Oh man. Oh God. Why? Why? WHY? had she thought she could impress someone who worked in MRC with her mutant powers? Why had she taken a vest she’d been loaned and tore it up? Quin mentally berated herself the whole time they were walking and the whole time Detective Drake was berating her. She deserved whatever she got, which was probably a quiet trip back to the precinct and an invitation not to let the MRC doors hit her in the ass on her way out. What was she going to do? No other departments would want her. She’d have to go back to Indiana. Surely the force there would take someone with two years of beat experience in New York…

They stopped, and Ashton started asking questions. Quin instantly shut off her mental nagging and paid attention, paid close attention to the details. The only thing she could do now was show Detective Drake that she actually could follow orders and do the right thing. It was her only hope. If he wanted to pretend that she wasn’t there, she’d do her best to blend in to the background and be invisible.

There were clones in the bank, they’d taken hostages. It was too bad she was blending in, because Quin had some ideas about how they could handle the situation. For now though, she said nothing, did nothing, and tried to look like she hadn’t just taken a step in the right direction to ruining her career.

"I'm going to need a vest," Ashton stated.

The mustachioed man eyed him. "Why?"

"Because I'm going in. So, I'll need one. Someone ruined mine."

The officer nodded slowly, then far more quickly called over another officer to get the detective a vest. Ashton slipped it on. It fit, barely. It was for someone of a far huskier build. But, it'd do.

"I'm going to need a visual."

Ashton turned to officer Archer, and gave her an assessing look. "How heavy are you?"

It was so hard to stand there and not say anything while Ashton asked for a vest, and ignored her, then sniped at the officer in charge, and ignored her. She wanted to point out that she could probably cover them both if they went in…as long as she took the rest of the vest they’d left in the car. She also wanted to point out that most guns were made at least partially of the materials she could manipulate.

Guns really didn’t scare Quin, as long as she could see them…

He was going in, and suddenly she was worried. She’d taken his vest…they were getting him one weren’t they?

Suddenly, she was being asked about her weight, and Quin was so shocked by the question she answered without thinking.

“Around one-forty the last time I checked.” Then she blushed, and glared. What was this guy playing at, trying to get her to embarrass herself in front of half the precinct?

Quin shut her eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Am I going in as well or am I waiting here? If I am, you can just have your vest back, and it'll fit better."

140? Damn. That was a headache waiting to happen. There was absolutely nothing wrong with her weight (or her blushing), but for his power, it was a bit much. Couldn't she have just been a size 0? This made things more difficult.

Another element to the problem. The blinds. Ashton turned to look at them, ignoring Quin's questions for a second. The blinds were drawn around the bank's windows, blocking the robbers from his view. This guy was good. He'd known enough to deter snipers.

The guy was also sloppy. If he'd been more stealthy and clever, the cops wouldn't have been brought in. No hostages would have been needed. This guy was an idiot, honestly. He'd given him too much credit for the blinds. In fact.

Ashton nearly slapped himself. It was damn simple. Damn stupid, but damn simple. It'd take a bit of finesse.

The detective marched on over to a nearby squad car and snagged a traffic cone from by its bumper. Then, he walked on over to officer Archer. "We don't show off," He looked her in the eye seriously. Then, he turned to lob the traffic cone as hard as he could at the bank's entrance, snapped back to Archer and grabbed her arm. His eyes locked on the blinds a short ways away, opposite the side he'd lobbed the cone. He focused. They vanished.

In the bank, all eyes were on the traffic cone that had just smashed ineffectually against the front doors.

"What the ****?" One of the clones swore.

Ashton appeared behind him. He grabbed the guy's pump shotgun from his distracted hands. Then, he hit him with it. The guy keeled over, to the left. Ashton leveled the shotgun at the next clone, as all eyes turned to him and Quin.

"Han shot first, right?" He muttered, aiming his words darkly at the redhead behind him.

Quin stood and got ignored some more, wondering just how long this punishment was going to go on. She’d said she would replace the vest, she’d said that she wouldn’t make the same mistake again. It was frustrating, and she knew she could help here, but she didn’t, she just stood with her mouth shut and watched.

Again, the point was reiterated. They did not show off in the MRC division, then Ashton grabbed a cone and threw it at the doors. Quin’s eyes widened, what the hell was he playing at with that? Before she could say anything though, he’d grabbed her arm and they’d…disappeared…and reappeared.

W. T. F.

They were in the bank. They were in the bank and there were people…and robbers…and why the hell did everything smell like cinnamon?

In what seemed like less than a single breath, Ashton had hit one of the bad guys in the face, taken his gun, and turned the proverbial tables a bit. He aimed a comment at Quin and it took the redhead a moment to figure out that he’d made another Star Wars comment.

Before she could even mutter ‘hypocrite’ in regards to showing, Quin failed to regain her footing and landed soundly on her rump. Once on the ground, however, her head stopped spinning a bit and she could look around.

Several clones were scattered about, but luckily they were all close enough that Officer Archer could feel exactly what she needed. A few moments later, triggers fell right off of guns, magazines fell free of their casings, and firing mechanisms melted to fill barrels. The only guns not affected was the one in Detective Drake’s hands, the one in his shoulder holster, and the one in Quin’s shoulder holster.

”And I don’t know who shot first…but I know who’ll shoot last here.” she said, drawing her own firearm and aiming at the nearest, now uselessly armed clone.

He'd asked Quin a question, and so, she fell.

