Players:
Summary: Something goes very wrong at an event at the Botanical Gardens.
Date: 04-16-2010
Log Title They're Alive!
Rating: PG-13
NYC - Botanical Gardens
Covering many acres, the Botanical Gardens have something for almost every season. The large Victorian conservatory features the latest flowers that are on display at the moment. There is an area for children to play and learn about botany. Bird shows, food tasting, and Garden Demonstrations are all offered here.
While the Victorian conservatory is the focus of today's event, much of it wouldn't fit inside. Leaving a host of booths and tents to sprawl out along the pathways of the Gardens. Having stumbled over the event, a certain thin teen-ager decided to come in, and he's glad he did. The place is beautiful! Not that Misha has any goal in mind, but he certainly isn't in a hurry. The booths caught his attention the moment he saw them, and he's been looking things over. Hasn't found anything yet worth buying, but he booth crawls, watching the people, checking out things to be purchased, and on the whole enjoying himself a good deal.
The event is called 'Victoriana Today' and is mostly kitsch and whimsy, the sort of display-and-sale that the bread-and-butter patrons of the Botanical Gardens love to attend and which the managers of the Botanical Gardens find cheap to arrange. Everyone has their own idea of what belongs here, and the vendors brought all of it: plaster gargoyles and French lace fans, sparkly hat pins and wicker lawn furniture, croquet sets and butterflies pinned under glass. Something for everyone!
Corrin is wandering between the booths. Jarvis told him about the show and he's here too, somewhere, but Corrin got caught up in examining an ornate Chinese screen and lost track of him. Oh, well; he'll catch up to him, or not, and… is that a real elephant's foot, made into an umbrella stand?! He moves closer to see and trips over a lion-shaped iron doorstop.
The resulting clatter has Misha suddenly wary. He almost disappears, but barely manages to squash that instinct in looking around. Just some guy having tri… Corrin? Could that have been Corrin? The teen puts down the glitzy display knife he never would have bought anyway without care, and starts angling for a better view of the man. All these people, and the displays.. and it really is Corrin! "Sir!" Said as happily as that ruined voice can get. Need help up and Mikhail gives it. "Is surprise seeing you, but in good way." The talk helped, even if he still hasn't decided on anything. Maybe he's waiting for a talk from the dark side or something.
"Ack! Sorry! Sorry…" Corrin is blushing red, trying to untangle himself from the lion and the other doorstops next to it—boar, pig, howling wolf, badger. The owner of the booth is rolling her eyes and trying to shoo him away; apparently, men tripping over door stops is bad for business for those doorstops. Go figure.
He startles at the rough, familiar voice and then smiles. "Misha! Fancy meeting you here!" He'll accept the hand up. "Sorry… got a bit clumsy there. How are you?" He steps aside as a pair of giggling Goth girls approach the booth, looking at a display of antique charms for bracelets. "You're looking well."
"You are not door." The teen teases as he helps Corrin to his feet. Without doorstops. "I am being well. Still thinking, but they said no rush in answer." Mikhail asked about it and well, SHIELD is patient enough to wait. They already have him in their clutches so to speak. The goth girls are given a look, for he certainly appreciates a pretty girl, but the teen's main attention is on Corrin. "In mean time I do schooling, gain weight, and learn what they are willing to train. Is good." And his English is improving too. Little bit here and there as the weeks slip by. "You? Beyond obvious."
"Well, I'm discovering that cast iron lions are as bloodthirsty as the real variety," Corrin says, checking his ankle. There's a long red scratch across the outside edge of the ankle bone; he's not wearing socks. It isn't serious, just annoying. "It's good to hear that your school is going well," he says. "Can I ask what subjects you like best?" Since he knows the school itself is not a public one.
One of the Goth girls has found a spin rack of old necklaces, and she's picking out the ones she likes and showing her friend each one; the friend is still mostly interested in the charms. The booth owner is trying to simper at them and glare at Corrin; the result is a bit comical, given that Corrin isn't paying her any attention. Corrin says, "I'm assuming book subjects and PE, but that covers a lot of ground."
