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It's a brisk evening in Greenwich Village, with wind coming through to strip leaves from the trees while a cold drizzle almost threatens to turn into rain. There are fewer people on the street than in warmer days, but one can still spot the occasional local bundled up, people spilling out of clubs laughing, and a couple diehard hippies sharing an umbrella as they panhandle. It's the Village in fall.
A young woman of about twenty walks in the middle of the street. She's in a nightgown that hangs limp with moiture; she's been out here long enough the near-rain has wetted her uncombed blonde hair. Barefoot, she clutches her hands close to her chest and looks around, wide-eyed.
This isn't really Carlos' scene, you know? He's a Hell's Kitchen kind of guy. Maybe Brooklyn. He's normally got an easy confidence about him, but at the moment, he's feeling like EVERYONE SEES HIM and he forgot to put on clothes. He's in black, loose-fitting slacks and a black hoodie, with a reddish-orange bandana around his neck. He's all like, don't mind me, nodding mildly to — what's that? He blinks, and jogs over towards the confused looking woman, "Senorita? Are you okay?"
It is not, to say the least, great wether for a motorcycle. And yet that's how Takumi got to the village this evening. There are definite disadvantages in the colder months to being bound to keep what's in the saddle bags close. As he rumbles down the block, looking for a the bar he was heading for, he spots the nightgown-clad woman and decides to check out what's going on, even if someone else seems to have approached her first. He sends a little spray off the road as he wheels the bike hard over to the curb. As he swings his leg off the bike he says quietly, speaking to the bike, "Stay. Be good."
The change to chill, rain, and fall in general is new to Hope. It's not that the future doesn't have seasons, it's just that…Well, they're mostly a lot of drabness. So the orderly change of seasons is still something she's experiencing for herself. A good enough reason for a walk in the rain. Hands in the pockets of a bomber jacket she borrowed out of a closet at avengers mansion, her uncovered head wet. Which doesn't bother her in the least.
It's the sound of concern in someone's voice that catches her attention, chin rising as she looks toward the source and slowly meanders in that direction.
Residential streets are give and take when one is skulking through the area, however, here Morbius is. His excessive amount of coverings in the form of trilby, overcoat, jacket and so on seems less than suspicious now that the weather is turning and now threatening to rain. His head stays down, dark hair spilling forward to curtain off more visual of his features while he walks along the sidewalk, hugging the buildings and away from the headlights of passing vehicles. Attention draws toward the middle of the road and the woman standing there, wide eyed and…odd. Morbius' feet slow, not quite stopping if others are taking care of this.
And there's Lamont, who refuses to affect black in his daily life. He's in a plain gray trench coat, over a dark suit, rain runneling off the hat he's wearing. He's heading somewhere with apparent purpose, pace brisk….though he slows when he notes the young woman. That isn't right.
She's got dark eyes, this woman, so dark one can't tell where the iris begins and the pupil ends. She stops wandering when Carlos comes toward her, and she turns her head, taking him in. "I'm evolving," she tells him in a tremulous voice. She looks around, seemingly unaware she's in the street, though she starts when a horn honks as a car whips by. She lashes out an strong hand in an attempt to grab Carlos' arm. "Make that stop."
One of the hippies under their shared umbrella, dozing up til now, wakes up, blinks dark eyes slowly, then looks around. Bearded, with scraggly brown hair, the thin fellow paws through his scarce belongings.
Carlos has absolutely no idea what's happening here, but he nods his head, and when the woman grabs at his arm, he lays a hand over her hand gently, and tries to urge-encourage her away from the middle of the street, "I'm not sure how, but maybe if we take you to a hospital, they'll know how to help you?" And/or give her some haldol. "I can help you get some help, right?"
Evolving? That catches Hope's attention even more than the tone, and her unhurried steps take on more life as she breaks into a jog to get to the woman. "Hold on," she calls over to Carlos, reaching out toward the woman. "Miss. You said you were…evolving?" She glances toward Carlos, then around the rest of the street, letting her senses extend, reaching out for mutant powers around herself.
