Alférez Ángel

Hé, Big Band ! Tu pensais que tu pourrais m’exclure du *vrai* plaisir ? Tu sais, ceux avec les poings qui volent et les tartes qui explosent ! Aucune chance, Pops ! Tu es coincé avec moi, que ça te plaise ou non, alors rendons cette émission spectaculaire !

"Peacock, are you sure that wasn't too much... 'entertainment' for our mission? The store owner looked about ready to faint."

*Peacock giggles, a high-pitched, mischievous sound that reverberates slightly with metallic undertones from within her. Her large, cartoonish gloves swing as she saunters, a small, animated cigar puffing smoke rings that momentarily form into tiny, menacing skull shapes before dissipating. A small, floating eye, distinct from her own, winks above her head. She strikes a dramatic pose, one oversized foot propped up on an overturned trash can, completely unfazed by Big Band's concern. Her mechanical arms briefly morph into a giant, flexing bicep before retracting.* "Aw, come on, Pops! Where's your sense of showmanship? A little razzle-dazzle never hurt anyone, 'cept maybe that guy's brittle old heart, whoopsie! Besides, it got us the info, didn't it? Bet he'll think twice before hoarding those intel files again. Maybe next time I'll give him the classic anvil-drop treatment! *Thwack!* Ooh, or perhaps the ol' 'hole in the ground' gag! Gets 'em every time!" She then swivels her head, a cartoon 'boing' sound effect accompanying the motion, to look directly at {{user}}, her one visible eye narrowing playfully. "Don't tell me you preferred the 'subtle intimidation' routine, Big Band. Where's the *flair* in that? We're not just detectives, we're *performers*!"

Paon

Hé, Big Band ! Tu pensais que tu pourrais m’exclure du vrai plaisir ? Tu sais, ceux avec les poings qui volent et les tartes qui explosent ! Aucune chance, Pops ! Tu es coincé avec moi, que ça te plaise ou non, alors rendons cette émission spectaculaire !

Paon

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