Log:Christmas Lights Boat Parade

2014/12/25 Grimm Malcolm Abigail Rae

1

Christmas Day. Most people are dealing with food comas and watching Christmas programming on TV. How dull! When there's so much to see this magical time of year! Like the Christmas Lights Boat Parade in the harbor.

Several of the ships usually docked in the harbor are floating about, drifting, playing party music, and decorated in multi-colored lights while libations flow freely. Some have light shows timed to the beat of the music playing. Some are doing laser light shows beaming across the sky. It's different from just driving around looking at housing decorations, that's for sure.

What's even more different is getting a bird's eye view on the back of a speeding hovercycle. Grimm is dressed in blue jeans, black boots, and a dark brown leather cruiser motorcycle jacketwith cream strikes down the outer arms and a mandarin collar. And she's clinging to Malcolm around his waist for dear life while whooping it up. "C'mon, pour on the speed!" she urges with a wild laugh.

Clad in a darkish brown leather bomber jacket, heavy-weight blue jeans, and heavy black biking boots, Malcolm cuts quite the striking figure on the hovercycle. It's been heavily modified, as he said, to look like a traditional American chopper - ape hanger bars, Indian-style fenders over the hoverpods, Harley-style facade over the markedly more advanced hovercycle engine system - and it looks positively badass as a result.

Malcolm rolls his eyes at the backseat driving as he swoops upward at close to a hundred and fifty miles per hour. Over the roar of the engine, Malcolm calls, "You sure you want me to pour on the speed?" He already knows the answer, of course, but that doesn't stop him from asking; his knuckles tighten and his wrist twitches twice as he revs the throttle in anticipation of his next maneuver.

Almost before Grimm can answer, Malcolm brings the hovercycle over the crest of its climb. He narrows his eyes against the wind as he regards the harbor below. Grimm can practically feel Malcolm plotting his course as words are still escaping her mouth. The hovercycle and its riders plunge out of the sky, engine roaring as Malcolm opens the throttle wide; plunging toward the harbor's glittering, glistening, reflective surface at close to 250 mph is likely to do some wind damage to Grimm's hairdo. Metal cables emerge from the neckline and hemline of Malcolm's jacket, gently wrapping around Grimm as a second layer of protection against her falling, whilst Malcolm abruptly twists the bike to the left as it reaches the lower limit of its plunge.

Somehow Malcolm levels the craft out, on its side, and Malcolm reaches out with one hand to skim the choppy surface of the harbor's waters. Glancing over his shoulder, Malcolm offers a broad, playful smile and an equally playful wink as he cruises along the harbor's surface at a somewhat more sedate 200 mph - sideways. Presumably so Grimm can join him in finger skimming the water.

"WAAAAAHHhooooooo!!!" Grimm howls with excitement at the dive bombing run. It's like a roller coaster, climbing to the top of the track, and then suddenly surging down and forward and feeling your stomach drop. She grips even tighter at the plunge, her hair whipping wildly behind her.

When Malcolm looks back, Gabrielle has a huge grin plastered on her face. She dares to let go of him with one arm and dips her fingers down while spreading them out, lightly brushing them over the water's surface to join him. She waves her arm slowly back and forth, creating a wavey wake from her fingers. "That...was...EPIC!" she cheers.

Malcolm eventually straightens the craft out completely, allowing him to stop bracing against impact. Those metal cables retreat back under his bomber jacket to wherever it is they come from, under there. He throttles back a little bit, dropping back toward harbor speeds as he describes a long, particularly curvy arc amidst the ships, the boats, and the tugs all out on display. No doubt there are more than a few criss-crosses of wakes created as he guides the bike along, engine offering what sounds like a particularly contented rumble for having gone absolutely to the line.

"I'm glad you had some time to come out, enjoy the harbor parade," replies Malcolm, smiling over his shoulder again.

"Me too! Winter break at last! I'm glad you had some leave time from Starguard," Gabrielle says with a beaming smiling, still catching her breath as she comes down from the excitement of the drop. "When you mentioned the harbor parade, I wasn't expecting to get see it quite like this."

Grimm glances over to a party yacht as they pass by, daring to let go with one hand to wave to the people dancing and drinking aboard the yacht. Given the recent pirate shenanigans (*See Forge Issue #87), Grimm chuckles and queries, "So...would it be teeeerribly illegal of we boarded one of these vessels and demanded these scurvey dogs to give us some of their rum?"

"Technically it's medical leave, courtesy of some ghostly pirates," remarks Malcolm, letting the hovercycle drift along for the moment as he throttles back further still. It maintains altitude comfortably above the water, though it just sort of drifts along as the engines idle a bit. He laughs a little bit at the question and comments, "Probably pretty illegal for me to facilitate a minor drinking rum. Even if it be booty gained from scurvy dogs."

Grimm grins guiltily. "Riiiight. I mean. I never drink." She fires off a diligent salute. Who does she think she's kidding? "Maybe something for you for the pain?" she now tries to pull the innocent face on him. "We could, er, park the bike...somewhere. And you can enjoy a drink. How're you feeling, by the way?" She looks him over with concerned scrutiny.

