At the Feet of a God

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 Initiating author
 Notes

Logan glowers at his reflection in the washroom mirror.

Jack creeps up beside him, croaks, "You clean up real pretty."

"This outfit's a death trap," he grumbles.

"Wha?"

"Collar's about to slit my throat, tie's gonna strangle me, the pins are tetanus in pretty colours, and the stupid fucking shoes might as well be ice skates."

"Overdramatic much?"

"I like my clothes practical."

"You're getting your picture taken, not dodging the—"

""You ready, Rangers?"" calls Gagnon from the suite door.

"Showtime," mumbles Jack.

Logan rolls his eyes.

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>transition<

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Logan trails Gagnon, mentally mapping yet /**another** identical corridor (though, to its credit, this one actually has people, and, thankfully, is wider than most).

"We're heading to the hangar," explains Gagnon over his shoulder. "Normally you're not allowed in here, but it's the only place big enough for the whole team."

Logan grunts.

Jack stops walking to double over with a cough.

People scatter.

Logan halts, sighs.

Gagnon stops, looks on with genuine concern. "I'll book you an appointment with Medical to get that checked out." Taps a note into his tablet. "Sounds like it's gone to your chest."

"Thanks," croaks Jack, straightening.

"Right through here." Gagnon gestures to a large double door opening into a /**massive** space Logan hasn't seen since it was a skeleton. "As for where we're supposed to go--" Tugs Jack out of the way. "Probably not in the doors." Checks his tablet. "Bay Two." Looks up. "All the way over there."

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>transition<

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Logan looks up at the Jaeger, and up and up, "[continued comment to Gagnon or Jack]—" Whistles. "That's tall."

Jack stops beside him, sniffles, rasps, "Seventy-eight meters."

"/**Jesus.**"

"And she's yours, Rangers." Gagnon beams.

A flash of ginger hair in his peripheral and Logan shudders. >is this a random ginger or is this a cat?<

Jack sneezes so hard he doubles over.

A group of nearby techs shuffles away, someone with burgundy hair tugging the sleeve of a fluffy blond's jumpsuit.

Fluffy queries.

Burgundy flicks their eyes over Fluffy's shoulder.

One of Jack's lungs tries making a break for it.

Fluffy twists, hurriedly digs a rag from a pocket and offers it.

Burgundy nearly face-palms.

"Th—" Jack dissolves into coughing.

Fluffy offers it to Logan instead.

Logan gives his best 'totally unhinged' grin.

Burgundy tries dragging Fluffy away.

Fluffy smiles cheerfully.

"Thank you, Officer Vos," says Gagnon, taking the rag.

Fluffy replies with a thumbs up, lets Burgundy pull them away.

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>They take the picture on a set of bleachers unfolded at Vulcan's feet. (I say 'unfolded' as when not in use, the bleachers collapse into a stack of metal boards for convenient storage.)<

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"Alright—" A photographer-y person looks around.

Gagnon waves. "They're over here!"

"Excellent!" The photographer steers Jack and Logan to the bleachers and sits them down front-and-center.

The space around them explodes into motion, techs scattering like roaches— >lovely similie, there, Logan.<

Someone with an air of rugged authority plunks down beside Jack with a nod—

""J-Tech around the sides, everyone else in the middle why am I bothering you guys know what you're doing ....""

People scramble up on either side.

Nguyen sits beside Logan—

""Ray!""

Logan's eyes bug out a bit at the sheer decorated-ness.

Officer Four-eyes, in a pale grey wool jumper looks rather daunted at the prospect of squeezing in.

—straightens his jacket, nods to Logan.

Officer Four-eyes floats closer to the bleachers and the person beside Jack gives their knee a boost because someone's leaned over Jack, grabbed the officer, and hauled them into the crowd.

"Garment bags are over there," Chantell mutters, absently fiddling with her hair.

Nguyen tugs her down on his other side.