That's The Way To Do It


abby2_icon.gif f_doyle_icon.gif magnes_icon.gif

Scene Title That's The Way To Do It
Synopsis Doyles putting on a puppet show in central park that Magnes and Abigail stumble upon. One parents isn't very happy with "Company: The musical" and gives Doyle a piece of his mind. It ends in one man nearly dying, Doyle walking away unstopped and Magnes telling the people witnessing Abigail saving the man that she's Mary Jane Watson from Queens. Right.
Date April 22, 2009

Central Park

Central Park has been, and remains, a key attraction in New York City, both for tourists and local residents. Though slightly smaller, approximately 100 acres at its southern end scarred by and still recovering from the explosion, the vast northern regions of the park remain intact.

An array of paths and tracks wind their way through stands of trees and swathes of grass, frequented by joggers, bikers, dog-walkers, and horsemen alike. Flowerbeds, tended gardens, and sheltered conservatories provide a wide array of colorful plants; the sheer size of the park, along with a designated wildlife sanctuary add a wide variety of fauna to the park's visitor list. Several ponds and lakes, as well as the massive Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Reservoir, break up the expanses of green and growing things. There are roads, for those who prefer to drive through; numerous playgrounds for children dot the landscape.

Many are the people who come to the Park - painters, birdwatchers, musicians, and rock climbers. Others come for the shows; the New York Shakespeare Festival at the Delacorte Theater, the annual outdoor concert of the New York Philharmonic on the Great Lawn, the summer performances of the Metropolitan Opera, and many other smaller performing groups besides. They come to ice-skate on the rink, to ride on the Central Park Carousel, to view the many, many statues scattered about the park.

Some of the southern end of the park remains buried beneath rubble. Some of it still looks worn and torn, struggling to come back from the edge of destruction despite everything the crews of landscapers can do. The Wollman Rink has not been rebuilt; the Central Park Wildlife Center remains very much a work in progress, but is not wholly a loss. Someday, this portion of Central Park just might be restored fully to its prior state.

The sun shines brightly down upon Central Park this brisk spring afternoon, upon joggers running, painters working in the greens, acrobats and mimes seeking a cheap dollar or three. During the day, the park's never empty or boring, a contrast to the shadowy danger of nightfall - especially to the south end, where the damage from the 'Bomb' still lingers.

One of the makeshift, jury-rigged attractions set up this day is a roughly-constructed and garishly painted stall whose window can be shadowed by a curtain. That curtain's pulled back for the moment, and a number of children (and parents watching carefully) are gathered about to watch a show. The unseen conductor of the show guides puppets on sticks and strings through the backdrops of painted city-ways and balconies, one of them a portly figure in gleaming (aluminum-foil) mail and knightly helm and the other in a suit, horn-rimmed spectacles of fine wire upon his face as he pursues the first figure. The puppets themselves are surprisingly well constructed and painted, with intricate care.

It's a nice day, a day for doing something other than read comics, the bible, or anything else that might have you stuck in the house. Magnes is slowly rolling along on his skates, happily keeping pace with Abby as they make mostly smalltalk, the occasional bible question or random comic book story. He goes from attraction to attraction with her, until finally finding the puppets, rushing over to it and waving for her to follow. "Awesome, I've never seen a real puppet stand!" he exclaims excitedly, since he doesn't come to Central Park often.

Killing time between her appointment and class, Abigail with her red hair follows Magnes towards the puppet show going on. "You haven't? I think they put one on near the castle a couple times, or you get people who just put them on randomly like whomever is doing this one" She's perky, seemingly back to her natural self. Shading her eyes from the sun with her hand above her eyes so she can look at the puppets. "The Knight has glasses" That's an odd thing, but hey, maybe it's going to be a story about how even the weakest person can rise and save the princess ect ect. She settles in easily beside Magnes, Jeans, layers of shirts and a hoody. She's channeling the vibe of Teo today.

And the first comes up is old Punch hisself:

'Ladies and gents,' he says, 'here's your good health!'

He carries his big stick wherever he goes -

It's thick and strong and as long as his nose!

'That's the way to do it,' says Punchinella …

Big stick and long nose, symbolic old fella!

The show must go on. And the show does! Although they seem to be just at the end of an act. "Come back here," cries the glasses-wearing puppet in a flat voice, "Your fight is over! To the dungeon with you!"