"I'll be fine in a couple days," assures Malcolm, smiling gently. He revs the engine for a moment, eyeballing the people on the party yacht. Malcolm does look pretty good for having been involved in tall mast ship acrobatics and swashbuckling. On the other hand, he's bundled up against the cold, so it's hard to tell whether his ribs are still bandaged. By and large, however, Malcolm doesn't seem to be in any appreciable pain.

Maybe it's true what they say? Once you get run over by a freight train, everything else is just groovy.

Grimm pats Malcolm (carefully) on the shoulder. "That's the spirit, soldier!" she encourages. "If you find the pain unbearable later on, I'll grab you some takeout," she then offers, still grinning.

Some of the party goes, a few sheets to the wind and dancing, start to notice the motorcycle duo and waves with drunken cheer. A few wave them over to the large yacht they're partying on.

"I'll be sure to let you know when I'm suffering too much," replies Malcolm, tone warm and playful. He glances over at the yacht, then glances back at Grimm. "Shall we join our adoring fans?" he inquires, grinning as he lightly revs the cycle's engine.

"I'll hold you to that," Gabrielle says back with a playful smile. She looks to the drunken yacht goers. "Hahah, sure, why not? I solemnly swear I won't touch the booze," Gabrielle pledges with a grin that is almost too innocent. And thus could come across as very guilty.

"You do know you're not under oath," replies Malcolm. He winks and turns his head back toward the yacht, revving the engine again, setting the hovercycle onto a speedy little intercept course. As the yacht draws into proximity, Malcolm guides the hoverchopper up and over to land on the yacht's deck with a little *THUNK**THUNK* when the hoverpods set down. Pulling the key out of the ignition, Malcolm slides off of the bike and offers Grimm a hand in getting off as well.

Grimm lets out a burst of laughter. "Well. Uhhh. Plausible deniability for you, then?" she giggles some more. She holds on tight (but not too tight) as they land, then takes his hand and swings her leg over the side of the bike before hopping off.

The music playing is modern remixes of the old classics, set to dance and rock beats. There's laughter, dancing, jokes, socializing, and a snack table as the pair crash the party. There's even a large hot-tub built in the deck that some brave people are enjoying. A drunk man in his mid-twenties swaggers up to Malcolm. "Whoaaa, man. Crash hoverbike." Other party goes cheer Malcolm for the sweet diving stunt.

"Yeah. She's built on a repro knucklehead frame," replies Malcolm to the drunk twenty-something. He smirks slightly, pocketing the key as discreetly as he can with so many eyes on him. Malcolm's gaze wanders around the deck for a few moments, taking in the sights before he shrugs and squeezes Grimm's hand. "How do you want to start the party, beautiful?"

Gabrielle's cheeks must be a bit pink for the cold. Or the compliment. As a server walks by with a tray of bacon wrapped dates on toothpicks, she swipes up two with her free hand and holds them up, offering one to Malcolm. "Fuel for the dance floor, handsome?" she smiles.

Malcolm laughs a little bit, collecting one of the bacon-wrapped dates. He clutches it delicately by the toothpick and playfully replies, "To a well-fueled dance floor," in a playful tone as he tips the foodstuff to bump it against Grimm's in mock toast. Promptly the date and bacon go down the hatch.

Grimm chuckles at the toast (or start of a toothpick duel, who can tell?) and munches down the bacon-wrapped date. She tosses her toothpick into a nearby trashcan, then starts heading for the open deck dance floor while trying to tow Malcolm along with her meager strength.

Meager?! Malcolm isn't fooled by Grimm's average stature. He's towed along toward the dance floor easily enough, tossing his toothpick into a trash can as he goes past, and offers Grimm a broad, playful grin. The tall man squeezes her hand lightly as they enter the dance floor proper, gently tugging her back toward him as he grins.

Grimm lets out a playful squeal as she gets tugged toward him from leading the charge, executing a half spin as she gets tugged right into a dancing position with Malcolm in the lead. That was lucky. Wait, is Malcolm often lucky? Isn't this usually the time where something weird happens, like Kali Marie returning for her umpteenth revenge?

Hey. HEY. If you're going to invoke Malcolm's undersea nemesis, at least get her name right. Kala Marie is, however, vacationing near the equator this time of year, where the water is warmer. So the yacht is safe from her watery, tentacular VENGEAAAAAAAAAAAAAANCE.

Malcolm grins at Grimm, that actually worked out correctly for once. He starts to dance with his rather smaller leading lady, relying almost entirely upon his gold-wired reflexes and atheleticism to keep this from going horribly wrong. It seems to be functioning at a passable level. For the moment, Grimm gets to enjoy a dance with a relatively unscathed Malcolm on a very nice yacht with some kickin' music playing.

So it had been several issues since Kala Marie's appearance, and the editor let something slip by. It'll get fixed during the release of the trade paperback.

Gabrielle is definitely on the shorter end of the heroine scale. She also knew they were going to go on a motorcycle (the hover was the surprise) so she was practical and didn't wear high heels to boost her short stature. All that means is she has to crane her head up to look at Malcolm when she smiles at him or shoots him a flirtatious glance.

