(no subject)
"Whoah!" is the cry, as a young woman in a super-suit goes tumbling through the door, knocking over several chairs as she skids along the ground before eventually being stopped by the bar.
"...I've really gotta work on not doing that," grumbles the tangle of limbs and hair, before a twenty-three-year-old version of one Miss Molly Hayes gets easily to her feet, apparently unhurt, and pats Bar apologetically. It's a few moments before she notices her suit change from a black jumpsuit with a pink Y across the chest into a belted, old-fashioned kind of flight suit with a high collar. It's still black, but edged with pink, and the bulky fingerless gloves and clompy military boots are also pink. Her pink visor becomes black-and-pink flying goggles, and her hair is pulled back into some kind of more ornate updo -- but her pink bangs still frame her face.
Arsenal of Y Generation looks down at herself and grins.
"Man, I've missed this place."
"...I've really gotta work on not doing that," grumbles the tangle of limbs and hair, before a twenty-three-year-old version of one Miss Molly Hayes gets easily to her feet, apparently unhurt, and pats Bar apologetically. It's a few moments before she notices her suit change from a black jumpsuit with a pink Y across the chest into a belted, old-fashioned kind of flight suit with a high collar. It's still black, but edged with pink, and the bulky fingerless gloves and clompy military boots are also pink. Her pink visor becomes black-and-pink flying goggles, and her hair is pulled back into some kind of more ornate updo -- but her pink bangs still frame her face.
Arsenal of Y Generation looks down at herself and grins.
"Man, I've missed this place."