Misha never expects the girls to look his way. They almost never do. Too plain, obvious scars.. what's to look at. Doesn't mean he can't admire a little though, but he too is soon ignoring the booth owner completely. There's a Corrin to talk to. "Bench?" Since that ankle appears actually injured, if only to a minor degree, he points to a place to sit. "What had your attention so much?" A grin about the lions being bloodthirsty.
As for school, he shrugs. "Most." Yeah, he likes learning. "Literature not fun. English not being good enough yet. Otherwise, am liking all else. Am not having PE, but do have combat trainer. Which is being fun. Bruises take days to fade." Grins a bit for that, but Misha still loves it. "Mostly doing computer study. Helping new friend."
Corrin laughs. "So you like bruises, do you? Then I suggest buying one of those doorstops. They'll give you a few!" He heads for the bench, not because he needs to sit down, but because sitting and chatting is better than standing in the middle of the walkway and having people bump into him—and you.
And the Goth girls. Two boys come elbowing their way through the crowd and one bangs into the girl looking at the necklaces. "Oh, hey, Trina! Sorry!" In that careless teenaged way.
Trina stumbled into the table. The other girl had set aside one of those polished round marble paperweights, the kind that look like crystal balls; it rolls off the table. The owner yelps and makes a grab for it and misses, and SMASH! It shatters on the lion. Corrin startles badly at the sound, twisting to see what's happened.
"Oh, I am already paying for bruises. Am not needing stealthy doorstop for more." Misha says as he accompanies Corrin to the bench, and for the same reasons. Getting out of the way. Not sitting, he none the less has the same distraction as the man, in way of that smash. Already a bit too paranoid for his own good, the teen looks sharply over at the sound. What's going on, and does he need to disappear to protect himself? "That Lion is being bad news." Same lion that drew blood. Can't be good! Not that he saw what broke, but that's the same booth, and it looks like tripping people.
The marble ball pulverized on the lion; there's a faint white cloud of marble powder drifting over the doorstops. The teenagers are yelling at each other, accusing each other, and the owner of the booth is, too—the confrontation is noisy and is drawing the attention of other people in the show. There's a security guard trying to get there; he's not making good headway around the lookie-loos.
Then one of the girls shrieks. "Something bit me!"
Something bit? Mikhail gives Corrin a strange look and then vanishes. Sorry about the lack of warning, but he wants to get a closer look and this is the only easy way. The teen moves forward, through the on lookers, so that he can see what biting is really going on. Hopefully the girl only backed into something and imagined it.
Misha is clearly an optimist; even as he vanishes, another of the teens yelps, "Me, too!" and the others push away from the booth, trying to get out of biting range. They're not too successfulthere are too many rubberneckers pressing in trying to find out what all the ruckus is about. One of these people is Corrin; he steps to the edge of the empty space around the bench and starts pulling people out of the crowd. "Give them room," he says, just a little louder than the crowd, and in a 'I have authority' voice. "Please move back. Everyone, move back." Pull, turn, push. Pull, turn, push. He's close enough that he only has to move three people to get to one of the original teensone of the boys, who is conveniently trying to back up anyway. "What's going on, son?" Corrin says, and the kid looks at him, clearly baffled.
"Them!" The kid points down. "They're alive!" And one of the doorstopsthis one looks like a bulldogmarches out from under the table to snort at the people crowded around it. "They're alive!"
Wow! Shocked, uncertain, Misha can only stare at those little moving statues. That's so weird! He murmurs to himself in Polish about that.. And then Corrin is working through the crowd to get closer. His problem is that there isn't a lot of room here. He can't shift back amid all these people. As space clears, the teen takes a risk. Only if people clear enough will he shift back, and when he does he tries to touch those little statues. If he can touch them, maybe he can shift them to the other side. Of course they will only remain there if they aren't alive, and he's never experienced anything like this before, so Misha simply doesn't know if it will work.
For all intents and purposes, however, the statues *are* alive… at least, for the moment. So when Misha grabs the lion, which is trying to claw one of the Goth girls in the ankle, and drags it to the pocket universe, it goes. But when he releases it, it comes back to the real universe, and its temper isn't improved by the trip. It roarsa rather tinny sound, but definitely a roarand it tries to attack Misha. Both paws! Claws! RAAAR!
