It was less about scientific integrity and about Misha's understandings of Victor's ethics. That was to say, she felt it safer to assume he didn't have any rather than hold him to unspoken rules about how to go about things when something was in his way. Although it was entirely unfair to Doom, Misha really did not care about being fair when she had just been kidnapped. Let him prove his own morals in more esoteric subjects if he wished. She just wasn't going to make the leap for him.
While he finished up with ALFRED, Misha surreptitiously tried holding her arms out over her head in a sleepy sort of stretch. Her breath hitched when one of them locked up at the elbow; her mind took hold moments later and wrapped the arm in her cosmic thread, forced it to finish pulling out anyway and she ducked her head to hide the pain. This sucked. She was much less capable of being up and about than she dared admit with Doom in the room and was reduced to cheating with her power to fake it. When he came to the door, she eyed him long and hard, noticing the pulse emitter he still wore on his wrist and flicking her gaze to the larger emitters affixed to the corners of her cell. The door was open, although that didn't necessarily mean the field was, but it was a chance. Who knew when she would get another one?
She gently launched herself over the tray of food until she was standing by the foot of the cot and walked to the door, taking ALFRED first. She set him back up, visor and earpieces and core on her arm, made sure his boot sequence was going before she reached for the pills. At the last moment, her hand shifted and her arm was under his wrist, pushing up and away in a hope to unbalance him before he caught on to hold his ground. In the same motion, she was leaning and shoving off the air to try and make it through the gap of the door, her thread expanding into fabric and covering her from every angle — if she could just get out of his reach fast enough, make it far enough to get through the floor or the ceiling or somewhere he couldn't just grab her, she would be home free. She could totally do this.
no subject
While he finished up with ALFRED, Misha surreptitiously tried holding her arms out over her head in a sleepy sort of stretch. Her breath hitched when one of them locked up at the elbow; her mind took hold moments later and wrapped the arm in her cosmic thread, forced it to finish pulling out anyway and she ducked her head to hide the pain. This sucked. She was much less capable of being up and about than she dared admit with Doom in the room and was reduced to cheating with her power to fake it. When he came to the door, she eyed him long and hard, noticing the pulse emitter he still wore on his wrist and flicking her gaze to the larger emitters affixed to the corners of her cell. The door was open, although that didn't necessarily mean the field was, but it was a chance. Who knew when she would get another one?
She gently launched herself over the tray of food until she was standing by the foot of the cot and walked to the door, taking ALFRED first. She set him back up, visor and earpieces and core on her arm, made sure his boot sequence was going before she reached for the pills. At the last moment, her hand shifted and her arm was under his wrist, pushing up and away in a hope to unbalance him before he caught on to hold his ground. In the same motion, she was leaning and shoving off the air to try and make it through the gap of the door, her thread expanding into fabric and covering her from every angle — if she could just get out of his reach fast enough, make it far enough to get through the floor or the ceiling or somewhere he couldn't just grab her, she would be home free. She could totally do this.