Zach rolls his eyes and puts a hand on one hip. "Not my first rodeo, Vicky." He gestures to the twisted heap. "Riaper." The gas-guzzler creaks and twists itself back into shape, even going back to how it was double-parked on the side of the street.
He regards where the chimera vanished from. "Tucked away somewhere secure, no doubt. No aftershock. Nice work, Craft." He nods to her, then turns to the young lady.
He looks at her, eyes glazing over for just a moment, before he raises a hand to his chin. "Now miss, you are...?" It's a question about identity as much as about nature.\
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