The doorstops are only about 6 inches high, and they weigh around 12 pounds each; this means that they are dangerous to feet and ankles, mostly. Hope no one falls down to their level, however…
Misha isn't happy when the lion drops right back into the real world. He's even less happy when it attacks him. Grabbing up a handy bulldog, which of course tries to bite him, the teen shoves one door stop into another as hard as he can. Careful of his fingers. Really should disappear, but he doesn't want to leave Corrin alone here, and there are too many people around. This is the only spot he's got. "They be alive!" Yes, he's disturbed.
"Then we'd best get them someplace where they won't hurt people," Corrin says. He isn't as disturbed by the living doorstops as Misha is, although he isn't happy with them; he is more concerned with the fact that they're hostile. He'll freak out later. "Ladies, gentlemen! Please move back!" And to Misha, "I wonder if you can find a box…" A six-inch-high bull butts him in the ankle. "Ow! Or maybe a cage!"
Wielding a squirming metal bulldog isn't easy, but Misha does at least have a little experience in dealing with improvised weaponry. That doesn't mean he's comfortable with it. Lion will be back in moments, and he hits a little dragon on it's crudely scaled covered head. "..Should I be cutting them?" Maaan.. why does he always seem to need to be using that power lately. Can't shield against these things, as they would simply reappear back where they started. "Ah!" Okay, that hurt. He's crouching down, so something gets his knee. Smack with bulldog! Hey, he needs that finger! Stupid dog.
The owner of the booth is shrieking. "You! You did this!" To one of the Goth girls. "You heathen! You monster! You mutant! You have destroyed my merchandise and are a menace to society! Help! Police!"
This outburst gets a jaundiced look from Corrin, but he's too busy trying to round up miniature iron beasties to reply to the woman. A glowing golden sword appears in his right hand and he stabs it down in front of the bull before it gets another run on his ankle. It clanks as it hits the sword, then shakes its head and paws the ground. "Box?" he says. "Crate? Anyone?"
No one is listening, and no one seems to be looking either. Misha's hands take on a distortion, like a heat wave on the air, and with that he begins cutting small creatures up. The bulldog goes to pieces in his hands. He is really hoping it doesn't have blood, for that's going to be incredibly messy. Hoping doesn't mean he's going to do more than pause though. Does cutting it into four pieces stop it?
Cutting the bulldog into four pieces does a number of things. First, the thing lets out a shriek of pain. Then it falls into four, unliving pieces, clankthunkclunkthud. Then the booth owner shrieks and screams at Misha, "My property! You are destroying my property! You vandal!" She picks up a rattan walking stick and wales it in Misha's general direction. The table is still between them, so she's not going to be a good aim.
Corrin shoves the bull sideways with his foot, tangling it with the lion, which is still trying to attack Misha's feet. "Interesting trick," he tells him, re: the cutting of the bulldog. He dances sideways as both lion and bull go after him. "Effective, too." The glowing sword sweeps through the air and smacks the dragon back to earth. "Want to try again?"
An angry look at the booth owner, and the teen shoves that table at her. Harm. "You did this." A few nasty words in Polish follow, and there's no real need for translation there. Corrin addresses him and Misha isn't happy at all. "Teleport away ties that keep together." And with that he begins cutting what he can. The lion that's trying to get at him, and the dragon that's struggling against sword. "You fend off scary lady." He can deal with these.
Corrin does a double-take on Misha—how come he has to deal with the scary lady? Then again, Misha is looking like he wants to shove one of the doorstops down scary lady's throat, so maybe it's for the best. "Ma'am, please stand back. These things are dangerous and they need to be dealt with. And if you don't want them cut into pieces, GET A BOX TO PUT THEM IN." He doesn't raise his voice, but it gets very intense; the booth owner stops mid-tirade and just gulps.
