[ It's an odd job, standing outside of a toy store and flying a little helicopter around for show just to sell the darn things. Not that Angel was complaining. Odd, yes, but also sort of fun.
With a light pulse of her tattoos, the little machine rose from her outstretched palm, flying in zig-zag patterns and weaving in and out of passing shoppers. When something that Angel could only assume was the alien equivalent of a dog (belong to what she could only assume was the alien equivalent of a rich bi--- witch) leapt at her little toy, she panicked, sending it careening into the back of Steve's head. ]
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With a light pulse of her tattoos, the little machine rose from her outstretched palm, flying in zig-zag patterns and weaving in and out of passing shoppers. When something that Angel could only assume was the alien equivalent of a dog (belong to what she could only assume was the alien equivalent of a rich bi--- witch) leapt at her little toy, she panicked, sending it careening into the back of Steve's head. ]