"Never," cries the knight, leaping up a wall and scrambling up to a balcony, leaning over to shout, "The world is full of wonder and magic! I will not let you destroy it!" As he peers, watching for his foe, the suited puppet sneaks up upon him and strikes him down with a metal fork to the head, pushing him from a balcony to fall, fall, fall in a crash to the ground. And the curtain's drawn, a sign reading 'Intermission' dropping down over it as things are shuffled backstage in an audible rasp of wood and fabrics.

"That was awesome!" Magnes exclaims, looking over at Abby before standing to start approaching the box. "I'm gonna go give him a tip." he says before knocking gently on the little box. "Excuse me, Mister or Miss, I have a tip for you. And your puppets are really awesome." He's very impressed because, of course, he's never seen a real puppet show.

"Go ahead" Abigail's just going to hang back and wait. She'll indulge Magnes and his generosity because frankly, it's a nice day and the puppets are pretty well made and interesting. Her hands in her pockets, red hair loose, she leans back on her heels, watching her friend
Long distance to Elisabeth: Abby nods

Next up comes Judy, Punch's old lady,

Saying,' I'm off out now, Punch, so mind the baby!'

'Oh no I won't,' says Punch: 'Yes you will,' says Judy,

'Cop hold o' your kid, my lad, none o' your old moody!'

'That's the way to do it,' says Punchinella ..

Cock-sure but hen-pecked, pathetic old fella!

The children laugh and clap, while the adults watch on tolerantly, seeming fairly uninterested with the show itself. As there's a knock upon the stall, there's a pause in the rattling and moving, and then the curtains rustle open, revealing the rounded face and bald pate of the older man — eyes wide as eggs, staring up at the man there, "Yes, yes, what is it?" Apparently he didn't hear the rest of Magnes's words.

Magnes is mentally startled, evident by a slightly nervous smile, but he's learned from years of pizza delivery to never show it on his face when scary people answer the door. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a five, holding it out to the man. "This is my first real puppet show, and it's really nice and interesting, so I thought I'd tip you. My name's Magnes J. Varlane, by the way."

Hot dog… guy? Abby squints, as if that might help bring the guys face a little out of focus. Hot dog guy. She has a thing for faces and after picturing the glasses on his face, yep. Abigail offers a weak smile to him from her spot, keeping an eye on Magnes, much how the parents keep an eye on their children. Don't approach the chubby bald man children, even if he doe shave puppets or might offer candy. Stranger danger don't you know!

Kid keeps howling - old Punch, he thumps it -

It bawls - he belts it, into bed he dumps it …

It cries - he calms it down - it bites his finger …

Punch ups and bungs it through the blooming winder!

//'That's the way to do it,' says Punchinella .. //

'That'll learn the bleeding brat to yell and beller!'

"Oh! Oh, well, thank you, I— " Then Doyle pauses, cocking his head, leaning forward a little with a furrowed brow, "— wait, wait, did you just say Magnes Varlane?"

Magnes tilts his head with puppy-like confusion, then just smiles and nods; a more genuine smile this time. "Yes, Magnes J. Varlane. Have you heard of me or something?" He of course doesn't offer any particular reasons why the man may have heard of him, being more cautious with information these days.

Maybe he's delivered a lot of pizza to the guy? ABby slinks closer to Magnes, reaching out to tug at his arm.

Here's Mrs Judy now come back again,

Not knowing Punch has done the nipper in -

'Where's baby, Punch?' she says, 'Gone, gone to sleep!' says he -

'Don't you know where your own son is? You make me weep,' says she..

'That's the way to do it,' says Punchinella ..

'I threw it out the winder,' he has to tell her!

At the question, Doyle hesitates for a long few heartbeats, considering the young man during them, taking in his smile and puppy-like demeanor, his comic-geek shirt. No, no, this clearly must be some other Magnes J. Varlane, because it certainly can't be the one that he's heard of. His lips purse together as if considering something, and then part into a broad smile. "Nope," he replies, ducking back behind the curtain with a rustling of its fabric over his bald scalp.

Magnes smiles at the tug, Abby contact, but he gives her an 'It's alright' nod, and hands the man the five dollar tip. "This is my friend Abby, I think she's enjoying the show too, right Abby?" he asks, mostly being polite for the man; the modest, not-dangerous-at-all puppeteer.