Corrin's glare at her would be more effective if part of the dragon didn't just fall on his foot. "Ow! Misha!" He hops on one foot and that's when the bull goes after him again. "OW!" And he goes down. Not good…
"Then be moving faster." The teen grumbles as he catches up the Bull and sends it screaming into pieces. That is disturbing. Misha feels like he's killing rabbits. Never a comfortable sound for a child. Sliding a foot forward he tucks a shoe beneath a toad and lobs it into the air. Motions of hands and the frog too drops to pieces. Never once does anyone else get hurt. Especially since he's keeping his cutting whips at very close range. Mikhail himself is a bit bloodied though. One hand, and a knee. "Grace itself, you are." Poor Corrin..
Corrin is far too polite to call Misha the word he wants to call him. He curls up to protect his face from the attack of an iron boar. A rabbit smacks him in the knee with a kick and he hisses in pain. "Could use some help here!" He flashes gold as his field comes up; another kick from the rabbit actually sends him spinning.
Someone was listening to him, though. The second teenaged boy reappears, wielding a plastic milk crate. "Will this do?" he asks, and without waiting for a reply, plants it on top of the rabbit. Then he sits on the crate, long legs crossed, as the boar changes targets and tries for him. "Hey, they're pretty strong!" The crate is going CLUNK! CLUNK! CLUNK! as the rabbit tries to get out.
"Good!" Even if Corrin can't answer, Misha approves of the milk crate. Tossing remnants of a cat aside, he hops over a couple of animals as he tries to reach the glowing man. His lower legs are going to be black and blue tomorrow, that's for sure, but he grabs for what animals he can reach. If he touches, the drop in two pieces. Not always cut in half, but a portion here, a head there.. whatever he can get. Misha doesn't want to hurt Corrin after all. The Iron Boar goes first. "Get up." Obvious, but he will buy Corrin what time he needs, even motioning a hand so that the distortion slides out several feet to hit a chicken and cut it. The distortion isn't easy to see in the chaos.
The field is shrinking fast. The doorstopsall twelve of themhave nothing effective to use against Misha, while Misha is extremely effective against them. Corrin uses the respite in attacks to stand up again, scooping up a badger in one hand and a stag in the other, holding them out to his sides as they wriggle, trying to get away or bite him, whichever comes first. "This is weight training of an uncomfortable stripe," he murmurs, and then one of the Goth girls comes to the rescue, trapping the badger in a string shopping bag. It is hopelessly tangled moments later. "Thanks!" he says, because now he can deal with the stag with both hands. "Um, miss? Do you know what happened here?"
Oh, they are effective enough. He's bleeding and very sore. Does that count? Misha wasn't remotely safe from them, he's just better at taking them out then they are him. "Were any of them getting away?" Didn't know how many of them there were to start, so his count could be off. Since none are attacking him right this moment, the teen looks around, and eyes that crate. After a moment he offers to take the stag from Corrin. Doesn't destroy it though. "How could this be made alive?" This is so weird!
Corrin gives over the stag willingly enough. "Watch the hooves," he remarks, and he turns in a circle. "I think so. I don't see any…"
The booth owner screams and falls over, and Corrin doesn't finish his sentence. He dives over the table and disappears behind it; there are sounds of a brief struggle. "Got it!"
What appears above the edge of the table is Corrin's hands, holding the struggling shape of an iron mouse. "Ma'am? Ma'am! Is this all of them?"
Shifting his hold so that he's horns in one hand, and back hooves in the other, Misha manages not to get too hurt while holding on. "..Corrin?" That at the sounds of struggle. "Are you.." Alright? He trails off thanks to the man's reappearance with a mouse. "I am sure hoping." A growl in his awful voice as he finds himself looking at the Goth girl near him. Yeah, she sure is pretty. Sigh. Then he kind of realizes that he's being stared at by the whole group. Um.. The teen can't help it and he blushes. All those people saw him. Damn it.
The Goth girl is looking at him, but she doesn't look like she minds; she smiles at Misha when he looks at her. "What should I do with this?" she asks, bouncing the badger in the string bag. It grunts and grumbles at her, but it is caught fast; it's going nowhere.
