Snowflake is in an almost-innocent makeout session that gets interrupted

When you focus back on the large open area where all of those **** goons had been left, along with Griffineagle and Snowflake, you find the latter two are still snuggled quite close together. Things look... well, innocent would be the wrong word, but they both still have their costumes on. You find yourself wondering if the past 5 minutes haven't seen anyone's privates coming out into the open because Snowflake wants to take it slow or because both she and the new guy she's with are wearing bodysuits that would be difficult to strip out of quickly.

The short-white-haired tomboy (another term that would piss her off if you used it in front of her, no doubt) has gotten her fill of leaning over and inspecting the space below the big guy's belt with her hands for the moment and is now straddling him, sitting on his lap and grinding her taut, muscular tanned butt across the bulge straining against Griff's colorful spandex briefs. She is gyrating from side to side, running her hands up and down her sexy body just barely covered by the thin translucent layer that covers the middle of her body between the opaque white sections along the sides.

"Come on, you've been really quiet for the last few minutes. I had to give you a talking to because of the inappropriate way you were menacing me with that bulge in your shorties. But now I think I'm the one who is being inappropriate. We just met, you know? I need to be held to account just like everyone else." Snowflake says excitably. In spite of her lascivious hand motions her face is still stern, with her eyes wide and staring and her lips pursed tightly.

"Yeah actually," Griffineagle still sounds a little nervous, "I was feeling a little threatened since you, uh, seem to be higher up the power scale than me and higher in the hero rankings, too. But this really isn't the best place and I'm kinda worried someone might get the wrong idea."

"Oh shit, you're right," Snowflake says with a sharp intake of breath - though she only tightens her thighs around his hips. "I'm absolutely sexually harassing you, even while you're badly injured and in need of medical attention. And on my first day on the Weather Watch. It could be a huge scandal or something. In situations like this," her voice gets more and more melodramatic and agitated, "there's this really dark implication that I could do something downright criminal to you and just use the resources of the League to get away with it, scrambling your memory or framing you for something to deflect. Especially since I was calling you 'toxic' and all of that when the other team members were around. But, maybe I'm just trying to help you learn to protect yourself and be assertive, you know?"

Snowflake leans forward and squishes her chest up against Griff's beefy pectorals. To get past the beak-like bill of his helmet she cocks her head sideways and slips her face up close to his. The cameras get fogged up as she pushes her lips against his. She moans into the kiss and clearly is sticking her tongue in his mouth. As if by reflex, his hands rise up to wrap around her quarter-bounceable ass cheeks and grab onto them, his strong grip dimpling her buns beneath his fingertips.

And that's how they stay for a bit. Well, you think to yourself as you go on searching for Doc, that shows how full of shit Red Weather Balloon is, accusing Snowflake of hurtling towards something pornographic when what she was actually doing with the guy she'd been left alone with wasn't even softcore, just a little PG-rated lap dance and french kissing. She was moving a little fast maybe, but no faster than the average partygoer.

As you're zooming out a bit to get a better look, however, your voyeurism-disguised-as-reconnaissance becomes actual reconnaissance by accident, as you notice (but Snowflake, having her eyes closed, doesn't) that several more of those guys in white chess pawn themed armor have been carrying the injured henchmen that Doc had treated and left in place out through a mysterious wooden door that had suddenly appeared in what had been a solid concrete wall. A trio of them carrying some kind of high-technological swords advance up on Snowflake and her semi-willing makeout partner. You realize too late that you really OUGHT to be calling out to her on the radio to warn her of the threat but that would let her know you'd been watching everything she was doing... and by the time you've thought it through it's too late.

"Alright! Hands up, hero bitch Getcher hands off him!" One of them says, holding the blade just a few feet from Snowflake. She suddenly snaps to attention, sitting up straight and still blushing clearly. Griffineagle gasps with surprise. "Oh, oh shit..."

Although Snowflake visibly bristles at his language it seems that she is just sensible enough not to start lecturing bad guys when they're posing an imminent threat to her. She grits her teeth but slowly raises her arms up above her head.

One of the three pawn henchmen lets out a long low whistle. "Well, sure looks like this one belongs here, alright. I don't remember seeing a girl like this in any of the briefings. D'you think she is a new one, or maybe a visitor from another hero town?"

"Hard to say." the first one says. "Still looks like it's our lucky day though. Doormouse will be pleased. Let's grab her before any more heroes show up, and once we're at the extraction area and ready to back out at a moment's notice we can squeeze some information out of her..."

'Griffineagle' has a face wracked with some terrible mixture of guilt and angry jealousy. "No!! Don't do anything to her. Oh damn it - Snowflake, I have something I have to admit to..."