"Magnes. I think he's getting ready for the second half of the performance okay? Why don't we hang back and let him get on with it and we can stick around and watch and if you want to talk more, then you can do it after?" A cool drink of southern water, that's Abigail, tugging on Magnes's sleeves to get him to hang back.

She cries her heart out: 'Where's my lil son gone?'

Says Punch, 'There's plenty more where that one come from!'

With a stick she bangs and beats him something lovely -

He gets it, clubs her, kills her, kicks her ugly ..

'That's the way to do it,' says Punchinella ..

'Why keep a wife you hate if you can kill her?'

"Thank you, and a pleasure to meet you, please, I need to continue? Hm? Lovely woman - very bright - there we go!" Doyle replies, one hand popping back up through the curtain to snatch away the bill presented, drawing it beneath the mysterious surface of the curtain as he vanishes. Then the 'intermission' sign begins to unsteadily rise upwards, and after a barely-audible click some ominous organ music emerges from behind the stall, probably from some sort of music player. The curtain sweeps open with a squeak of small wheels, revealing a set painted as a dark cell, with the knight huddled unhappily into one corner. The number 5 is painted upon the wall.

Magnes nods in agreement with Abby, smiling at the curtain, then walking to sit at a modest distance where they can view the show. "He's a nice guy, and doing puppets seems kinda hard. Closest thing I ever came to having a puppet were the eye and arms on my Dalek costume."

"Dalek Costume?" Abigail shuffles back to where they were, sinking down to sit on the grass like the other children and their parents. There's an idle wish that if she'd known they would be sitting she would have brought a blanket to sit on, but when he wooshes back the curtain and the room, with the number on it… well. That gains Abigails attention.

Up jumps a copper, all dressed in blue,

Saying , 'Mr Punch, I am arresting you,

I've got a warrant to take you up for what you done -'

'And I've got a warrant,' says Punch, 'to knock you down!'

'That's the way to do it,' says Punchinella ..

Kicking him arse over head straight down the cellar.

The knight is tormented in the cell - by a blonde-haired puppet who struck him with bright flashes from flash-paper set off, giggling like a schoolgirl before running away, watched by the puppet in glasses, and hounded by a puppet with a great syringe in her hand. The show's taken on a rather darksome tone, dark comedy though still comedy, some of the kids looking a little upset by it - one of the adults taking their daughter away. Ah, but then, there's a great clamour from off-stage (or at least a recorded clamour) and the knight breaks free, scuttling off the stage and out of view!

"I'll show you Doctor Who the next time I come to your place, then you'll see Daleks." Magnes raises an eyebrow at the tone change, looking over at Abby, then back at the stage. "Something seem not-quite-right about this to you?" he asks with a bit of concern, since this may be a tad much for children.
'Really Magnes, who doesn't enjoying watching a puppet show about a knight errant begin chased around by an … " Abby blinks. 'Evolved needle bearing blonde…." Abigail shifts uncomfortable, glancing at the set. No.. couldn't be.

The law soon catches him again and in a while

Before Judge Black-Cap he's standing trial:

'Killed wife and child?' he says, 'you guilty wretch!

Take Punch away and hang him, Mr Ketch!'

'That's the way to do it,' says Punchinella …

'Hang 'em all, but don't hang me!' he cries in terror.

The three other puppets - glasses, blonde, and needle - mill about a bit on the stage, confused. "Where is he?" "Where did he go?"

Ah, but there he is, the knight suddenly appearing above the top of the stall, looking about in triumph. "Free! Free… wait, what's this? Oh ho! Now who holds the strings!" He delves down, and suddenly the three puppets on the stage stiffen, and begin to dance around. They dance, and prance, and then the knight's puppet-hand appears over the stall once more, a gleaming sword in hand. Down it goes—and the puppets suddenly all collapse to the stage, their lines cut. The music cuts out. And the curtain is drawn, abruptly.

"Want me to go talk to him or something?" Magnes asks, sounding a bit, well, not happy about that kind of thing in front of children. "You can come if you want, you're good at getting through to people." he offers as he stands, then holds his hand down for her, if she wants it.

Right. Talk to the guy who in the middle of central park just put on a play about the super secret agency that pilfers evolveds and locks them away in places not unlike MOAB. "You go ahead"

'See this-here noose'' says Jack, 'Poke your head through.'