Corrin clambers back to his feet, bracing his elbows on the table, since he doesn't dare release his hold on the iron mouse. "Ma'am?" To the booth owner again. "I think we have four. I'm counting eight in pieces. Are there more?" Which gets no coherent reply; the woman just bursts into tears.
The security guard shoves his way to the front of the crowd at last, and he looks at the carnage of carved metal bits and the peope standing around with wiggling metal critters. "What's going on here?!"
It takes everything Misha has not to vanish at that smile. And yes, his cheeks are still rather red. Looks grumpy over it too. "That is being her to tell." Her being the crying shop keeper. The young man nods to her since his own hands are quite full. Grimaces on occasion as his hurt hand is rehurt. There's a bit of a slump of shoulder for the woman's crying though. Geez, perfect timing. And speaking of perfect, Mikhail turns and thrusts a squirming stag in the man's face. "No clue. Want? It hurts." Heavy accent, rough voice, but even in spite of his blush, he grins at the guard.
The security guard is no fool; he backs upfastfrom the offered stag. "No!" Hands waving. "No, I do not want that thing! I want to know what the heck is going on here, and who is responsible!"
Responsible. Not a good word to use in the presence of a woman like the booth owner… "Her!" A shriek and a finger pointed at the Goth girl with the string bag and badger. "And him!" That finger points at Misha. "And him!" At Corrin, this time. She looks at the boy perched on the milk crateCRUMP! from the rabbit insidebut he wasn't breakin
…but he wasn't breaking anything, so she just scowls at him when he waves at her. "They're all vandals! They made my doorstops come alive and then they killed them! It was horrible! They screamed!"
Which gets the guard looking sceptical, and he turns to Corrinnope, too scruffy. To the girlnope, too Goth. And to Misha—who would be too weird, but he's the only one left, so, "You explain it!"
"Me?!" Protests that awful voice. Misha's no longer smiling, and scowls at the booth lady even as the staff struggles in his hands. "I was not seeing anything. I hear crash, then screams, and came to help stop screaming. Found these.." The stag is presented to the guard. "They came from her." Her being the owner of course. "I was not being near booth when started. Over there, at bench." A nod to where they were. "Not being my fault, unless stopping them from hurting is my fault. That I take credit for." So there, evil booth lady.
Corrin puts in his two cents. "I was with him; I corroborate his story. There was a crash, and a cloud of dust, and then these… things." The mouse is proffered to the guard; it hisses at the man. "I think one of the girls mentioned being bit, so we tried to help."
"That was me!" claims the girl with the badger. She shakes the bag at the guard. "Honestly, we didn't do anything! There was this rock on the table, and Joey ran into me, and the rock fell, and that might be what broke. But then these things showed up!" Another shake of the bag; that poor badger is getting dizzy… if iron badgers can be dizzy. "And they were both helping," meaning Misha and Corrin. "And she wasn't!" It seems she has the same opinion of the booth lady that Misha does.
Misha nods agreement to the goth girl. "Lady was screaming and saying was all our fault. She did nothing to be helping." Sorry, English is regressing a little in his excitement to tell. He stops himself to curb that. Last time he lost his temper he kicked someone he shouldn't. Doesn't want a repeat. "We are not knowing what caused this, only that tiny animals came to life and were biting." Shows off that bloodied hand of his as proof. "You take? This hurts." The stag is yet again offered to the poor guard.
CRUNCH! Joey, on top of the milk crate, looks down as a rabbit's foot makes a hole in the crate he's sitting on. "We are knowing that they're stubborn things," he says, in unconscious imitation of Misha's way of speaking. "I mean, we know they're stubborn. Enough to kick their way out of captivity, anyway." He points to the hole. "Can we please find something to put them in? Like a cave or something? I'm getting kinda nervous sitting here… mine could escape."
"The string bags?" Corrin offers, and the other Goth girl yelps and rushes off, coming back a few moments later with a handful of them. Stag in one, mouse in another, and rabbit pounced on and in a third. Someone offers a pole, and all four are hung on it, struggling, for people to gawk over.
"Well," says Corrin, rubbing the back of his head. "Now what?"
