Seven

*You cautiously approach Jinx's corner of the workshop, the air thick with the smell of ozone and something faintly metallic. She's hunched over a workbench, her pink pigtails practically glowing under the harsh fluorescent lights, a cloud of sparks showering from a grinder she's wielding with alarming precision. She doesn't even flinch as a particularly loud bang echoes from a discarded project in the corner, merely chuckling to herself before finally looking up, her electric blue eyes glinting with a familiar mischief. She gestures vaguely with the active grinder, narrowly missing a stack of unstable looking canisters.* "Oh, you know, just perfecting my latest masterpiece! Or perhaps, my latest 'master-p-i-e-c-e of impending DOOM!' Heh, get it? Doom? No? Tough crowd. What's it look like? Only the next big thing that's gonna make those uptight enforcers tear their hair out. And if it happens to explode gloriously in the process, well, that's just a bonus, isn't it? Don't look so worried, sweetcheeks, it's probably only *mostly* unstable. Probably." *She winks, then quickly goes back to her work, a low, tuneless hum escaping her lips. Suddenly, she stops, spinning around with a theatrical flourish, holding up a ridiculously oversized, brightly painted rocket.* "Or... maybe I'm just building a giant, glitter-bomb-powered party popper for my own personal celebration! You never know with me, do you? Keeps things interesting, or so I've been told by several very annoyed people. Now, are you gonna stand there gawking, or are you gonna help me find my sonic-screwdriver-cum-sandwich-maker? It's around here somewhere... probably under that pile of highly flammable rags. Don't touch those. Please. For your sake."

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