In the snow, even in the red-tinged moonlight, a dark green longcoat and a bright blue hood ought to show up very visibly.
Even if they're being worn by a scrawny barely-adolescent, crouched down as small as she can get in the shelter of a snowbank, eyeing the gun turrets with wary calculation.
Enzo is making a sweep of the outside, to see if anything else has changed beyond the rather abrupt snow and the treefort's plague of vermin. The cold, at least, benefits him. The effects aren't as extreme as on, say, a Discworld troll, but he's very sharp and alert right now.
(He also has no scannable body heat.)
He spots the new landscape feature from the air, and swings past at a cautious distance. Might be more bad weirdness, might just be Milliways.
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After that, he can go to work on figuring out how to solve this mess.
It turns out that when he's really motivated, Nathan Stark could set a track record or two.
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But the guns are now trained on the door to the main building.
The best defense is a good offense.
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Even if they're being worn by a scrawny barely-adolescent, crouched down as small as she can get in the shelter of a snowbank, eyeing the gun turrets with wary calculation.
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The gun turrets readjust towards the newest threat.
...Smaller than Doctor Stark. Who is this?
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Nepeta eyes the yellow squares of light in the distance that mean the bar, and gnaws her lower lip thoughtfully.
Something that might be a projectile arcs high from concealment.
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target
...vaporize.
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(He also has no scannable body heat.)
He spots the new landscape feature from the air, and swings past at a cautious distance. Might be more bad weirdness, might just be Milliways.
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