Takumi walks up, coming from where he left his bike. He addresses Carlos first, since he was the first to approach the obviously out-of-it woman. "You know her?" It's an obvious question, but important to know regardless. Then he looks to the woman, "There shouldn't be too many car horns tonight. What's your name? Sometimes it's the obvious things that get overlooked.
Evolving? Morbius' slowing pace veers with concern. The last time he saw someone 'evolve' it ended in flames and blood in the middle of the street. Tipping his head up, inhumanly red-engulfed eyes shift around the area at large, inhaling a deep breath, his attention veers straight toward a rushing Lamont, giving the same uncertain slowing of pace over what's going on. Well, not what he was looking for in the air but there he is. Straightening his posture, the pale and macabre figure stops in place on the sidewalk directly across from the small gathering of folks in the street. Passively watching for now with the paranoid twitch of his attention flicking around.
He's making no secret at all that he's watching the young woman. Lamont's expression has gone wary, beneath that impassivity, and he's tipped the brim of his hat up to see better, and he's stopped entirely. This is wrong….and it's starting to feel wrong in a way that's faintly familiar.
The woman is fairly easy to lead. She doesn't seem to have a destination in mind. Her brow knits as she says, "They called me Matantu, but that's not right. It's… it's… mistaken identity." She's quiet for a moment. Then she says, "Soon I won't even need these physical forms." Her feet are bruised and cut from the rough asphalt and a few pieces of broken glass from a broken headlight. She doesn't seem to be in any pain, though. She also doesn't scan as mutant.
The hippy pulls a shard of plastic from a broken pickle tub from his pile of blankets and, without a word to his partner, steps out into the rain and makes his way toward Lamont at a clip. That shard of plastic is wickedly sharp, curved slightly. As he passes by Morbius, the pseudo-vampire can hear him hiss under his breath, "Not you."
Carlos glances over to Hope, and 'evolving' suddenly clicks with him, and he nods, looking to the woman with a furrowed brow, "Mutant?" he asks, and from the tone of his voice turning protective and not disgusted, its clear what side of the mutant question he comes down on. But still, despite the hold on from Hope, he does lead her at least to the sidewalk before they figure out what's going on with her. "Matantu? Uhh. Hey, look, I'm Carlos…"
"If so, I might be able to help," Hope murmurs to Carlos, reaching out to touch the other woman's hand. Whatever she was hoping for or expecting, though, it doesn't come. She frowns, still staying close, with another look to Carlos. "I don't think she's a mutant," she says quietly, shaking her head, without any explanation for the belief. Which, in her book, sounds like bad news of one sort or another.
Takumi takes off his jacket and moves to drape it over the woman's shoulders as the night's misty weather must be doing a number on the nightgown. Talk of mutants makes him glance around, but he doesn't actually comment on it directly. Instead he says to the other two taking an direct interest, "We should get her somewhere dry at least, and see to those feet. " The hippy with the improvised weapon goes unnnoticed for the moment, at least by Takumi
Morbius' attention is scattered while the feeling of impending doom breathes down the back of his neck. Increased awareness means like anyone with anxiety can tell you, the brushing of another human being past him from nowhere turns his attention quickly. The hippy passes him and continues on toward Lamont. At first. A yard off from the pale creature and in a blink of speed, Morbius reappears in front of the hippy, a wicked looking, clawed hand outstretched in a 'halt' motion. "Where are you going with that, friend?" The delicate clip of his mediterranean accent low, but hard as iron, glancing down at the impromptu weapon. Something was amiss. Red eyes peer from under the brim of his hat. "He is not my most favorite of men, but if you are going where it seems, I think you may be biting off more than you can chew."
That motion has Lamont turning in a hurry, just in time to see Morbius confront the man holding the scrap of plastic with clear intent to harm. And Lamont….suspecting what might be behind this, reaches for his will and then for the mind using that human body as a puppet.
|ROLL| Kai +rolls 1d20 for: 14
|ROLL| Lamont +rolls 1d20 for: 9
|ROLL| Carnelian +rolls 1d1000 for: #-1 ARGUMENT OUT OF RANGE
The woman accepts the coat around her shoulders, though the gesture causes her brow to furrow, perplexed. "Carlos," she murmurs. "You are all different. Different minds, different names." As the hippy approaches Lamont, her head turns toward him, and she bares her teeth. Her eyes grow darker as she says, "I want to kill him." She starts that way.