Great! Just what he'd always wanted. Suddenly, Ashton had a headache. He blamed her. Sure, the headache had more to do with the using of his power, and how heavy she was, but... he still blamed her. And he would have continued to blame her, and he stood there with his head throbbing, and a shotgun in his hands, but... something happened to cause several tinkling sounds all around the room, and made Quin chime in with a chipper comment.

The triggers had fallen off the guns. One clone swore. Another clone swore. Ashton judged them. They obviously didn't have any vocabulary, whatsoever.

Ashton smiled dangerously. His headache had him exhausted. He'd let her pick up the slack. "I'd listen to her," Ashton said. Then, he lied. "I've seen her shooting range targets. Good shot, but... they look like Swiss cheese. You don't want to look like swiss cheese, do you? All holes?"

”Yeah.” she said, in response to Ashtons bluff about her shooting skills. ”I’ve got this problem with showing off.” she said, still staying where she was on the ground.

The clones swore some more, but they listened, then slowly they disappeared. All but one. Broken shot guns fell to the ground. The one that was left…who Quin supposed wasn’t actually a clone, then dropped his gun and put his hands behind his head with his fingers laced.

Ah, he knew what he was doing. Nice.

Only after the robber had gotten down on his knees, did Quin get up off the ground and move forward, reaching behind to grab her cuffs. Then it was time for the rules…completely by the book.

”You have the right to remain silent…” somewhere in the distance, backup was notified that the threat had been neutralized.

There's a drastic difference between using excessive force, and showing off.

The dangerous smirk stayed plastered to Ashton's face. He never lowered the shotgun, even though it suddenly felt like it weighed twelve hundred pounds.

"She does." He agreed. "Ripped my vest clean in two."

Would they believe that? Getting into a fire fight here was not something he wanted to do. He'd been stupid, carrying her with him. He should have left the rookie back there. ... She wasn't doing too badly, though, all things considered. They'd have to talk about that.

Scared swearing drifted to him, like music to his ears. Their numbers pared, until one was left. He didn't resist. Guy was actually smart. Still an idiot, though. Archer booked him, and Ashton was glad.

The rest of the police handled the dirty details, gathering evidence, taking statements, and handling witnesses with care. All that left for Ashton and Quin to do was go back to the station.

Ashton grimaced, approaching Quin. "Hey..." He said. "Good work. Now--." Unintentionally, he stumbled.

Well, that was something, at least. Quin couldn’t help but smile a little bit at how everything had gone down. Other than being incredibly frightened, the hostages were fine, and everyone was sent on their way as soon as questioning had been completed and vital information had been taken. It was time to go back to the station. Not too bad for a first day’s work, Quin decided, but erred on the side of caution in the face of her earlier debacle and waited to speak until spoken to.

Ashton…Detective Drake…approached, and Quin looked up as he spoke, then stumbled. Instinctively, Quin stepped forward, one hand on his chest and the other arm around his shoulders to make sure he stayed upright. Had he told her she’d done a good job? Secondary on her list of concerns.

”Are you alright?” she asked, not loud enough to draw attention in case it had been a simple stumble.

“Anything happen in there that I missed?”

She gave the comment a moment to sink in, then posed one more question.

“So that thing you did…that’s what you do?”

One thing he hated about his power was when it bit him in the ass. Falling was not cool. Headaches, not cool. And falling for women? Absolutely the worst. Ashton grimaced as Archer caught him.

Dumb questions. A lot of them. He didn't answer any, but the last.

"Yeah," he grunted. "Usually works better than that. No migraines."

Detective Drake only answered one of her questions, and Quin nodded her head, still holding on to her superior and staying close to make sure he would stay upright. Apparently his power normally worked better, not giving him migraines.

Quin frowned.

"What was the difference this time? Why the migraine?” Yeah, he’d said he had a migraine, and yeah Quin was still asking questions.

She couldn’t help herself.

What was different? Pft. Did she even have to ask?

"I don't usually take as much weight with me. I'm not used to teleporting with people." He sighed, bowing his head. It was still heavy. His whole body? Still heavy. But at least the being helped around was nice.

Apparently Detective Drake didn’t mind the help. Quin continued to help him as they stood there, and she waited for an answer to her question.

What had been different?

At first the statement made Quin want to dump Ashton on his face…but then she gave him a chance to finish and felt a little better about the whole situation. He didn’t normally teleport with people. He wasn’t calling her fat. That was good. ” Anything I can do to help? Or does it just go away with time?” she said kindly….then frowned a bit.

”You could have warned me, you know.” she said.

>>”You could have warned me, you know.”

Ashton brought his head up to look her dead in the eye. "Likewise," He stated seriously. Then, he smiled. "As for what you can do to help. Drive us back to the station, yeah? And then, maybe some coffee?"

"Or tea," He added, with only the slightest hint of a grimace. "The force takes all kinds."

Quin, at least, had the good grace to blush when Detective Drake pointed out that she could have warned him as well. He was probably talking about the vest, but Quin wasn’t going to push her luck and verbalize any thoughts.

Apparently what she could do to help is drive. Drive and then have coffe…or tea. Yeah. That was probably a good thing considering the one who’d driven here could barely stand on his own. Quin nodded her head, ”Just give me the keys. I know a couple of different ways back to the station from here.”

As to the coffee…or in her case, the tea.

”And yeah, I could go for some tea.”

The police really did take all types. Lucky for Quin. Really lucky.

They made it to the car.

”Keys?”