Old Punch lets on he dunno what to do ?

'In here, Mr Ketch?' he says, 'Or p'raps in there?'

'Hang about,' the hangman says, 'I'll show you where..'

'That's the way to do it,' says Punchinella …

Stringing up the hangman, he's a swinging old fella!

As most of the audience wanders off, Eric Doyle emerges from the stall's side— but Magnes is beaten to the punch, as a tall, imposing man with a crew-cut and a green sweater stomps up to him, glaring down at the shorter man and snarling out, "What the hell kind of a show was that, buddy? Huh? I've got half a mind to kick your ass…"

The puppeteer just looks at him with a half-bored, half-exasperated expression through heavy-lidded eyes, head cocking a bit to one side, thumbs curling into his suspenders. A few heartbeats pass before he asks dryly, "You done? Finished? Quite? I don't recall tying anyone down and forcing them to watch, sir."

Magnes clears his throat, a much less imposing than the other man, he holds a finger up and speaks timidly. "A-um, Mister, it's not really good to scare children. You do puppetry nicely, but it was a bit inappropriate…" He gets more nervous as his words go on, barely making eye contact as he stands a few feet away from the other unsatisfied viewer.

'Jack Ketch is dead,' he cries, 'hoorah, hooray, I'm free -

Don't care if the Devil hisself should come and call on me!

Jack Ketch is dead,' he says, 'Old Punch'll do them all!' -

Up pops Old Nick hisself - tail, horns and hooves and all!

'That's the way to do it,' says Punchinella ..

'Hang about, I'm your best friend, we're birds of a feather!'

"Yeah… yeah! What the kid said," the angry parent replies, reaching out to poke the puppeteer hard in the shoulder with his hand, scowling, "You should just get this bull-shit and get lost, buddy."

Doyle regards the man, then glances towards Magnes, then back once more, rocking a bit from heel to toe and breathing through his nose as he puffs himself up just a bit, relaxes, repeats it. Then he smiles, a wan expression that goes nowhere near the utter black hatred in his eyes, "Of course. I'll just pack up my things, then, if you'll kindly get the fuck out of my way." He turns with obvious effort, stepping over to start slamming the doors and cabinets shut on the stall-cart, refusing to look back at the pair.

"I didn't mean to be offensive or anything!" Magnes adds, not wanting the man to be offended, but… think of the children! He continues to stand there, watching the stall and waiting to see what happens. If there's a scene, well, he can possibly do something…

The Devil darts at Punch but he ain't having it -

Nick gets hisself a stick but Punch keeps grabbing it -

He aims a mighty swipe at Satan's nut an' -

The Devil's out for the count, as dead as mutton..

'That's the way to do it,' says Punchinella ..

He's beat the Devil hisself, heroic old fella!

"Yeah, you just do that, you old pervert," the man barks after the puppeteer, turning to grab his son's hand and heading with him towards the park's edge and the parking lot visible from here, muttering, "Bet he's just trying to grab some kids. Half a mind to call the cops on him…" "I thought the puppets were funny, daddy!" "Shut up, you don't know anything."

The bald head of Eric Doyle shakes slowly from side to side, and there's a hint of anger visible in the tremor of his hands as he closes up shop. "Have you ever seen a Punch and Judy show, kid? Used to be the biggest entertainment some kids got, back before the idiot-box," he tells Magnes, heatedly as he works, "Punch, the big hero? Killed his baby, his wife, the sheriff, in some shows. Beat up everyone for laughs. That any worse? Grimm's Fairy Tales were pretty damn grim before the censors got to them. Kids can take more than you think."

Magnes crosses his arms and considers this, looking back at Abby, keeping his voice low in case he unknowingly says something stupid. "Well, I guess so, I mean, I grew up with worse. Ren & Stimpy, Are You Afraid of the Dark, the Goosebumps books. I guess when you get older, you kind of lose touch with what kids can handle…" he agrees, almost completely seeing Doyle's point as he nervously rubs the back of his neck. "I was just afraid it might scare the kids."

The show is over now, me dolls need mending,

But Punch and Punch's play are never-ending -

In every soul alive there's a Punch and a Judy,

In you and you, sir, you, ma'am, too, and me, yours truly!