The hippy at first walks into Morbius, then looks up at him, as if only now noticing there is this man-shaped obstacle in his path. With a near childlike sense of reasoning, he explains, "But I want to kill him."
The mind Lamont tries to occupy shifts its attention to him (the hippy tries to look past Morbius to focus on Lamont), and he can sense the dark, vast, tentacly goodness and, somewhere underneat, the dreaming mind of a sleeping man. Nightmares start to creep into Lamont's psyche. His worst fears.
Carlos just nods his head to Hope, accepting her determination, though he makes a covert 'crazy?' sign twirling around the side of his head, with a questioning look for the woman. He nods to Takumi, "Yeah, like, hospital would probably be a good idea, I don't know anything about first aid." But then he frowns, "Now, now, senorita, lets not talk about killing anyone, okay? Killing is bad. It's messy. Totally ruins everyone's day."
"Yeah, let's…maybe not," Hope agrees with Carlos' opinion on killing people, moving to step in front of the woman with a hand to her shoulder. Whatever's going on here, it doesn't sound right. If anyone's looking closely enough, they might see a faint flicker of red-orange light at the hand at the woman's shoulder as she instinctively starts to pick up on Carlos' power. "Killing people is frowned upon in polite society. Mostly. Without- I mean, actually it's a more morally complex situation than you'd think, but this is definitely a not-killing time."
Takumi has more than a little bit of intuition telling him there's something bad going down here, but he hasn't figured out just what, nor has ne noticed the connected conversation going on between Morbius and the hipppy. He's too focused on the woman for the time being. He says carefully to the woman, "You need to calm down and be still…. a choice of words that will likely end up with her own gclothing trying to restrain her, thanks to the somewhat uncontrollable nature of Takumi's abilities.
Morbius' gaze narrows faintly while he /reasons/ with a hippy with a shank. "Yes, I can appreciate that affect he has on others, however, you may have to try much harder than /that/." a clawed hand points down with remarkable tact to the curved impliment.
|ROLL| Kai +rolls 1d20 for: 12
|ROLL| Lamont +rolls 1d20 for: 10
Something about that hippy's stare has somehow ensnared Lamont. His face has gone pale, brow suddenly sheened with sweat, and he stumbles back a step. "No," he says, breathlessly. The thing lurking in that grubby body has tapped into the old visions: the plane burning behind him, and the trenches beneath rushing up with that terrible speed.
The woman stops when Hope steps in front of her. She tugs the coat tighter around her. "But I want him dead," she explains in her most reasonable voice. Like hey, this can be worked out. It's just a thing; she wants him dead, then everyone can chill out, maybe grab a gelato. "He stops me from doing what I want to do." She glances over at Lamont, and as he pales and sweats, she smiles. "I'll take him over and make him kill himself." Throughout this, she remains calm. Docile, even. The whites of her eyes slowly disappear, though, leaving only blackness.
The hippy stops trying to push past Morbius, and he stares at Lamont. Stares. A vicious smile slashes across his lips, and he murmurs, "You're right. This weapon is suboptimal." He drops the plastic shard to the wet ground.
Okay? Black eyes? Carlos is not an expert in all things you know, weird, but he knows one thing, and he knows it super good. If your eyes are all black that's bad news. He practically /hops/ away, backwards, and without really fully intending on it, he is suddenly surrounded in a reddish-orange light: the light forms a geometric, multifacted planar shapes, not so much a conventional armor shape, but its clearly armor… made up of light? Yeah, Carlos— ahem, Carnelian now— spooks at black eyes.
If there's one thing Hope knows, it's telepaths. Unfortunately for Hope, this isn't a telepath, but that's what she knows, so that's what she thinks is happening. And if a telepath is getting handsy with the brains, then there's a simple solution: knock them out. So when the woman's eyes go black, Hope's immediate reaction is to lean back and aim an uppercut at her jaw, intending to knock her out.
|ROLL| Kai +rolls 1d20 for: 18
|ROLL| Hope +rolls 1d20 for: 17
Takumi doesn't spook quite as much as Carlos does at the change in eye color. But the change in Carlos gets him. He stumbles back towards his bike as he yelps, "What the hell is that?" whether he's talking about the eyes or Carnelian is comepletely up for grabs.