A social life spent at clubs has left Gabrielle a pretty decent dancer. Natural, fluid. She can move with the beat and get lost with the music. She matches Malcolm to go at his speed. "So is this what you usually get up to for fun when you're off-shift?" she asks with interest.

Malcolm grins broadly, cheeks faintly flushing everytime he gets shot a flirtatious glance. He may not be as practiced at dancing as Grimm, but he makes up for it with lightning reflexes and an incredibly smooth manner of movement. It's not noticeable from a distance, but up close and personal like this, Malcolm moves more smoothly and easily than a guy of his size and build should be capable.

"Huh?" Malcolm momentarily looks puzzled at the question, almost like he was lost in a reverie of his own, before his gaze fixes on Gabrielle's face intently. Offering a warm smile and a shrug, Malcolm quietly replies, "Nah. I've never been great at the club scene thing."

"Really?" Gabrielle seems surprised for some reason. "So then, it's motorcycles and cruising when you're not saving the city from ghost pirates?" she asks as she pulls away but holds on to one of his hands, performs a twirl so it looks like he's the one twirling her, then draws back in close. "Could've fooled me about clubbing," she laughs jovially.

The harbor is full of boats showcasing christmas lights. It's a giant Christmas Day party. There's ships decorated in holiday lights. Some even have light shows timed to music. There's music playing, parties, and all the light reflecting off of the water looks magical in the bay.

On a large yacht, one of the bigger ones, a large party is going on that Malcolm and Grimm got invited to crash after a stunt over the water. The music playing is modern remixes of the old classics, set to dance and rock beats. There's laughter, dancing, jokes, socializing, and a snack table as the pair crash the party. There's even a large hot-tub built in the deck that some brave people are enjoying. Malcolm's hovercycle is parked on the bow of the ship.

"Well I do club a lot of mooks," replies Malcolm, grinning playfully as he wraps both arms around Grimm, "But you said when I'm not working."

Yep, that's all the pose you get this round.

Snow has been out and about, she couldn't sleep, so the ice queen as been taking in the city on this holiday. The sounds of the parties cover the wooshing of the frost that shoots out behind her propelling her through the air as she uses her wings to manuever. She hacked an invite to a party and so here she is. She alights on the deck of a large yacht, where a certain party is going on and the icy wings and her icy exterior melt, leaving her dressed in white.

Grimm and Malcolm should be easy to make out in the dancing crowd. While everyone else is wearing nice suits and dresses, Grimm and Malcolm are dressed more like they were the ones who came in on the hover cycle. Gabrielle Grimm is dressed in bike jeans, black boots, and a dark brown leather cruiser motorcycle jacketwith cream strikes down the outer arms and a mandarin collar, while Malcolm is clad in a darkish brown leather bomber jacket, heavy-weight blue jeans, and heavy black biking boots.

Gabrielle smiles up at Malcolm and gets daring, reaching her arms up and wrapping them around his neck and shoulders as they dance closely. "I saw," she chuckles. "That was some hit you landed on buzzsaw blades guy. Remind me not to challenge you to a game of minigolf," she winks. "Or if it's a team thing, you're totally on mine."

The harbor is full of boats showcasing christmas lights. It's a giant Christmas Day party. There's ships decorated in holiday lights. Some even have light shows timed to music. There's music playing, parties, and all the light reflecting off of the water looks magical in the bay.

On a large yacht, one of the bigger ones, a large party is going on that Malcolm and Grimm got invited to crash after a stunt over the water. The music playing is modern remixes of the old classics, set to dance and rock beats. There's laughter, dancing, jokes, socializing, and a snack table as the pair crash the party. There's even a large hot-tub built in the deck that some brave people are enjoying. Malcolm's hovercycle is parked on the bow of the ship.

Grimm and Malcolm should be easy to make out in the dancing crowd. While everyone else is wearing nice suits and dresses, Grimm and Malcolm are dressed more like they were the ones who came in on the hover cycle. Gabrielle Grimm is dressed in blue jeans, black boots, and a dark brown leather cruiser motorcycle jacketwith cream strikes down the outer arms and a mandarin collar, while Malcolm is clad in a darkish brown leather bomber jacket, heavy-weight blue jeans, and heavy black biking boots.

Rae is moving more into the main party, dressed in white after having alighted on the yacht in her icy armor and with icy wings, both which have since melted.

Let's be fair here, Malcolm (and Gabrielle) look pretty stylish in his (their) biker gear.

Malcolm wraps his arms around Grimm's midsection when her arms go around his neck and shoulders. Somewhere in the middle of the dance, Malcolm's head cocks to one side as he notices Rae wandering about the party - it's not hard since he stands head and shoulders above fully two-thirds of the people on the dance floor - and Malcolm absently notes to Grimm, "Wonder what Snow's doing here?"

Crap, did he just Unluck himself?

