"It probably wouldn't, but he still loses out on rumba-privileges," she giggled. "He's supposed to be smart enough to save your butt anyway. And that sounds awesome. I'm always up for a good explosion. Especially ones you can roast marshmallows over. Man, now I want s'mores."

Come to think of it, she had some useful goodies that'd be perfectly safe in transport. Small, powerful bombs made for good care package material. She'd throw in some cookies and call it a late birthday gift. And possibly smack herself for not thinking of it sooner.