[h3]MgRonalds, District 7[/h3]
[@Crimmy][@GreenGoat]

For his part, the rough-and-tumble esper took the ensuing whirlwind of chaos essentially in stride, only raising a quizzical purple brow at his unexpected comrade's theatrics. He'd seen dabs with better form and context. Situational context and context within a routine both, in fact. However with all that said, she'd succeeded in taking the bazooka off of the thug's hands.

[color=a187be]"Nice goin', Helicopter."[/color] he growled in approval, offering the strange young woman a thumbs-up without taking his eyes off of 'Chief'. His jaw tightened in malcontent. Sure, with the sirens approaching fast, he and Helicopter could stall these wackos out for probably another 30 seconds before things were a done deal...

"We just be havin' lunch, ya see?"

But he [i]really[/i] wanted to knock 'em a few blocks uptown if they kept acting like they could con their way out of this right to his face.

[color=a187be]"Yeah, [i]havin' lunch[/i]. No funny business whatsoever. Which is why you've got the rest of the damn store quivering behind your groupie. Ha! Y'know what?"[/color]

There was no humor in that laugh.

[color=a187be]"Think I'll have lunch too. Obviously you ain't in any rush, but I've been waitin' on line for ages now. Hat-chan!"[/color] he called out to the blonde behind the counter. [color=a187be]"Ring me up a Big Mig in the meantime once you kill the AC, would ya?"[/color]

He had come here for a good old-fashioned cheeseburger, after all. It'd be a shame if he went hungry after getting himself into something like this. A damn, damn shame— the fuzz'd probably have the place on lockdown once they got here, too. May as well get some servicable food out of calling the bluff.

God forbid he resort to this street's bodegas. All awful.

[color=a187be]"Looks like we're all tied up for the minute— I don't suggest you go eatin' [i]that[/i] on the run, either."[/color] he indicated the bag of MgChickens. [color=a187be]"You ever seen [i]Supersize Me[/i]?"[/color]