When Starguard issues invitations... or rather passes them along, some folks don't really get the option of saying no. Abigail Hearns was told by her CO that she would attend the party on the bay. She was told that she would go in costume... which she objected to. Apparently, she won that part, because she manages to show up... literally a helicoptor comes out of the sky and she steps out of it, drifting to the deck of the yacht, in her full Marine Dress Blues. It's the new unisex Dress Blues, with pants for all rather than a skirt. It's much better for being able to fly at the very least. But white lid (hat) that she puts on only after she's out from under the downdraft from the chopper as it peels off... dark blue coat with her 'fruit salad' of medals, white pants, white gloves, and ceremonial saber (which would really be functional should the need arise.)... hell, she might not be recognized at first had she not drifted from the chopper to the yacht with that light golden glow of her plasma.... She stands at the edge of the ship's deck, reaches up to afix her lid, and then addresses the most visible authority figure on the ship as she says, "Lietenant Colonel Hearns, requesting permission to come aboard."

Grimm turns her head and twists a little to try and glance to where Malcolm is looking. And stands up on her tip toes a little to help with the viewing. "I don't really know who Snow is, so I'd have no clue. Probably partying like everyone else?" Okay, so she needed more help than just being on her tip toes, so she floats off the ground for a few extra inches to peek over heads.

Rae starts to move to the music. She isn't here with anyone and that of itself might stand out a little. She adjusts the gloves on her hands and then smiles a bit. She glances over and waves to a familiar face in Malcolm and then is back to dancing, she is after all sort of crashing the party even if she has an invite.

Only when someone seems to give her permission to board, albeit with a bit of an amused grin.. does Abigail step further into the mix of things. Yeah, coming aboard a ship... even a private ship, is a rather important detail and ritual for a Marine it seems. Or at least for this one. Sometimes, when you are on display, when you are the face of the military's super powered platoon... you need to be more mindful of these things than the regular rank and file.

She nods... it's not a formal salute, because well, the master of this ship isn't -her- superior officer. But then she steps towards the crowd and well... she doesn't recognize a lot of folks because truth be told, she's been absent from the local metahuman community, focusing more on training and such of her troops. But.. she shows up at Starguard now and then... and she recognizes Malcolm and... he has a date? That makes her mouth quirk just a bit as she begins approaching.. Now, one thing should be noted, there are very few things less subtle than a Marine, in dress uniform, approaching someone...

"Snow's this... Well I'm not entirely clear on the whole story. She was an Olympic gymnast at one point though," explains Malcolm. Or at least he tries to explain. His dark eyes flicker away from Rae after waving to her, his hand absently returning to its previous perch on Grimm's lower back as his gaze shifts toward the golden glow of the arriving Abigail.

"... Oh. Balls..."

Malcolm visibly pales, at close range, when he realizes Abigail is headed his way. He looks at Grimm and clears his throat a little bit. "We're, uh. I mean. I think we're about to get inspected."

No, that's not really what he meant to say. It is possibly true in ways he cannot hope to understand, but it's not really what he meant to say.

"With a name like that, maybe we'll actually get to have a white Christmas!" Gabrielle says cheerfully as she sinks down from her floating and tip toes, having spotted the woman in the white dress. Of course her voice is loud enough to carry for Snow to hear the unofficial request.

She looks back and up at Malcolm (way up, since he's a foot taller than her) and raises an eyebrow and a sly smile. "Oh are we?" she says suspiciously back, taking it as some sort of awkward attempt to hit on her. And then she realizes a bit afterwards that there's somewhere else he's looking, and she glances over. Nope, no need for tip toes this time. The Marine approaching is pretty obvious. "You're, uh...not ditching your duties, are you...?" she murmurs aside to Malcolm.

Rae cocks her head to the side and then does drift over that way though Abigail is probably going to get there first, especially since Rae is a bit focused on dancing as she goes.

Inspected? Well, Malcolm isn't a Marine, and as such, he's not subject to the scrutiniy Abigail'd give to an official soldier. She steps up and inclines her head, "Starguard asked me to show up here for... whatever reason." she says to Malcolm. "Nice to see that I am not..." she flickers her yellow-irised eyes to Grimm before they come back to Malcolm, a twinkle of amusement in them... "suffering alone tonight. If this can be called suffering that is." Then she simply turns towards Grimm once -greetings- were done. She offers a hand and adds, "Abigail Hearns, or just Abby if you prefer. Nice t'meetcha. Any friend of this goon is a friend of mine." she says, a gesture with her chin towards Malcolm to indicate which goon she is talking about.

"No. Like I said before, medical leave," murmurs Malcolm a few seconds before Abigail arrives. He twists, keeping one arm around Grimm's midsection as he turns to face Abby with her. Offering a cheery smile, Malcolm replies, "Lucky you, Lieu. We just got invited while we were watching the boat parade."

Grimm twists towards Abigail and drops one arm from around Malcolm's neck, and dropping the other to behind his back, since it's easier for her to teach when turned to the side. "Hi. Gabrielle," she shakes Abby's offered hand. No full names tonight; she's just a normal civilian. Yessiree. "Goon...?" she chuckles and looks up at Malcolm after Abby calls him names. "I don't know about that. He's seemed awfully heroic every time I've seen him." Well, there was that wild kitten dive and intro in mid-air. But what an introduction!

Rae does reach them and dips her head, "Did I hear a request for a white christmas?" she asks a bit playfully and seems to be in a fairly good mood.