"They should be scared," Eric replies fiercely, "The world's full of horrible things. Not an ounce of happiness allowed. Nobody will ever leave them alone until they conform and until they obey. Something bad could happen at any moment…" The last window's closed, the cart-stall's arms folded out, and as he speaks he's gesturing for emphasis — one hand jerking to the side in a sudden, sharp motion with the last words.

A screech of brakes, from the parking lot, and then a scream. "DADDY!" Red staining the pavement where a man in a green sweater's just hurled himself under the wheels of a car backing out. He must have tripped. The driver stumbles out, and shrieks, both hands coming to her mouth, "Somebody call — oh god — someone call 911!"

'That's the way to do it,' says Punchinella ..

The Punch and Judy game goes on forever!

"What the hell?" Magnes exclaims, looking in the direction of the accident, then to Doyle, then to the accident again. "Don't you care?" he asks, looking the man in the eyes now, with a bit of outrage. His right hand twitches for a moment, it doesn't do anything else, but it twitches.

In the future, in prisons with the people he's locked up, or with the criminals who have encountered him in general, they know, a hand twitch is when he wants to throw you into the sky.

But this Magnes has restraint, and he doesn't quite know how to throw someone into the sky yet.

"Oh, look at that. Timing." Doyle's hand raises to rub against his chin and jaw, rubbing there as he looks at the commotion over at the parking lot… and then he lifts a brow at Magnes, noting mildly, "You're the one who's worried about the children. Don't you have a phone, Mister Varlane?"

"The police lines are likely already being flooded, if I call it'll only hold them up more." Magnes explains; he learned that in a Robin issue. But he still frowns, Doyle's attitude just seems to bug him. "How can you be so callus? A man just got hurt, his child just saw it, aren't you sad?"

"Oh, you're right," Doyle's eyes widen in faux-shock, "That's so terrible. I'm certain that if I'd gotten hurt, he'd have leapt to my aid and been quite worried…" They hood once more, lips curling in a sneer as he turns to start pushing the cart along off the grass and onto the paved path, "…please. As if you're one to talk? You care more about how I'm acting than about that."

"There's nothing I can do, Abby will help him." Magnes is sure of that, he doesn't even look back to see if she is, he just watches Doyle walk away. He frowns again, though this time at himself. Has he really experienced so much already that he's not terribly shocked by a bloody mess? "It's still wrong…" is his last defense, finally turning around to start walking over to the accident, knowing there's nothing he can do.

Abigail saw the Accident, a gasp coming from the redhead who had stayed riveted, watching the exchange between the two men. But it was the accident that spurs the young woman into motion. "Magnes!" Not admonishment, just letting him know where she was going. "I'm going to go see what I can… do.." Lets not yell HEAL HIM in the middle of the park, but she's already dragging her wallet out and slipping out the registration card as she makes to pass the two.

As the puppeteer departs, the healer arrives on the scene at the parking lot - leaving Magnes in the middle, drifting towards the latter. It's bad. The man's lower body is a mass of red tracked back a half-foot where the driver quickly reversed off of him, his pelvis shattered and abdomen ruptured, certainly. Mercifully, the other tire missed his head by a matter of inches. Still, it's obvious that the ambulance isn't going to get there in time, the man passed out from blood loss and the surrounding gawkers merely staring on in horror, one woman clutching the weeping little boy to her breast and making sure he can't see.

Magnes stares at Doyle for a moment, then yells back, "If you were nicer, you'd have friends, and you wouldn't be bitter!" Not usually one to be mean, it would appear that the delivery boy simply does not like someone for once, making his way over to help with the accident.

Either way, not good news when Abigail manages to squeeze her way through the group, Magnes hot on her heels. The redhead ignores the "don't touch him" the comes from someone, her registration tucked into her sweater pocket before she places her hands on the mangled lower body of the man, Head bowed, little gold cross dangling and a prayer already off her lips when she touched him, it's instantaneous the transfer from her to him. She was opening herself up to being seen and exposed, but, it was that or let the man die. Little by little where blood vessels were ripped open, they start to zip shut. Time to see just how well Sonny's new diet regimen really does work.