Misha is very happy indeed to drop the stag into a bag. He gets himself out of the way as the others are bagged as well, and strung up on a pole. Bloodied fingers are flexed and he inspects the wounds. Minor to be sure, but they still hurt. "We are leaving her to deal." The booth lady wanted her figures, so she can have them. "Can we go?" He hurts, and he really wants to clean up. Does look to the Goth girl again though, but his glance doesn't linger. "Show is much ruined for me now." Takes a pointed limp away from the gathering.
"Hey! You need to stay to write a report on this!" The guard chases Misha, because he's a *security guard*. He doesn't do wierd. That's what people with powers are for. "You gotta wait for the police!"
Corrin gives the guard a sideways stare. "We just gave you the report. And we caught the … whatever-they-ares, and they're there." To the booth owner, he says, "Sorry about the other ones, but they were dangerous; you should be more careful with your things." Because ultimately, he feels that she's responsible for all of these events.
Chased after, Misha stops and glares at the security guard. "What he said." Corrin he means. They gave a report. And as Corrin comes to his rescue, the teen reaches out. If he can get a hold of Corrin he attempts to shift them both. Some people are just damn near impossible to move. Hopefully Corrin isn't one of those. If it works the world shifts, becoming a somewhat hazy hologram. Only Misha looks real now. Everything else slightly faded. "Sorry. Easier this way. I could be putting back?" If you really want..
Corrin had wandered close to the guard and Misha, to give Misha support; he's well within grabbing range, and he vanishes with him just fine. "Wha…?!" He does startle; he finds the sudden warping of the scenery to be unnerving. In the faded landscape of the real world, the security guard is going mildly nuts, trying to figure out where the two of them just went. "Um. Er? Are we invisible?" Because after the first disconnect, he realizes that this might be where Misha is when he disappears. This is reassuring, because it means that Misha is real, even when he can't be seen. He doesn't tell Misha this; the kid would think he was crazy, and, well. He doesn't tell Misha that.
Invisible? "No. We are in another dimension. Is better than being invisible. No stumbling into us. Keep hold." A grip to your arm. "We stop touching, and you go back. Come, let us leave." Misha shifts to hold hands, for that is far easier in walking, and tugs so that he can lead the way. And Misha can very easily be seen if you both are on this side. One can even see one self without trouble. Right now Corrin and Misha are the only things that aren't faded and slightly blurry.
And with that he walks away, even through booths and walls, for they have no substance here. Merely block view. "Ground is same in real world, so mind feet." Don't trip, it could be bad. Mutters to himself in Polish too. Stupid day. Showing his powers. Grumble.
Corrin tags along willingly enough, though the first wall you walk through gets him squawking, and he startles at things like shadow-people walking through him and shadow-cars going through Misha. "This is… strange," he says, trying very hard not to grit his teeth and sound angry or scared. He's both, of course; scared, because blurry or not, those things look real enough to *him*, and angry, because he's scared and he can't control that. —Not a good day for Corrin, either. He doesn't mind the showing of his powers as much as the messing with his perceptions. Priorities, you know!
A pause for the squawk, and the hand over Corrin's grips tighter. No letting go! That'd mean a dead Corrin. "Sorry." Misha apologizes easily. "I forget others not used to this as me. Nothing solid here. Nothing is being to …Nothing to fear. Sorry." Look, slightly better grammar. Be amazed. "I teleport to here. Is pocket dimension I am thinking. Close to real world for all this, yet nothing is more than seeing." Uses his free hand to motion through someone walking by. They don't bat an eye. "Can you continue?"
Corrin is wearing a troubled look. Waving a hand through that person *should* have made that person bat an eye. At least. "I can," he says, "but it is all very strange. I…" And this is a big thing that he's admitting, "I don't do well with strange." Except, you know, that he glows and does other strange things himself. Details. "Continue. Where are we going?" Because if he knows where the end of this is, it will make the going that much easier to bear.
"I am here." Misha assures, giving Corrin a smile. Grips that hand again too. Doesn't matter that the man glows, this is strange for even glowing people. "Just out of building, then I put us back. Promise it not being long." And since Corrin is clearly having trouble, the teen tugs him into motion again. "I still must be walking where I go. The long way. We walk.. down stairs and to sidewalk, yes?" Asked at the top of the stairs, which are soon walked down.