"Already got a white lid." says Abigail as she gestures to her had with one white gloved hand. But she smirks a bit and raises a brow. "Every time? You must've just met the guy then. If you like, I could tell you some -tales-... tales that might make Mister Gibbs here blush." And then she looks over to Rae, who she has met of course, and grins, "So, why not make it snow?" she asks. "Better than making it rain, right?"

Malcolm just buries his face in his free palm. Why does the universe love to torture him so? He peeks out of his hand long enough to intone, "Yes, Snow! Snow is exactly what we need right now!"

That didn't sound too desperate for a distraction, did it?

"Well actually, yes, we've only known each other for a short while. Oooo...what sort of tales?" Gabrielle sounds absolutely intrigued to hear what she assumes must be more heroic deeds and adventures. But fortunately for Malcolm, she's easily distracted by Snow and Malcolm. "White Christmas? Yes!" she cheers out enthusiastically as she looks to Snow. "Can you do that? I mean, with a name like that, I hope so! How crash would that be to go with a light show?"

Rae smiles just a bit and then nods her head. She glances skyward for a moment and the air right around her seems to drop in temperature and before long the first few flakes of snow start to drift down on the party. "Limited it to be bay area, wouldn't do to blanket the city." she says though it sounds like she could do just that. THe overall temperature doesn't drop too much which means the snow melts shortly after hitting the ground but it is snowing on the bay now.

"Well, I wasn't -at- the event, but I read the reports, viewed the vids on file and all, but let me tell you all about the time he did his best impression of railroad tracks." says Abigail towards Grimm in an almost conspiratorial voice. The sudden cold in the air doesn't seem to bother her. I know, cold is just a -lack- of energy, but this is a superhero world, where her internal plasma keeps her warm. She moves aside as if trying to beckon Grimm closer, and away from Malcolm.

"I told her about that," comments Malcolm, a little too quickly and excitedly. He momentarily tightens his grip on Grimm's side, but it relaxes a moment later as he regains control of himself. Or maybe because a GIANT ball of snow just fell out of the sky on him.

"... waugh..." comes from inside of the ball of snow that used to be Malcolm.

Grimm finds herself on the receiving end of what she thinks is just a nice innocent snug, and not nervous attempts at keeping her away from Abigail's tales. "Yeah, I've heard that one. Any other interesting tales of dari--eee!" Whumph! Giant Snowball for a date. Gabrielle's arm is partly trapped beneath the snow, since it was wrapped around Malcolm. And, well, part of her side as well. "That's some white Christmas..." she murmurs as she tries to brush the snow off, with perhaps little progress. She gets some off of Malcolm's shoulder at least for a start.

Rae blinks, "Um, I didn't do that." she says na dshakes her head a bit,

"Well, that was just the most heroic one I thought of. Of course -he- told you about that one." Abigail rolls her eyes, still smirking before she thinks for a moment, "Well, there was the time he helped with the elemental avatars. I had to read about that one in the reports, apparently he and another agent approached a chinese restaurant and it kinda.. exploded. Was an interesting read. Zero civilian casualties, mostly due to his quick thinking. Oh, and then he saved an entire Bar and grill from collapsing once when the primary load bearing support beam was ripped out of the building." She eyes Rae and raises a brow, "Someone else made the giant snowball?" she asks as she heats up a hand (and glove) with a plasma field, and reaches to start slicing bits of snow from Mal. (Tunelling, used creatively)

By some miracle, Malcolm is quickly extracted from the snow. He blinks a few times, wriggling his cheeks and mouth a bit, trying to work the full on snow beard off of his face. It goes poorly - although it does go well with his as yet unnoticed snow afro (afsnow?).

Grimm just smiles up at Malcolm's snowbeard and snofro. It's like he's a giant snowcone now. She does chuckle at Rae and Abby's comments. "Yeah. Totally had nothing to do with the snow, I'm sure," she says in playful sarcasm. Little does she know Malcolm's reputation as at trouble magnet and how weird things just happen to him. Like giant snowballs burying him after a light snow. Or fighting ghostly rollerblades. Or how it makes total sense that the person he asked out just happens to be the mistress of tenebration (as dubbed by Rose) and nightmare.

Gabrielle's eyes travel up to the snofro and she fights the temptation to draw a smiley face in it. "You, uh. Missed a few spots," she tries to say with a straight face.

Rae cocks he rhead to the side and frowns a little and then shakes her head a bit.

Stepping back a half pace, Abigail just shakes her head, "This is why he's in Starguard. He'd be a menace if he was unsupervised." she says as she dusts some snow off of Malcolm's shoulder before turning towards Grimm, "Tell you what... the only thing better than telling stories with him right here, is telling them in private over a beer, when he has -no- idea what stories I've told. Why don't you let me buy you a drink sometime and we can do that?"

"Hey! I'm from New York, I know not to be a menace to south central while drinkin' my juice in the hood," protests Malcolm. He frowns at Abigail for a moment, then pauses as the gears click into place and he realizes what Grimm told him. Looking to Rae, Malcolm inquires, "Can you... Give me a hand? I'm having snow troubles here."

