Bob shrugged at Manny's comment about using the stairs. "You should try going up and down stairs with any kind of grace with these boots. I can bounce and tumble through allies and roof tops, but I'll friggin pinball my way up a set of stairs if I don't concentrate the whole way." He'd take his seat on the windowsill again, being more comfortable being perched on the rather than lounging on furniture. He'd take the Shield generator when it was given, taking a moment to look over himself for a good place to put it, settling on a nice pocked opposite his one portable radio that was jacked into his helmet. Not bad. Even doubled as a counter balance to his player. Normally he would have to put a roll of quarters or something in his other pocket when he did shows so that his jacket flared out the same way on both sides. He stopped a moment, and smirked, as the dancer came in, not that anyone could see the smirk. Where was She going to put such a device. He quickly started thinking over ideas to make a rig on her. Bob wasn't good with technical stuff, but he was good with ideas. Maybe a special shoe that could be activated with the right kind of tap of the heal or something. Eh Whatever.

He looked back in time to see the Finger looking at him, showing the same kind of eagerness he felt, before he started his "moves". He had to admit he was a little scared, but not for himself. Bob had long before lost his fear of death. Hard to have such compulsions when you backflip across 50 story apartment buildings. He was scared for his new companions. They seemed like pretty cool guys, and didn't want a repeat of losing his friends so long ago. He took a long slow breath. This was not then. They were not a bunch of punk kids thinking they couldn't be hurt. They were superheros going Knowingly into danger. They would be okay.