"How many times have we been to the West Coast this year?" Helena asks me.
I pause, counting on my fingers. "Probably five times. At least."
It's fairly warm out today, Helena has her jacket slung over her shoulder. I'm carrying the bag with our Farnsworths, phones and other stuff we usually need - I don't mind.
"And how are we supposed to find this collar...here?" Helena gestures around us at the hundreds of men and women dressed in every imaginable leather garment. Luckily for us, we actually know what we are looking for, but it's simply a matter of finding it in a crowd this size.
"Look for someone being dominated." I suggest, but then realize how idiotic that sounds here and roll my eyes at myself. Helena sort of tilts her head at me, wondering where my brain has gone. "Someone being very dominated, more than usual."
"Right, well, I will go over to that section and how about I meet you back at the corner of 9th and Harrison." Helena lets off a slight purr at my ear, reaching into the bag we share. She's hunting around for a static bag and gloves. "Whilst here, I wouldn't at all mind if you picked up some items." My eyes widen for a moment; there's no way I could handle that much leather. She's so incorrigible sometimes.
I give her a quick kiss as we part. I have never liked splitting up when we're working. Too much chance for plans to go horribly wrong, not to mention the high probability that Helena is going to do something amazing or silly. I don't want to miss anything she does, especially when we're in San Francisco - polar opposite of the Badlands.
45 minutes later...
"Myka!"
I turn my head at Helena shouting my name in this crowded place. She's walking towards me wearing a cat ear headband and pulling a buff, shirtless young man wearing a leather hood (complete with a zippered mouth) and leather pants with a collar and chain around his neck. Oh dear.
"Helena, what -"
"Found the artifact." She's clearly pleased with herself for finding it, but does she really need to grab this boy along with her? Helena gently pulls his leash as the three of us walk to a quieter area of this well-attended street festival.
"And you hate cats." I say with a motion towards the cat ears. "What's going on?"
Helena is acting all coy, relishing tugging that leash a little more than I anticipated.
With gloved hands, I take the collar off him and toss it into the static bag. Sparks fly and yet again the world is safe from another dangerous artifact. The young man reaches up to the zipper at the back of his head and removes the mask.
"Thanks, Myka."
I recognize the voice: it's Steve.
"I'm not going to ask."
He chuckles for a second, looking at his feet. "Who do you think called in the ping?"