To punctuate his point, Malcolm wipes at his face and ends up with SnowFro and snowy mutton chops... Dear god, he's turning into Snowy Samuel L. Jackson.

Grimm very politefully, very tactfully, says to Abigail, "As much as I would love that offer, I'm afraid I'm underage." Malcolm knows that probably wouldn't have stopped her from saying yes. Since she's really just declining to be nice to Malcolm. Whom she looks back at in time to see the new mutton chops and SnowFro. "Ohhuuuuh..." she can't quite form the words to explain what the issue is. But her eyes are locked on the top of his head and the sides of his face. She slowly raises a hand to...gasp! Cup his cheek affectionately? Oh. Oh, she's just brushing off something there, that crumples and falls away in powdery snowy slumps on his shoulder and the deck.

"Okay, a cup of coffee then." says Abby with a smirk. She shakes her head, "if you want, I can like... fastmelt it away for you Mal. Totally your call." she remarks, hands resting at her sides now. Dress uniforms lack real pockets and she has a difficult time finding anywhere to put her hands.

Rae nods and shakes her head, "Haven't figured out how to just move it yet, so not much I could do." she says and then her phone goes off, "Well looks like I have to go." she says, "The snow should last about 15 or 20 more minutes." she says and then she moves to the edge of the yacht and stands up on the rail. Frost forms at her back and then solidifies and grows into a pair of icy wings which she flexes a bit. She leaps from the rail and uses the wings to glide, skimming the surface of the bay before there is a blast behind her and a wooshing sound as she starts projecting ice and frost behind her to accelerate and propel her through the air. She soon vanishes in the distance.

With what may pass for a magnanimous sigh, Malcolm wraps both of his hands around Grimm's hand on his cheek, pulling it down to his chest as he looks to Abigail. "Just don't set my goatee on fire this time, please."

"This time?" Gabrielle inquires. Now there's got to be a story behind that. She blushes a bit as Malcolm pulls her hand down from her attempt to assist. She didn't even consider how that may look. After Abby does her work, Gabrielle grins. "No burnt goatee," she confirms so Malcolm can relax.

"Who did I look like before?" inquires Malcolm, puzzled. He looks down to Grimm and nods, smiling gently at her assurance. Squeezing her hand, Malcolm looks back up and smiles at Abby, "Thanks, Lieu. I appreciate the help."

"You've seen Pulp Fiction, the old 2D from years back in the 1990's, right?" asks Abigail as she lowers her hand. "Well, mutton chops.. fro..." she shrugs, "The Path of the Righteous?" She adds, quoting the character. "Brain Cleanup in the back of the car?"

Grimm makes a face as she tries to recall that movie. Then, recognition hits. "Ohhh. Yeah, that old classic." She looks back to Malcolm and tries to repicture the snofro and muttonchops. "Yeah, I can kind of see that."

"... I was Samuel L. Jackson?" inquires Malcolm. His expression is blank, unreadable, inscrutable.

For all of about two seconds. Malcolm doubles over in laughter, pulling his hand away from Grimm to grip at his ribs. It hurts to tank Ghost Bombs and then erupt in uproarious laughter the next day, even if you are a superhero.

Grimm giggles, but with a sympathetic expression. "Are you going to be okay?" she asks with a hopeful smile.

Pain does not stop Malcolm's laughter. He wipes away a few tears with one hand, his other hand still clutching his side as he tries to regain his composure. Looking over at Grimm, he offers a warm smile and a curt nod whilst he continues to laugh. Seriously. Samuel L. Moth******ing Jackson.

Grimm chuckles more openly once he gives her the A-Ok nod. "Mutton chops. If they're up to Starguard code, you may help give them a comeback," she teases. "And you may get a lot more confessions during interrogations." Because who wouldn't be terrified by someone who looked like Samuel L. Moth******ing Jackson yelling biblical verses at them and threatening terrible vengeance. Hardened criminals would s*** bricks.

"Oh man. Oh. Oh... Ho man. That hurt in a good way," comments Malcolm as he starts to calm down, straightening up slowly. He turns his head toward Grimm and smirks a little bit, shaking his head. "Mutton chops and a fro definitely are not in line with regs," he explains, smiling as he glances around the yacht for a few moments. "You want to go get something to drink, so how long the Lieutenant Colonel can stay civil with civilians?"

Grimm may actually seem a bit relieved that it's against regs. But she's still amused and smiling. "Sure. Maybe we can find something for you to kill any aches and pains," she suggests as she looks towards the bar situated near the main cabin. "So is Abby, or, uh, the Lieutenant Colonel, you're superior?" she asks as she walks with Malcolm to the bar, glancing back at Abby trying to be social. "...I should've taken her up on that beer. That would've been a hoot."

"Sort of? It gets a little complicated because she's in the Marine Corps, but is also officially a part of Starguard Gamma; meanwhile, I'm just an agent of Starguard who's been assigned to Ess-Gee-Gee."

Malcolm shrugs a little bit, wincing faintly at the unconscious act. He gently wraps an arm around Grimm's shoulders, smiling at her thoughtfully for a long, long moment. "You should call her Abby. She's not super strict on the rank thing unless you're in the U.S. military, but I call her the Lieu as a sign of respect. She taught me a lot about acting like a proper soldier when I first got transferred here, on the battlefield at least."

