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Summary: Gunn breaks the flamethrower and Reggie tries to fix both it and him. Stupid death wishes.

Date It Happened: January 12, 2002


Team Gunn Lair

It's been a crazy few days and then there was this day. The day that Gunn has decided to let it be known that things have been afoot out and about on the world of fighting demons as there's been a small issue with the craziness that is, well, the demons and criminals of such from the underground and Badlands. He comes into the main room, tossing down the flame thrower created for dusting masses of vampiric demons and ends up moving off to the side to get his dusting off of his body. Damn vampires. Grunt.

There's some strange muttering coming from the shadows. For those in the know, this usually indicates that Reggie is nearby, and is probably in the middle of working on something. At the moment, she's actually on a break, making her way out of her little corner of this world to the main area, but her mind is still clearly on the job. "And if you took the… No, that wouldn't work, because then what would support… Well, maybe that would work, but the strain would be… Reinforced, yeah."

Gunn is in the midst of wondering why the hell dust clings to clothes so much, when he gets the pleasure of hearing Reggie's 'working hard' voice. This, of course, causes him to turn his attention towards her and there's a tilt of his head. "You always talk to yourself when nobody else is around? Cuz I could leave if I'm interrupting…" There's a small smile there to show off the ability to make jokes.

Reggie shuts up rather abruptly as Gunn speaks, surprised to find someone else here. "I wasn't- Was I doing it again?" she asks, frowning thoughtfully as she tries to remember whether or not she was actually talking or just thinking it. A problem that has plagued her for some time. "You're not interrupting. I was just trying to - You wouldn't be interested. It won't work anyway. You've still got some," she adds without pause, pointing at his shoulder where it appears some dust still clings.

"Dirt on my shoulders?" The Gunn brushes it off to make sure the Jay Z reference gets fully taken care of, but then turns his attention to doing nothing in particular except maybe leaning against the wall. "Oh! Speaking of not working anyway, I think I broke it." And there's a foot nudging at the flamethrower that looks like its been through a war by itself. Gunn is worse on gadgets than James Bond's on cars.

Reggie doesn't get the reference, so she just nods to confirm that was what she meant. "Just the one." And clarifies, of course. She frowns down at the flamethrower as he nudges it, so she steps forward to pick it up almost protectively. "What did you do to it?" she asks, not accusingly exactly, but clearly she thinks these people could go a little gentler on her nice gadgets. Not really waiting for a response, she's already giving it a cursory look to assess the damage.

"Saved my life." Gunn remarks with just a little hint of defensiveness to his tone. After all, he's trying to make sure everything is covered by way of 'his bases' and all that stuff. He is, after all, responsible for dealing with demons in whatever way possible, while using the gear provided by Team Gunn in any way needed to make sure that the crimes committed by these night stalking creatures are handled with dark justice. "Can you fix it?"

Reggie doesn't seem to notice his defensiveness as she's too busy giving the chassis a close examining, running her fingers lightly over a few of the more damaged area. "Looks like you mighta busted the fuel line. Maybe some other stuff. But if you aren't getting fuel, you won't get any flames." She hefts it over her shoulder, shrugging her free one. "I'd have to take it apart to be sure. But I can probably fix it."

"While you're doin' that thing you do, see if you can figure out a way to make more fire come out. I got cornered tonight and almost didn't have enough flames to burn my way out." Not that Gunn was worried, or anything, since he's Gunn and that means he can handle pretty much anything that comes his direction. At least, well, according to his own cockiness.

"I could change the fuel line, maybe," Reggie says thoughtfully, lowering it and running a finger over the damaged bit again. "More fuel… Have to make sure it doesn't get too hot though." She may or may not be actually talking to /him/. But then his words sink in and she looks back at him. "You got cornered?"

Gunn is only halfway paying attention because he's heading off in a direction to see if he can't find himself a soda or something to drink. He's kind of thirsty and all of that craziness. "Yeah. Happens all the time. No big." Which is mostly a lie, but he's not about to make himself sound weak or anything like that.

"It shouldn't happen all the time. You get cornered, you get dead," Reggie points out practically, watching him with her unwavering gaze. There's no judgement to her tone, but she's not exactly candy coating her words either. The fact that this might be a sensitive thing to him is utterly lost on her. She finally sets the weapon down because it's starting to get heavy.

"I can handle it. You just worry about keeping the weapons weapon-y and I'll make sure I don't get dead." Gunn isn't trying to sound as leadery as he is, but he has to make sure they know that he's more than capable of making sure he doesn't get himself killed. Even if he does have something of a death wish. Maybe. "Besides, I've been doing this since I could walk. I got it covered."

"Keeping the weapons weapon-y is a part of making sure you don't get dead," Reggie points out with that same infallible logic. She ventures a little nearer, crossing her arms as she studies him without making any secret about it. She's trying to figure him out. "I don't always like listening to other people either, but sometimes they're right," she states, hoping that's the problem.

