That was definitely not the result Mac expected, and Mac previously believed he suspended his disbelief sufficiently for anything upon getting here. Somehow, watching a girl successfully smash her foot through a rampaging copier is enough to rattle him, and for a moment he just stands there, stunned, bleeding slightly from where a shard of glass slicked past his cheek, watching as the copier tries to crush Nora to death.
And then he takes action. Not for Nora, really, because clearly this is her problem now, but because it's probably going to reflect terribly on him whenever news of this gets back to the Powers That Stuck an Electrode in His Neck. He scraps together just enough wits to grab a can of soda, pop it open-
-and dump it all over the copier, because if Mac's learned anything from being too drunk to follow Bill Nye the way-too-hyper-scientist-dude, it's that machines are generally allergic to liquid. It's programmed into them or something.
The copier, miraculously and terrifyingly - Mac scrambles for cover - sparks and jerks away from Nora, dragging its crippled front end against the ground. It angrily out papers at the two of them, but the readout panel flickering on and off betrays a combination of mortal woundings.
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That was definitely not the result Mac expected, and Mac previously believed he suspended his disbelief sufficiently for anything upon getting here. Somehow, watching a girl successfully smash her foot through a rampaging copier is enough to rattle him, and for a moment he just stands there, stunned, bleeding slightly from where a shard of glass slicked past his cheek, watching as the copier tries to crush Nora to death.
And then he takes action. Not for Nora, really, because clearly this is her problem now, but because it's probably going to reflect terribly on him whenever news of this gets back to the Powers That Stuck an Electrode in His Neck. He scraps together just enough wits to grab a can of soda, pop it open-
-and dump it all over the copier, because if Mac's learned anything from being too drunk to follow Bill Nye the way-too-hyper-scientist-dude, it's that machines are generally allergic to liquid. It's programmed into them or something.
The copier, miraculously and terrifyingly - Mac scrambles for cover - sparks and jerks away from Nora, dragging its crippled front end against the ground. It angrily out papers at the two of them, but the readout panel flickering on and off betrays a combination of mortal woundings.
"Well?" Mac looks at Nora. "Kick it again!"