Grimm gently slips an arm around Malcolm. As if little her could accidentally hurt him. "Abby. Gotcha. Yeah, I'm not in the military. But, I did put in my resume to apply for the SGG internship. Maybe I'll hear back? I may have to call her by rank then, if I get the winter internship," she shrugs and grins. "Ohh, so she's kind of your mentor? No wonder she was offering stories." That smile turns more mischievous amusement for a moment. "It'd be tempting to ask her to tell me some of those tales. But I'll cut you some slack and turn down her offer." She looks to the bar. "So what's your poison?"

"Let her tell you what she's going to tell you," replies Malcolm. He offers a puzzled, almost quizzical expression as he regards Grimm. "I may not like her telling tales about me, but I'm not going to think badly of you for listening to what she's got to say. And I'm hopeful that hearing some embarassing stories Abby's got about me won't scare you off."

Oh wait. Porter's one of Malcolm's best friends. This could end horribly, even if he doesn't yet realize it.

"Well...I know I would probably be embarassed if people told you stories about me, so I won't do that to you if I can avoid it." Oh, the irony that Gabrielle's worried her misunderstandings and altercations will scare Malcolm off. And the fact that one terrible accident nearly killed one of Malcolm's unknown best friends could end horribly, even if SHE doesn't realize it yet. That'll be...awkward.

As they reach the bar, Gabrielle behaves and orders, "One shirley temple, please."

"Hm. Lemme grab a beer, man," intones Malcolm to the bartender. He rummages around with his free hand for some cash, providing prompt payment of the bartender as soon as the drinks are ready. Malcolm laughs a little bit, smiling at Grimm as he comments, "I'm telling you, Gabrielle, total media blackout doesn't work. Eventually something's going to slip in there, as much as you try to avoid it. You may as well just embrace her stories. Besides, who's going to go around telling tales about you? You're awesome."

"Thanks for the drink," Gabrielle says to Malcolm, and another thanks is said to the bartender as he hands her her soda with some maraschino cherries that've sunk to the bottom. She chews on her lower lip a bit as she starts to lead the way to the port side railing, then sips some of her soda from her straw, seeming aprehensive. "Well. Uhhh. I'm still new to my powers. Really new. And they tend to creep people out, but I didn't really have a choice in the matter," she says as they get a little more isolated from the crowd on the dance floor.

She leans back on the railing and stirs her drink with her straw, trying to drag one of the cherries up the side of the glass with her straw. "I'm still learning to control it all. And there've been a few accidents along the way," she confesses nervously. The cherry is almost to the top, then slips and sinks back down to the bottom. "But I've done some good things along the way, too."

"No problem," replies Malcolm, smiling at Gabrielle. He follows her over toward the railing quietly, nodding a little bit as he listens. Malcolm leans over the railing, bracing himself with one forearm as he looks thoughtfully at both Grimm and the bay before him.

"Shadow powers are freaky things," opines Malcolm, rolling his shoulders a little bit, "And being new to the whole powers thing? Shick happens, I understand that - God, do I understand /THAT/ - it's no reason to be squirrelly about your past. Trust me, I quit the ro thing like thirty or forty times before I even ever considered joining Starguard."

Grimm takes a loooong sip from her soda and tries to get at one of the cherries again. "Yeah, well...someone...someone got really hurt by accident once," she says sullenly. "Sometimes if I'm not completely focused, it's...how do I explain?" She glances down at her shadow on the deck. The shadow shrugs back at her, even though she doesn't. "It's like my powers have a mind of their own. And sometimes they overreact when they perceive a threat and I'm too hurt to hold them back."

"I don't know if you noticed, Gabrielle," intones Malcolm. He turns around so he can lean back against the railing as well, head lolling back a bit as he considers his phrasing for a few seconds. Tipping his head to look Grimm in the eyes, assuming she's looking up at him again, Malcolm continues, "But I've been at this rosenville thing a little longer than you. You want some advice that I wish would get put in the newspaper and on the Internet everyday?"

Grimm gazes back into Malcolm's eyes, the distraction causing her to lose progress on her cherry fishing again. She chuckles softly. "It definitely seems like you've been at it more than a little longer than me. I could use any advice I can get."

"More often than not, people don't end up with superpowers that they just intuitively know how to control. Accidents happen that first year or two you have powers. There's no real school for superpowers, there's nothing that really prepares you for whatever the hell it is you suddenly become able to do," intones Malcolm, his tone gentle, but resolute.

Pausing to take a long swig of his beer, Malcolm takes a moment to look up at the sky. He studies it for long seconds before looking back over at Grimm, smiling. "I assume the guy survived. So let me ask you something about it. Did you learn anything about your powers from it? Did it drive you to work harder to bring what you've got under your control?"

Another pause so Malcolm can sip his beer. It also gives Grimm a moment to answer.

Grimm nods solemnly, regret clear on her face about what happened. But his words seem to at least least some of the guilt. "Thankfully, he did. He didn't even blame me for it. Just said...stuff like that always happens to him," she murmurs quietly. She gazes at Malcolm and gives a nod, answering honestly, "It did drive me to work harder on controlling it. I mean, I'm -still- working on that. But I'm trying to be a lot more mindful and cautious now. It's gotten better."