Suboptimal is one way to put it. Morbius watches the hippy stare past him. Stare daggers. a slow glance backward under the drizzle of the dreary sky, there's a rather heavy sigh pulled from the living vampire's chest after taking a look at Lamont. An apologetic look cast to the hippy, Morbius turns back to him, "Well, that seems more effective. However…" An in humanly strong hand rears back, balled into a fist to deck the guy right in the face. "I have stock in that one."
|ROLL| Morbius +rolls 1d20 for: 1
|ROLL| Lamont +rolls 1d20 for: 3
|ROLL| Kai +rolls 1d20 for: 1
Whatever psychic battle is going on….Lamont's no longer on the back foot. Physically, he's not even trying to defend himself, but his gaze has locked on that poor fool who'd originally intended to shiv him. And the look there is suddenly terrifying.
The tide has shifted, and now the attacker's in his grip, even if narrowly, and he's trying to chase it out of its victims' minds.
The woman looks at Carnelian with those not okay eyes. His glowing planar shapes seem to fascinate her. "I'm going to take your mind," she tells him. But then Hope punches her, and her head snaps back. Ow. That smarts, and it's going to leave a mark. It doesn't knock her out, though. Instead it incites a tantrum.
There's a few things about this tantrum that need to be explained.
Her scream sounds like a multitude of voices in different pitches, and every single one of them pitches a fit, as of a thousand vorpal toddlers crying out as one. Which might not be as unsettling as the tentacles that explode out of her mouth, black tendrils without suckers, but they're good at winding around people, and that's what they try to do, so she can shake them in a fit of pique.
Morbius punches the hippy in the face, and tentacles lash out from his mouth and ears to try to squiggle around and engulf Morbius' fist. It's perfectly placed for just that, but the hippy is distracted by Lamont coming down hard on his mind, and it just sort of ends in mutual… well, that happened.
Lamont meanwhile struggles with these unruly creatures, and he manages to get into the hippy's mind. The man's sound asleep, dreaming of his worst nightmare. Being drafted.
|ROLL| Kai +rolls 1d20 for: 14
|ROLL| Carnelian +rolls 1d20 for: 10
|ROLL| Takumi +rolls 1d20 for: 5
|ROLL| Hope +rolls 1d20 for: 17
Carlos for a moment points, all like, 'See? Toldja. Black eyes is monster', and then his glowing armor is wrapped around in a tentacle, and he didn't even think to try to dodge more then leaned over that way a bit. He's used to being nearly invulnerable if he has his armor up, "Excuse me." His arms are trapped, which means, no swords. "This is so not okay with me, I want you to know, this is not okay." He non-consents! That doesn't seem to really have a lot of impact on the tentacle monster, though. "I'm going to count to three. One." A flat plane of light appears before him, as he's shaken and more jitterly is all, "t-t-t-two" Another plane. "Fuckit." The light shoots down to try to strike into the tentacle holding him, and ideally, sever it, since they are _super_very_sharp_ lights.
Takumi has, so far, given every impression of being the average guy on the street. Until tentacles try to grab him. Then he does something decidedly odd. He yells in Japanese. It has the sound of something formal. Like a prayer. The words, translated, would mean "Ancestors guide and guard me so I may guard others." What happens next just adds to the chaos going on. His bike, nearby, revs and rears up like a horse pawing at the air, and one saddle bag flies open. What looks very much like another tentacle at first whips out, and starts wrapping around Takumi, fighting for placement with what comes from the woman's mouth. As it settles into place, it becomes obvious that it's a long strip of black silk, with many finely sticthched Japanese characters ebmbroidered into it, and it is trying (where it can get around the tentacles, to wrap him up like some sort of clothing
When punching doesn't have the desired effect, Hope ducks down and away from the tentacles, reaching to her boot to pull out a serrated hunting knife. She slices at the nearest tentacle, stepping in close to try to slam an elbow into the woman's solar plexus.
