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One thing that a fire element sailor soldier couldn't really fight was the wet. And brother, was it pouring. You know, it really hadn't been when she left the dorm--she'd have enough fun trying to strike a match in the rain already in her short, short life of Girl Scouts than she ever would admit to. So she knew that her powers, requiring fire to already exist as they did, would be pretty much useless, and she didn't go out.

But it was August and on the eastern seaboard that meant ******** random storms, like this one. And it was a storm, a great grandmother of a storm as her grandfather would have said.

Her current enemy didn't seem to care. It was a slick, snake-like monster, all green scales; the slickness made it easy for her to slip its coils, but harder to evade its icy breath that froze the asphalt under her feet. And whatever her shoes were good for--fire resistance?--they weren't good for trying to run and dodge on ice.

To put it concisely, unless someone happened along, she was <********>

Oh, great, was her first thought. Someone was yelling about burning down buildings and--and using her name. Gunn whipped her head around, orange locks clinging to the sides of her face as she quirked one very red eyebrow. It was another sailor soldier, she thought, maybe--but she'd slipped on the ice and missed his fantastic entrance.

"Damnit," she hissed, pulling herself up; the snake monster seemed only momentarily confused, not defeated, but nevertheless it was something. And more than she herself had done, which rankled. Ohhhh, it rankled. The man's distraction seemed to work, even if--well, it looked like his boots had better traction--even if it was stupid and risky.

Of course, being a sailor soldier was pretty risky. And he didn't have a buttbow or the collar--how did she know he wasn't one of those mythical Negaversers?

She didn't. "Hey! If you're going to help, kill the damn thing already!"

This was an opportunity, she thought. An excellent, perfect opportunity to bail. No one could even blame her; a fire soldier who couldn't even use her attack bailing on someone who could attack no matter the weather? It seemed reasonable, even fair, to bail.

But she didn't, because even if her first impression of the male sailor soldier was that he was an a**, she couldn't leave him to die.

So she hauled herself to her feet; the monster, with no reason to attack an unmoving target when there was a much more threatening one heading its way, had been ignoring her. The ice had melted under the hot summer rain, so she was able to hold her stance, and when the snake was distracted she practically flew forward.

She played tennis. Poorly, but she did, and the strength in her upper arms as a senshi was more than enough to crush the snake monster's head.

It was a defeat for the dark side, and technically she'd struck the killing blow--but she would have died if not for the blue-clad sailor soldier's intervention. That--and the fact that when she landed after her leap, she slipped and pitched backwards like some kind of four-year-old on ice skates--really, really embarrassed her. And as always, when embarrassed, she got pissed off, so she just stayed on the ice and scowled mightily. "Thanks, but I was doing fine," she said to the starry sky overhead. "I really was. Damnit."

Still on her back on the ice, she glared up at the stars through their cloud cover. In her peripheral vision, she say Euterpe quirk an eyebrow with what she interpreted as a mocking look; then she shoved herself to her feet. "Hey. In case you didn't notice, it's raining. Hard to light s**t up when you're slipping everywhere and--"

She paused, her blue eyes narrowing. Something he'd said seemed a little off, and when she said a little she meant a lot off. She didn't know this sailor scout; she knew, in fact, very few sailor scouts. Most of Gunn's acquaintance was filled with civilians and dead monsters. "One to four?"

Did she know this guy?

"I don't even know you," she said, belatedly scrubbing the wet fabric covering her shoulder. "Thanks for the save, whatever."

"Look, listen--I've had it up to here--" a sharp, chopping gesture indicating the space over her head "--with your bullshit, I don't even--"

And she fell quiet. Bartender and easy-going rang a bell, good-looking if she was in a good mood which she definitely wasn't. As she yanked her wrist out of his hand, she considered it. "You're Luke," she said, with a lilt at the end of the name to make it a question. For a moment, she considered it ("But you don't look anything like him!") and then she pulled back her arm and punched him in the arm, hard.

Ugh. So not only was she stuck being saved by a jerk of a sailor soldier, that same jerk was also a civilian she'd mouthed off to not once, but twice! Well, she was not going to eat any humble pie over this, she refused. "Hmph," was all the sound she made. "Jerk."

He was asking for it, and it was a request Gunn was only too happy to oblige. Her fist was still balled up so she punched him again, same spot, with her eyes narrowed sharply.

"I've still got three rescues more than you, you jerk," she said, gesturing angrily, her arms out to her sides. He was being a patronizing a*****e, seriously--who acted like this, anyway? Ugh!

She just wanted to leave, ******** hell. But her pride wouldn't allow it, it never would, so she just kept digging herself a hole with her mouth that her abilities couldn't cash in.

"Anyway, you'll never catch up. Why didn't you ever just transform yourself, huh? I've got a head start!"

True enough. Still... his abilities were a little less environmentally dependent than hers. He had more opportunities to catch up.

Prideful? He thought she was prideful? Well, you know what, she could just leave right now or, you know, she could totally punch him again. It seemed like a good idea, and she was lifting her arm for one more go. Then she heard something about a motorcycle. Her lips pressed into a thin line and she crossed her arms over her chest, considering the idea for a long moment. He was irritating, and she still wanted to hurt him, but: Motorcycle. And she was wet, that'd get her home faster; she could just go to a bus stop and transform down back to Kaatje, then call home. But that would arouse suspicions she didn't really want to bother with. Right now, they assumed she was dealing with her grief by going out and getting wasted at parties. It was an illusion she'd like to preserve.

"I would be nicer if you weren't such a male," she said, in tones that would have told a deaf person exactly how she thought of people who were males right then. "But the ride home would be appreciated."

She was making perfect sense, she thought as she followed him. The parking of his motorcycle was less than perfect, she noted; but she didn't really judge him for it, she couldn't park a bicycle, let alone a motorized vehicle--well, all right, she could. She knew what to do with a bike lock. But all the same, she decided. He had appeared awfully quickly.

The helmet entered her peripheral vision and she caught it, just in time to see the object of her annoyance drop back to Luke the bartender. Huh. So every sailor soldier had a different method of getting back to their human clothes? After a moment, she closed her eyes and then there was Kaatje, dressed kind of inappropriately for the weather--short sleeves and trendy capris. Grudgingly, she took the coat and put it on.

"I wouldn't murder you," she said. As if noticing how that sounded, she flushed bright red and looked away, pressing her hands in towards the helmet she still hadn't put on. "N-not because I like you or anything. Just because, you know, I've worked kind of hard to keep you alive and I don't really want to invalidate all that!"