"Huh. Sounds like my buddy," comments Malcolm. He shrugs a little bit, dismissing it absently as he takes a long swig of beer. Turning a warm, confident smile on Grimm, Malcolm lightly claps her on the shoulder with his free hand. "Then the accident was a learning experience. It was important in helping shape you into the metaro you're going to be in a couple of years. Embrace it, accept it, remember your lesson, but don't be embarassed about it."

Grimm blushes at Malcolm's advice as she takes it to heart. "I...never thought about it that way. I'm been anxing over it a lot lately. But...I'll embrace it. And keep trying to learn control." She smiles, feeling a weight lifted from her shoulders. Well, a metaphorical weight. Since there's the literal weight of his hand on one of them. "Thanks, Malcolm," she smiles up at him warmly. "I really needed that advice."

"Just pay it forward, Gabrielle, you'll be in my boots someday."

Malcolm winks at Grimm and takes a long swig of his beer, very nearly draining the bottle. He lounges comfortably against the railing beside Grimm, gently wrapping that one arm around her shoulders to pull her in close against his side.

"You'll probably look a lot better in 'em than I do of course."

Grimm chuckles and snuggles up against him, then takes another sip of her soda. She's nursing that shirley temple like she's a light weight. "I don't know. You do look pretty good in those boots," she comments merrily as she looks down at his feet. "Although...okay, I could totes see myself with boots like those, too," she admits.

The yacht party seems to be winding down, partly because many of the party goers have had their fill of booze, but also because they've finally switched to slower songs to wind down the dancing. The snow still drifts lightly in the air, catching some of the ship lights in the harbor. Gabrielle watches the dance floor and the sky, snow, and stars for a bit. "This has been a really interesting night. Merry Christmas," she says, looking back up at Malcolm with a smile.

"This has been just about the best Christmas I've had in a long time," replies Malcolm. He gives Grimm a fond squeeze around the middle with one arm, looking into Grimm's eyes quietly. A few moments pass, some snow passes between them. "Merry Christmas, beautiful," Malcolm intones, leaning in to rest his forehead against Grimm's. For the moment, he doesn't press for a kiss, apparently just enjoying having her there with him.

Grimm blushes at his comments, still gazing up at him in wonder. "W-wow." Then a smile ago. "I'm really happy to hear that," she says shyly. "I'd have to say this ranks as my best Christmas so far." Well, adult Christmas. Because let's be real; your best Christmases are when you're a kid and you get a ton of presents.

She leans her head in as well and closes her eyes, just enjoying the moment. There's a slow pop remix of Last Christmas playing in the background.

~"...Last Christmas, I gave you my heart. But the very next day, you gave it away. This year, to save me from tears, I'll give it to someone special..."~

Ironic. Her last boyfriend very literally tried to take her heart and give it away. But Malcolm does seem like someone very special. Gabrielle pulls her head back a little, if only to give her room for something brave. She stands up on her tip toes and stretches her neck up to try and dare to give him a soft Christmas kiss. I mean, he did save Christmas, after all. Aren't heroes supposed to get rewards? A kiss from a damsel? Get the girl? That only happens in stories...

Fate, for one sterling moment, smiles on Malcolm. Trouble, mundane or wacky, does not rain down on Malcolm or Grimm. He leans in, as much accepting the soft Christmas kiss as he proffers Grimm a sweet little Christmas kiss of his own. Malcolm, whilst kissing Grimm, wraps both of his arms about her and just snuggles her in against his larger frame.

It's a Christmas miracle! Nothing weird or crazy happens. Which is a record for Gabrielle. And probably a record for Malcolm as well. They sometimes say it feels like you're floating when you're kissing someone special. Gabrielle finds this to be true. Also because she is actually floating an inch or two off the ground without realizing it. It's a good thing he snuggles her against him, because she might just swoon. When the kiss finally ends, she offers a sultry smile. "That was for saving Christmas."

"Well yeah, I know why I kissed you," replies Malcolm with a sly grin and a wink. He gives Gabrielle a gentle squeeze in his arms and grins, adding a playful, "What'd I do to earn a kiss from you?"

Grimm bursts out with a soft laugh, then just gives him a playful smirking 'You knew what I was talking about' grin. And then a look of 'oh fine'. "Hah hah," she says dryly, but she's clearly amused. She sets her drink precariously on the railing off to the side so she can free both hands so she can reach up and wrap her arms around his neck. "That was for giving some really good advice that I needed to hear. And for being great guy."

Malcolm keeps his arms wrapped around Grimm's midsection, holding her close as her arms wrap around his neck. He offers a little smile and a shrug, head tipping to one side as he regards the Grimm in his grasp. "I'm glad I could help, Gabrielle."

"-And- for saving Christmas," Gabrielle smirks as she adds that in there, and pops up on her toes again for a quick, defiant smooch. "So there!"

"Aw c'mon. I didn't do that much," protests Malcolm. He gets smooched defiantly and promptly shuts up.