Tentacles. That's suboptimal. For Morbius at least. Surprise registers clearly across the monster's features. Shock. For a split second at least where his mental dislogue is something like 'huh…well then'. No idea what Lamont is doing behind him, and ever composed, the hooked nails on Morbius' free hand extend like a cat's, allowing him to tug at the tendrils encircling his fist and swipe at them, like a tailor cutting trailing threads. And he falls asleep? Lord! Morbius looks deeply /annoyed/, red engulfed eyes glowing faintly. Glancing back again toward Lamont. "Cranston," the vampyric man's voice calls. "An explanation?" dafuq?
"Something from another dimension is trying to break through. IT seizes minds, especially of those dreaming." Lamont….the strain is visible. The muscles of his throat are as taut as cords, and there's still sweat on his face, despite the cool. "Keep fighting, you're distracting it." While he tries to kick it right out of the poor would-be draft dodger's mind.
|ROLL| Kai +rolls 1d20 for: 3
|ROLL| Morbius +rolls 1d20 for: 16
|ROLL| Hope +rolls 1d20 for: 3
|ROLL| Lamont +rolls 1d20 for: 14
|ROLL| Takumi +rolls 1d20 for: 10
|ROLL| Carnelian +rolls 1d20 for: 13
This dream-invading tentacled nightmare from another dimension is having the worst night. First, it's not allowed to kill Lamont, then it's not allowed to kill Lamont. THEN Lamont starts pushing it out of its puppets. These people keep trying to stop it, and it's just not fair.
The woman shakes Carols and Takumi. Shakeshakeshake! The motion is oddly fluid, the way only a boneless tentacle can do. Then the tentacles start coming off. Carlos slices through the tentacles holding him, and the chopped off ends dissipate into shadows that fade away. The creature encased in the woman withdraws its injured tentacles, releasing Carlos.
Takumi too is able to shake off the tentacles trying to wrap around him, slithering in amidst the silk, but the silk covers Takumi much more efficiently than they do.
Slices of tentacles fall to the ground as Hope cuts them, and they too dissipate into shadows. When Hope bashes the woman in the solar plexus, she falls back, and the tentacles bulge out. In the middle, the tip of a very large beak pokes out of her mouth, then retreats again. It's too big for her to barf up without tearing her to pieces. Which hasn't happened. Yet.
The hippy withdraws his tentacles as they get scratched, and as he falls to the ground fast asleep. Of course the moment he hits the ground it wakes him up. "Ow, man, what happened? This is a bad trip, man. Where am I?" He looks up at Morbius, eyes widening in horror. "Not groovy, man!"
Lamont is able to sever the connection to the hippy. And to the woman who's turtle-heading a beak, he manages to get to her mind in all of this. The pain from getting her solar plexus slammed into has her starting to wake up. Somewhere. Deep down. It makes the screaming creature shriek in a singular voice, "Help me! Someone help me!" Then it screams in multitudes, "No! I do not require assisstance!" Though, honestly, at this point that's a lie.
Augh! Shakeshakeshake! Carlos's booty is shaked, though not because he wants to. How rude. But, the monomolecular forcefields make great blades, and slice cleanly through the tentacle then vanish. As the glowing-armored Carlos lands, he shifts into a fighting stance and a katana of light appears in his hands, he narrows his eyes behind the carnelian armor. BUt otherwise? He's a little confused and so just stands ready to assault another tentacle.
"I'm going to need assistance sleeping when this is over," Hope grimaces at the change in the voices, that flicker of red-orange light that matches Carnelian's showing around her hands again as she falls back a step. Instinct wants to throw up walls, but intellect warns that those constructs can obviously cut and do serious damage. Best to hold off if she's not sure how they work.
Takumi, now looking like something between a ninja and a mummy, is decidedly better in a fight in his garb. He speaks in soft tones in Japanese, an incantation of the same spells of protection on his costume. Empowered by his voice, they actually do what is intended, making him tougher and more agile, allowing him to peel off the last of the grasping tentacles, and evade any more that come his way. He does, however, take a moment out of his incanntation to call out in English. "Jacket! Off her!" At which point the coat he'd put around the woman's shoulders literally leaps off and starts dragging itself by its arms towards him.