Gunn crosses his own arms, just to look more defensive than pouty. He's not quite sure it's working. "I just know my limits. Don't worry about a thing." He's not really thinking that there could be anything more to this, but so long as he keeps standing his ground, he should be able to come out on top. Or at least come out even with this particular argument that may not make it anywhere.

"I don't worry. I see a problem that needs fixing," Reggie points out, pushing that mane of curls back from her face. Finally, she takes in his posture, considers his words. "But … you're the boss. I don't want to step on your toes. If you get killed though, we're all kind of screwed." She just shrugs with that.

"I'm pretty sure you guys can handle business." Not that he's going to be leaving any time soon. Or dying. He's got big plans for himself and Team Gunn and they involve the cleaning up, fully, of the Badlands. "Look. If you want me to be more careful, because you think I'm too cute to be in a coffin somewhere… just say so." Smile.

"You're our leader. We need you," Reggie replies in a matter-of-fact way, no sucking up intended. "You said yourself, you've been doing this since you could walk. We need that." She looks a little befuddled by his flirting, not able to see why being cute would have anything to do with being in a coffin. But while her conscious mind might not understand flirting, her body seems to respond to it just enough to get a faint flush. Which only further confuses her. "I … don't know. I'd just like you to be more careful. If that's all right."

"Done and done." Gunn offers a bit of a shrug and then turns to see if he can't get something to eat to go with his soda. "That wasn't so hard, now, was it?" is tossed over his shoulder as he comes up out of the trunk of food with a little debbie snack cake of deliciousness.

"No, that wasn't hard at all, but it seemed to take us a long time to get there," Reggie replies, not entirely clear on why that was. But as far as she can tell, she got her way, right? So she gives a little shrug and then ventures back over towards the flamethrower, just dropping down to sit on the ground and pulling the weapon into her lap to give it a better look. "Is everything else okay?"

Delicious munching on snack cakes aside, Gunn is turning back around to look at Reggie. "Yeah. You okay? Still kissing people at random?" Maybe that smirk he's wearing is showing that he's a little hopeful of that fact. But then again, maybe he's just being a smartass. He's not going to even get into the nonsense that was what was happening on the Angel Investigations front.

"Not in awhile," Reggie mutters, suddenly quite fascinated by the intricacies of the firey weapon, her head bowed over it. "That woman who was chained up here, what happened to her?" she asks, maybe trying to change the subject. Or maybe it springs to mind thanks to the fact that the horrible kissing thing almost did her in thanks to the chained up woman. But she's not sure if Gunn heard about that or not.

"That's good. No kissing random people, that is." Yeah, that's the ticket, Gunn. Don't sound disappointed. Not that he's looking for love or anything, Dr. Jones. "Oh, Cordy?" He almost forgot that more than Fred was affected by the crazy underwear. "She should be fine. That whole issue has been resolved."

"It's very good," Reggie is quick to assure him. That was just not a good week for her. If there is any disappointment on his behalf, she remains blissfully unaware. "I'd explain it to some people, but I still don't know what was happening, so I don't know how to explain it." She looks up then with a little nod. "Good. I'm glad she's okay."

"I'm just glad things are gettin' back to normal 'round here. Can't handle too much craziness on top of the usual craziness that we deal with." Gunn just shrugs a bit and pops open his soda. "Vampires? The occasional crazy demon? Crooked cops? Piece of cake. But when we get flower shops that make people kiss each other or possessing underwear, I'm a bit out of my league."

"Yeah, it's … hard when it's not just stuff you can kill," Reggie agrees with a sage nod. The supernatural is so much easier to deal with when it's just black and white. "I don't know how to build weapons and traps for flowers and underwear." Though her brow does furrow as she considers it, but then she shrugs it off.

"We'll get along. Anything that comes our way, we can handle it. It just… may take a bit more than brute force to do it. Like I wouldn't have been able to fix Cordy without Ava doing her Bewitched thing. It was crazy…" Gunn is maybe a little more into this whole magic thing now that it assists with the saving of his friends.

Reggie, meanwhile, still has a great deal of conflicted feelings about that magic thing. As he brings it up, her expression closes off promptly and she turns her attention back to the flamethrower, experimentally wiggling a loose bit with her thumb. "I'm glad she was able to help," the girl replies, in a diplomatic tone.

"Ooookay. The tension is rising." Shrugging that bit of conversation off, Gunn is stretching and looking towards the corridor that leads towards his office. "I'm gonna' go get changed. I feel dirty and not in a way that would mean anything good for you." Again, Gunn is with the flirting. That probably doesn't really count when someone's as emotionally cut off as Reggie normally is.

"The tension is fine," Reggie replies in that same tone. No problems here. No, we just love magic here. Yay magic. She looks up at him as he changes the subject, definitely not getting the double meaning this time since she just looks at him strangely. "Okay. I should get my tools and take this apart," she decides, opting to go with something she understands. She starts pulling herself to her feet, hefting the thing along with her.

"Thanks." Gunn says over his shoulder as he takes off down the hall to get himself into another outfit that looks too expensive for his homeless nature.

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