"H-hey, hey! Don't touch him!" One of the onlookers takes a step forward as if to pull the girl back, but when she touches the body he pulls back with a grimace, saying more sympathetically, "Look, I… think he's beyond prayer now, miss. I'm sure he'd—he'd appreciate it, but…" Of course, it won't be long before what she's doing becomes -entirely- obvious…

Magnes takes his Robin shirt off and stands where the main healing is happening, since people are starting to take cell phone pictures. He hates being topless, but he's trying to protect her from these pesky pictures, sometimes going so far as to jump in front of a flash. "There's nothing to see here, we're professionals, if you take pictures it's a federal offense!" he warns in an 'official' tone.

"Magnes! Stop. Let them. You can't stop them" The prayer ended, but the healing doesn't. She's ramped it up, in the hopes of getting the man through the worst of it. "Just keep them from touching me, or touching him" She had enough of a quiet life, it was only a matter of time. You can't expect the hospital to be able to keep quiet what she does for them forever. "Grab my card, hand it to the paramedics when they come or the cops" Focus Abigail. Her hands splayed across the mans hips, finger sunder a shredded portion of his waistband. She can't let him die, couldn't let him die. Not without trying.

She can feel his blood pumping weakly in his veins, the supply of it low, too low; feel his heart weakening, his organs failing or simply rupture apart, tattered webbing of flesh where once vital parts of him belonged, shattered bone sundered through muscle. The healer's power is great enough to stave off that impending death, however, her power flowing into him and reweaving torn tissues, regrowing connections and gathering splintered bone into whole.

Meanwhile, the half-naked shouting only gets /more/ pictures flashing, and as the dying man's body begins to visibly heal there's a few shocked gasps and whispers from the crowd — murmurings between 'miracle' and 'evolved'.

Magnes slides his shirt back on and quickly reaches for the registration card, sliding it into his pocket. He starts to circle the two, keeping everyone from getting two close. "Stay back so she can do her job. Remember, her name is Mary-Jane Watson, master healer." Sure, he's not stopping them from taking pictures, but a little misinformation won't hurt.

Mary Jane Watson. Cute Magnes. That won't stop people, she's sure. But for the most part she's ignoring Magnes now. It can't kill her to do what she does in one go. That's always been a great comfort. She can give every last drop until she's unconscious and she knows that her body and to some degree god, will keep her from killing herself. Sort of a built in safety mechanism. Just enough blood to keep him alive. That's all she needs. Stave off brain damage and keep his heart pumping the essential fluid to where he needs it. Really that all he'll need. "Tell the paramedics he's low on blood Magnes, too low. They'll need to give him…" What had they given the president elect. "They'll need to get saline running, I don't think I'm gonna be awake" As fast as she can give it his body is sucking it up as more and more of him's made whole before the eyes of those watching.

The sirens are audible, now, the distant flash of red and blue lights in the dusk. The ambulances are almost there.

The crowd has all backed away, now, staring in awe and amazement - and perhaps horror, on a few faces, though it could be the light - as the man is restored, miraculously, inch by inch beneath Abigail's hands.

Magnes just keeps circling, nodding to indicate that he's still listening. "I'll tell 'em, then I'll take you back to your place. That alright?" he asks, wanting to be sure, and a part of him doesn't just want to leave her out here anyway. "Mary-Jane Watson comes from Queens, and every use of her power puts an inch of her soul into heaven. One day she'll have used up all of her God-given power, and return to the man who sent her here. This is her origin story, please write this down."

Good thing the ambulances are almost there because Abigail's listing, to the side, and while the man is maybe 3/4's of the way done, most of the major injuries done, she's starting to be low on her own personal "gas" tank. "Just.. let them take me to the hospital Magnes. Better that way. They know me there" Voice sinking lower and lower as she goes, ignoring the horror or fear, even the good looks. She's not there for them, she's on her knees and touching the man because there's a child there who's nearly lost and could still loose her father. Eventually, the redhead just opts to lay down, both hands still anchored, but at least this way,s he won't end up whit a bump on her head and she can still work till she's out, which she can feel creeping up.

Somebody actually writes it down, surprisingly.

The flashing lights soon take over the parking lot, the crowd backing away but not fully dispersing, and there's shouts for people to move off and back away from the injured man, EMTs rushing into the area and another clattering a stretcher out of the back of the white vehicle as cop cars tear in behind it. Just before the redhead slumps over to lay on the ground, one of the technicians moves to kneel beside her, a hand reaching out to steady her even as he swears in startled awe, "Holy shit, I think she's just.. putting him back together…"

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