"Ah," succinctly, Morbius nods toward Lamont and pivots back to the fallen hippy. Fair enough. A dismissive glance levied back down at the startled and sleepy hippy. The resonant red glow still casts a gastly hue over Morbius' face, but it is with purely human disgust that he grunts and rubs the bridge of his nose. "Get a job!" damn hippy! Then louder, the glowing of his eyes intensifies and he bares his fangs to scare the hippy off. "GO!" less bodies, less minds to take over, yes? Hurry! The Man might get you!
|ROLL| Lamont +rolls 1d20 for: 4
He's still struggling with it, even if not physically. More attempting to sting and hurt the intruder, like a matador playing a bull for the crowd. It seems to've done a number on Lamont's self-preservation, however.
|ROLL| Kai +rolls 1d20 for: 4
Tentacles flail, but more weakly now, shying away from the people wot hurt them. The beak withdraws further too, until it's just tentacles flying about. The shriek still comes though. "I WANT TO KILL HIM I WANT TO KILL HIM I WANT TO KILL HIM!" Epic temper tantrum. This is an creature who does not know how to deal with frustration at all.
When the coat flies off her shoulders, the woman-turned-creature startles, then screams again, like the monster has any cause being scared of something. Horror beyond mortal ken? Sure. Ambulatory clothing? A bridge too far. "I don't like any of you!" says the woman… thing. The eyes are back to just dark, though, and there's a trace of fear in them.
The hippy yelps and bolts toward the other hippy under the umbrella. "Come on, Janine! We're getting out of here!" The Man is a vampire. He knew it. He knew it!
The inside of Lamont's head gets bludgeoned by the creature's will, and all its shrieking over by the others rattles within his own psyche. They've got it so discombobulated (and angry) that he's able — barely — to slide between it and the woman it possesses, making it possible to shuck it out of her like a mussel from its shell. The tentacles withdraw into the woman, then disappear, and she falls limp.
Carnie notices Hope showing his color, a color in a power that he's never seen anyone else show before— and he looks surprised. He isn't sure what that means, but… can she do what he does? Is she like him and uncertain? She seems uncertain. "Picture a wall and put your will into it, and set it, and imagine it sharp or dull! Then see it move!" Just in case, he has a weird power-twin out there. What else explains his signature, that color, someone else showing? Maybe he's dreaming. But he moves towards the tentacles, his skill practiced and refined, but really, relying upon his light-swords which he imagined into being quite decidedly sharp edged, to slice into and nullify them as he can.
Hope nods to Carlos, just in time for Lamont to work his magic. The field she builds slides under the woman as she starts to fall, catching her and floating off the ground like a cot. "Thanks," she says, then looks over her shoulder toward Lamont and the others. "That wasn't normal, right? Because that definitely wasn't a mutant. In case anyone was about to blame mutants for it."
Morbius watches the young man run away in a panic, quickly schooling his appearance into something less horrific with a bow of his head and re-situating of his hat. Tentacles seem to withdraw all over the street and settle down once more. A bowed glance in Hope's direction, he shakes his head. "A bit more complicated than that, Miss." Rather then stepping into the street, Morbius strolls casually to Lamont's side, checking on the fellow who seemed rather in distress and battling on his own Elsewhere. Peering at the shadow from under the short brim of his hat.
The struggles seems resolved, finally. Lamont sags, all the tension departing in a rush…..he even goes down on one knee. "I have it," he says, softly. "Contained. For now."
Tentacles fall like rain, fading into shadows which then disappear before hitting the ground. Then they retract, the woman falls, and it's onto a plane of carnelian light rather than the wet, hard ground. She lies there, sacked out, but then she starts to stir. Her features pinch in profound discomfort, and her hand flutters to her throat. She starts as she realizes she's not in her bed. In the orangish glow, her features are drawn and pale. "Where am I?" she asks, her voice wavering. "How did I get out here?"
Meanwhile, inside Lamont's psyche, tentacles whip around and a multitude of voices scream hatehatehatehatehate into his mind. So much hate. What did this guy ever do to them?
