| Jillian Holtzmann, who has the same reaction to being called 'Jillian' that some people have to peanuts – no, not allergic and potentially fatal, just mild disgust – is currently waiting for something that looks like a cherry bomb to explode in a small, enclosed space explicitly built for that kind of purpose. |
Looks to be another sixty seconds. Hold that for a second.
| She hands Mia something that looks dangerous on first glance, only to deeply disappoint as soon as one realises that it's just a stopwatch, albeit one with a few additional features, notable ones being labeled "Abby" and "T" one through five.
Holtz doesn't leave the lab, no worries about that, she only goes to pick up a handbag and rummages around for a wallet, which she slides into one of the pockets of her pants. |
I didn't think you'd be here so soon.
| Is that teasing amusement in her voice? Oh yes, yes it is. |
[ Stop looking so smug Holtzmann, Mia has many issues but she does try to not be a bad date once she has agreed to go on one. Just because she doesn't like making things messy by involving feelings in the whole thing it doesn't mean she's rude.
Well, sometimes she's that too but only if she thinks you've earned it. Holtzmann isn't there yet. ]
| Holtzmann is likely about to get there, because her allotted sixty seconds are not up when whatever she's doing in that glass container reacts strongly, explosively, and with a dull, untrustworthy-sounding thud.
It's a good thing the container is there, because it is now filled with enough thick, black smoke to almost certainly trigger a fire alarm upon release. Holtzmann whistles, but seems otherwise satisfied with the result. |
So much better than a magical ghost hotline.
| She reaches to take her stopwatch back, tipping a multitude of its buttons, before finally pressing one that reveals a USB port, which she uses to plug it into a waiting laptop. |
[ Mia very nearly drops the stop watch at the explosion, and she is glad that she opted for flats because while heels would have made her feel sexier, she might have broken an ankle out of sheer fright just then. ]
It's supposed to force visibility. Think a reverse smoke bomb for spectres. I had to add some colouring for the experiment, since we lack a ghost right now, which is why it's... looking like this.
| Well, it does plenty of the smoking part, alright. She gives Mia a look, and she's trying to keep herself from grinning, but that is obviously not a successful venture. |
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
texting because why nooooot
Can I buy you a drink to make up for it? ... Er, at a normal bar, not in a dive bar undercover. Promise.
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But not the time before, I'm a little short on money. I'll get there though.
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LET'S DO THIS
Looks to be another sixty seconds. Hold that for a second.
| She hands Mia something that looks dangerous on first glance, only to deeply disappoint as soon as one realises that it's just a stopwatch, albeit one with a few additional features, notable ones being labeled "Abby" and "T" one through five.
Holtz doesn't leave the lab, no worries about that, she only goes to pick up a handbag and rummages around for a wallet, which she slides into one of the pockets of her pants. |
I didn't think you'd be here so soon.
| Is that teasing amusement in her voice? Oh yes, yes it is. |
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[ Stop looking so smug Holtzmann, Mia has many issues but she does try to not be a bad date once she has agreed to go on one. Just because she doesn't like making things messy by involving feelings in the whole thing it doesn't mean she's rude.
Well, sometimes she's that too but only if she thinks you've earned it. Holtzmann isn't there yet. ]
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| Holtzmann is likely about to get there, because her allotted sixty seconds are not up when whatever she's doing in that glass container reacts strongly, explosively, and with a dull, untrustworthy-sounding thud.
It's a good thing the container is there, because it is now filled with enough thick, black smoke to almost certainly trigger a fire alarm upon release. Holtzmann whistles, but seems otherwise satisfied with the result. |
So much better than a magical ghost hotline.
| She reaches to take her stopwatch back, tipping a multitude of its buttons, before finally pressing one that reveals a USB port, which she uses to plug it into a waiting laptop. |
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Okay, what the fuck was that?
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| Well, it does plenty of the smoking part, alright. She gives Mia a look, and she's trying to keep herself from grinning, but that is obviously not a successful venture. |
Looks like tonight is on me. You alright?
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[ It brings her no small amount of joy to imagine how much of a pain the local witch covens must think these women are. ]
I'm fine.