And you can't think of any idea why this might have started? No cursed objects you've picked up, special presents you've been awarded, anything like that?
I would talk to Redbright, yeah.
Maybe ask another metahuman if they've developed further abilities like
that. Ask Sylvia if she's heard of it? She is president of the
Institute, after all. She would probably know, if anyone.
Although I'm not sure how useful this will be, beyond saving me in clumsy moments.
[ There's a pause, probably long enough for Faolan to have begun writing a reply, then a short video blips through.
It's terribly filmed, Lancelot clearly doesn't FaceTime people or anything because he fumbles his phone a moment before getting it at a good distance to focus and darting his eyes off screen.
A moment later a pencil weaves onto screen unsteadily, floating in front of him. Lancelot lofts an eyebrow and mouths weird before it wobbles again and drops, timed with Lancelot looking slightly surprised and ending the video. ]
I don't know. Maybe? Nothing's happened exactly but. Something's come up. I don't exactly have anyone else to talk to about this secret mission of mine.
Lancelot has found a way to comfortably balance the phone while also sitting in a way that the dog can drape over him without making his legs go to sleep. Actually quite tricky since she always seems to want to be near enough on top of him in some way, and he might need to get up at some point. ]
[Faolan's found a room to himself, one that he can keep people out of. It will buy him some time and some privacy -- long enough for a phone call at least. He'll have to let go if Kenzi tries him on his burner though.]
Hey. Sorry, I didn't mean to spring this on you, I just thought...
No, no please it's fine -- are you safe? If you need getting out of somewhere fast I can come pick you up.
[ He sounds concerned. This is because he is concerned. After all, Lancelot has yet to find out why Faolan might need to get out of his job. He's expecting the worst. ]
I... What? [Faolan sounds genuinely surprised at
that.] No, I'm. I'm fine. I'm at Hillingdon House, I've got.
There's a lock on the door, no one's going to be listening in. I'd just.
Like to talk this out, if you've got the time.
[He's more than a little worried he's going to be getting in trouble
for making this particular judgment call.]
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[It really isn't fair, you know.]
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Yes, apart from that.
I would talk to Redbright, yeah. Maybe ask another metahuman if they've developed further abilities like that. Ask Sylvia if she's heard of it? She is president of the Institute, after all. She would probably know, if anyone.
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Fine. If you don't think you can trust her with it, then don't talk to ANYONE in Redbright about it. Not directly, at least.
[And he's got a fair idea just how good of a liar you are at this point...]
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There are metahumans in Hillingdon. Most are shifters but I can ask around, see if any of them have ever gained a random ability. If you like.
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Not yet.
Thank you for offering, though!
Although I'm not sure how useful this will be, beyond saving me in clumsy moments.
[ There's a pause, probably long enough for Faolan to have begun writing a reply, then a short video blips through.
It's terribly filmed, Lancelot clearly doesn't FaceTime people or anything because he fumbles his phone a moment before getting it at a good distance to focus and darting his eyes off screen.
A moment later a pencil weaves onto screen unsteadily, floating in front of him. Lancelot lofts an eyebrow and mouths weird before it wobbles again and drops, timed with Lancelot looking slightly surprised and ending the video. ]
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Well. I'll know who to ask if I need office supplies in a pinch.
[Sorry, Lancelot. Someone might be a bit moody.]
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[ Someone doesn't give a shit about your grumpiness. Guess who? ]
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And then, apropos of nothing:]
I think I need to quit.
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[ Bit of sass still, sorry, he's not sure if the topic is serious yet or not. ]
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[Oh, if only this were voice or video...]
Thanks for that.
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It would serve you right if I didn't.
This job. Bodyguarding. Things are...getting too complicated. I won't be able to keep it up much longer.
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Did something happen? Do you need to talk? If not now, can meet you somewhere.
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[He's at Hillingdon House as well, so. Finding some space to himself is surprisingly easy, now that he's in charge and all.]
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A few moments later your phone is ringing.
Lancelot has found a way to comfortably balance the phone while also sitting in a way that the dog can drape over him without making his legs go to sleep. Actually quite tricky since she always seems to want to be near enough on top of him in some way, and he might need to get up at some point. ]
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Hey. Sorry, I didn't mean to spring this on you, I just thought...
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[ He sounds concerned. This is because he is concerned. After all, Lancelot has yet to find out why Faolan might need to get out of his job. He's expecting the worst. ]
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I... What? [Faolan sounds genuinely surprised at that.] No, I'm. I'm fine. I'm at Hillingdon House, I've got. There's a lock on the door, no one's going to be listening in. I'd just. Like to talk this out, if you've got the time.
[He's more than a little worried he's going to be getting in trouble for making this particular judgment call.]
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[ He shifts a little to get more comfortable then, since seemingly he isn't about to have to leap up and get some shoes on. ]
Well, I'm happy to listen if you think I can help.
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[Faolan lets out a sigh, throwing himself back in a chair as he tries to figure out how to explain this -- where to even begin.]
I need a way out of this assignment, before they find out who and what I am. Before they realize I've been planted there the whole time.
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