Carnelian sees the tentacles fall away, and hes hesitates a moment, and then all the glowing light surrounding him just blinks out of existance. He moves towards Hope immediately, looking.. intrigued, confused, interested, "Are you like me? Do you have the carnelian light?" He glances over to the others, but, he's just not that guy who answers questions after the fact. Awkward, that. So. This lady who has a similar power as him, he's super suddenly interested in.
"Sort of like you. I'm a mutant," Hope smiles faintly to Carnelian, but she's still keeping an eye on the woman, on keeping that platform she's on intact. Dropping her right now would be bad form. "But my power's actually using other people's powers. I can do it because you can do it, is all." She looks to Morbius as he explains, then to Lamont. "Do you need…help?" Not that she's sure how she's going to help, but she could at least walk him home or something.
Down Lamont goes and near enough to do so, Morbius immediately reaches out to attempt to catch and steady the exhausted man, saving his knee that blow. If there's any exasperation over Lamont's apparent exhaustion, he keeps it under wraps until he can express his annoyance and have Lamont appreciate it properly. He honest isn't very astute in what Lamont needs, so there's a somewhat grim look of cluelessness passed to Hope, then back to Lamont. "Can I get you somewhere?"
He looks up into Morbius's face, clearly confused. "Do you know Mrs. O'Reily's?" AN odd request - that's a teahouse, not far from here. "There. I can rest there." A beat of hesitation and he asks, "…..please."
The woman realizes the only thing keeping her off the ground is a plane of carnelian light, and she starts, then hops off of it. Her poor bruised and cut feet cause her to wince. "This happened before," she murmurs, shivering in the cold. "I live over there." She points to a building that's next to Billy and Teddy's, if anyone knows those guys. Lamont's been there once before. Wasn't she trying to jump out the window lasts time? She looks between the mutants and says, "I want to go home. C-can I go home?" Again, she doesn't have her keys. This time she didn't lock the door, though.
The pounding inside Lamont's head is an incessant, vicious thing. Hatehatehate. Man, Lamont really did not make a friend in that thing, and he's not taking any steps at endearing it to him now. However, for the moment, it is not harassing poor women and hippies in their sleep. It's merely slowly gnawing away at his soul.
Carnie regards Hope for a long moment, and blinks, but shrugs, accepting it, "The light is hard enough to stop any car, and if you set it in a place, it would take a tank to dislodge it. But it will move by your will, if you will it, and if you wil it, its edge will cut steel. But you have to concentrate, and think of it in a series of flat shapes: it took a long time to get my armor, to be able to force my will into so complex a shape. If you think of it as a simple plane— a square that is just there— and then focus on it moving, its a dagger." She uses other peoples powers? So be it! He shares the basics of what it is to be Carnelian. But he looks to the woman, and wanting to go home, and.. he just doesn't know what to do.
When the woman gets up, Hope lets the construct dissipate, nodding absently to Carnelian's explanation. "That makes sense," she agrees, though she's keeping an eye on the woman. "I'm not…I feel like you should probably see someone, or be supervised for a bit?" she suggests. "But I'm really not sure who you'd go to see for that. It's not like you can call up the octopus-ghost-ologist for observation. Should she also go to, uh, Mrs. O'Reily's?" she asks Lamont, like he's cogent enough to answer.
The teahouse /sounds/ odd, but the instant understanding and astute (if dry) smile which Morbius exhibits seems oddly 'in the loop'. He nods. "Yes. I know it." Turning his attention back toward Hope once more, Morbius keeps his head bowed forward, but offers a pressed smile between his lips. "I will take care of him. Would you make sure the confused lady gets back into her building safely? Call this number," Morbius reaches into his pocket and produced a battered looking business card and offers it out to Hope. "Tell him Dr. Morbius told you to call and a dimensional creature possessed a woman and they need to come to your location." Straightening up, it's a little undignified, but Morbius scoops Lamont's weary body up in his arms, tipping the gathered man into his chest. "Close your eyes. You may get dizzy," Morbius advises cordially to Lamont. The taller man's frame seems to give him no problem.
He doesn't protest, not a whit. Lamont must be in a bad state indeed, for he lets Morbius carry him. On the way, assent turns into actual unconsciousness, the dark head lolling back.