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[right][b]Interactions:[/b] Vin & Loni [@Fernstone] Marco [@NoriWasHere] Destiny & Latoya [@Evil Ghost Note]
[code]Thursday November 24th, The Hollow Tap[/code][/right][hr]

Planning a murder was a difficult task. It was made even more difficult for Paloma when every attempt to harden her heart so that she was ready for the dirty work was undone by Destiny melting it. She didn’t want to be the shitty adult that ended up confirming the kid’s suspicions that the world was unkind, uncaring, and a much worse place than it should’ve been. A little bit of sweetness did wonders to cover up the bitter taste of reality, even if it wasn’t always good for–oh thank God, Latoya moved in to comfort the kid. 

Back to murder. Paloma’s eyes locked in on the janitor’s closet. Certainly, it was brimming with the materials needed to do some wetwork. Years of scrubbing floors and huffing in fumes had taught her the “do nots” of mixing chemicals; invert that knowledge and she had enough little recipes that she could add a chapter into [i]The Anarchist Cookbook[/i]. How fast could chlorine gas neutralize this, [i]this, [b]this Jezebel!?[/b][/i] And, ideally, how could it be delivered without annihilating the rest of the Thanksgiving feasters? 

[color=51684c]”Oh, she looks at everyone like that. Right nosy ass she is,”[/color] said Vin.

[color=springgreen]“Huh?”[/color] Fuck, the orphan. Paloma fixed Vin with a chastising look and was almost able to suppress the snicker as she hissed, [color=springgreen]“Vin! [i]Language.[/i]”[/color]

Paloma hunched back down so that she was eye level with Destiny. 

[color=springgreen]“Sweetie, I know we just only met, but there isn’t one single thing about you that needs fixing. Well, except for one heaping plate of hot food!”[/color]

Or a living parent.

If only they had a necromancer. If only she and Vin hadn’t–Paloma pushed the thought from her head. Thought? Fever dream. That’s what it was. A hunger induced waking fever dream. She was certain that was a real thing as her eyes flicked over towards Marco and the obscured villain. The river wasn’t too far from here. Paloma blinked away the intrusions and clapped her hands together.

[color=springgreen]“C’mon, girlfriend. Let’s jump in line before someone steals all the marshmallows from the sweet potato casserole or…”[/color] Paloma trailed off as her minion summoned a minion of their own to get the girls some food. [color=springgreen]“Oh, thanks Vin! That’s so thoughtful.”[/color] Her eyes narrowed with a teasing suspicion as she turned up her nose. [color=springgreen]“Hmm[sup]mmm[sup]mm…"[/sup][/sup][/color]

Paloma didn’t end up having the chance to hit Vin with the devastating(ly true?) accusation that they were simply trying to keep her close. As the hmm hit a pitch that only dogs could hear, a heatseeking cruise missile of adorableness exploded away from her bad, awful, no good mother and streaked past the cookie workshop. The uncannily cute little one splashed into Vin’s arms, mistaking them for her uncle the same way she’d confused Marco with being her daddy. Paloma’s smile, which couldn’t help but to beam at the sight of such a cutie, cracked as her jaw dropped in a gasp. 

No. Nuh-uh. Absolutely not. She knew what was going on. She wasn’t stupid. That was it. That fucking did it. That bitch could steal her man, but Paloma would die before letting some hussy take her minion. 

Her face blanking, Paloma signaled to Destiny and Latoya with a finger that she would be right back as she began to march towards Marco. Her advance halted as abruptly as it had begun, Paloma freezing with the same fear of a soldier who’d just heard the click of a landmine from beneath their feet. Only her eyes could move. They glanced at the woman who’d finally come into view from behind Marco’s beefy biceps back towards her minion. She saw the distraction wiggling in their arms, reaching out to confound its next target with its impossible cuteness. 

Then she saw the bloodthirsty look in Vin’s eyes. Of course they were already aware. The fear fled from Paloma’s chest as a smug little smirk pulled at the corners of her mouth. She leapt at a sudden impulse instead of waiting for sensibility’s arrival. The Samaritan’s aura that had spread throughout the bar like a funky smell before fading into the background wafted back up to the forefront. Those with an Emotional Field would feel just a slight shift from an almost untraceable source, although they would all be quite aware that some powerful magic had just taken place as the Bystander Effect hit the rest of the Hollow Tap.

In an instance, the loud uproar of a crowded room scraping forks and knives against plates became a few slight murmurs accompanied by a clatter or two as all of the Blind went into a stasis. There was a gross plopping noise as a pile of mashed potatoes fell from a poorly balanced plate and splattered on the ground. A torn off bit of roll that had been tossed in the air bumped impossibly off of the open mouth of a leaned back man. A cookie hurled across the workshop table smacked one kid square in the nose and crumbled in two. The unharmed kid didn’t even blink as the icing slid off of his nose and down his shirt without leaving a trace of evidence on him. 

And in that same moment as the crowd, minus a Paranormal few, froze, a snap could be heard as Paloma furrowed her brow, threw out her arm, and leveled a fully automatic finger gun with the banana clip. It looked as if she was pointing at Marco, but she was truly aiming at someone, or rather, some[i]thing[/i] else. It wasn’t a person after all. It was one of those doppelgangers. And it wore Vin’s face. Her voice carried louder than intended as she barked out an order like a vicious chihuahua who had just heard someone at the door. 

[color=springgreen]“[b][i]Sic ‘em, Tiger![/i][/b]”[/color]