[Scaramouche watches the kid go. Still smiling, he follows at a leisurely pace, hanging back a bit. He's started to scat a tune under his breath, tilting his head this way and that as he settles on a rhythm for his oncoming performance. A hand dips into a pocket and brings out his flute. He could make this quick by dodging the lasers, but he doesn't want to turn down this chance to put on a show.
The instrument is lifted to his lips. The first few notes ring out across the hall.
Then the first laser fires.
He hops out of its path and twirls on the spot. Remember those pieces of rubble lying around? Well, this is their cue; a few of them are now levitating about three inches from the ground. One of them hurtles straight for the turret and pings off its chassis, nearly knocking it clean off its axis. By the time it recovers, Scaramouche is out of range, slowly strolling along to the off-beats of his fast-fingered jazz solo and dealing out the same treatment to the other turrets when he steps into their sights.]
no subject
The instrument is lifted to his lips. The first few notes ring out across the hall.
Then the first laser fires.
He hops out of its path and twirls on the spot. Remember those pieces of rubble lying around? Well, this is their cue; a few of them are now levitating about three inches from the ground. One of them hurtles straight for the turret and pings off its chassis, nearly knocking it clean off its axis. By the time it recovers, Scaramouche is out of range, slowly strolling along to the off-beats of his fast-fingered jazz solo and dealing out the same treatment to the other turrets when he steps into their sights.]