During a safe moment, he drops the two back in the real world. Someone gasps, but Misha ignores that. "See? Back now." Lets go of that hand too. "Are you alright, Corrin?"
"Yes." No, he's not all right. Corrin is feeling his grip on reality slide, like he's trying to hold onto sand. What is real, when a wall can be walked through? What is not real, when a person can walk through the wall? Is unreality the wall or the person? Or both? Or…
He shakes his head and walks over to the nearest wall. Touch… solid? Yes… it feels solid. Tap… still solid? Yes, still solid. Punch… "Aaagh!" He shakes his hand, because that HURT. Mind, his world isn't sliding away on him any more; it has crystalized around the pain in his hand.
Misha follows the man, looking worried. Especially as that punch happens. "…Corrin?" Just what are you doing? The teen watches and he makes some connections here. Could be wrong, but he's so very familiar with living with mental illness. Some of the signs are here. "Corrin." Quieter this time, not sounding as worried. If allowed he puts a hand on the man's shoulder. "It is all solid. I can promise that." Not sure what else to say, for he has no way to help.
Corrin leans against the wall he just punched and nods. He blinks as Misha touches him. What…? Oh, worry. "Yeah. Thanks." His hand hurts. "Sorry. I… sorry." He's not sure he can explain why he did that… why he had to do that. Why nothing else would help. "I'm okay now. I hurt," he raises the abused hand and shrugs ruefully, "but I'm okay. Sorry." He flexes his fingers; they all work. His hand is going to be all shades of purple and blue tomorrow, though.
"No need to explain." The teen assures, for he's pretty sure Corrin won't know why. Misha's aunt had some issues like that. Then again she was very ill towards the end. "No need to be sorry. Is there something I can be doing to help?" That's what matters. "Maybe you should be going home?" Where things are familiar and solid. That always seemed to help.
He's being metaphorically patted on the head. Corrin winces, but really, what else can he expect? "Yeah, I should go. It's too bad about the show… I was having fun until the critters started coming to life." And that was an unnerving bit of wierd all in itself. "What happened there?" He pushes off the wall and stands, rubbing his hand, thinking. "Should we tell someone? The Avengers? SHIELD? The Fantastic Four…?"
What else can Misha give at this moment without making Corrin start running for the hills? A touchy subject that the teen simply doesn't know Corrin well enough to be able to handle it. "Should we tell anyone? Is it being important?" He asks with a shrug. "Tell Avengers maybe? Was small. Maybe not be big later. I hope." A sigh and he spreads his hands helplessly. "Need help, Corrin?"
Corrin fixes his gaze on Misha. "Yes, we should tell someone. We stopped this, but we didn't deal with it. Those doorstop things… some of them are still alive, and if they get out of the string bags, they can go back to being pests, or worse. And we don't know why they came alive; I looked at the lion when I tripped over it, and it wasn't alive at that point. So something happened, and what if it happens again, to, say, the lions outside the library? A doorstop is a nuisance, but one of those…" He shakes his head.
There's a frown for that, but it really isn't about telling anyone. It's more for how agitated Corrin is becoming. "..Corrin, then tell Avengers. You are with them." Misha totally doesn't mean to argue here. "Maybe they are knowing someone who would be knowing. I am not." This is a weirdness beyond his ken. Not something he wants to play with often. "Should I call you cab?" Otherwise he may just try and walk the man home.
He's making it worse, isn't he. Corrin scrubs his good hand down his face. "I came with Jarvis; I should see if I can find him. He'll know who to talk to. Misha, I work for Jarvis, who works for the Avengers. I'm not with them. I don't know that much about them. I just feel that this… incident… isn't finished, until those things are dealt with and we know why it happened. Capische? People just got hurt and I don't want the hurt spreading." He looks around. Phone… he can phone Jarvis. He knows the number.
Oh yeah, worse. Misha might be able to help with finding Jarvis though. "Does he have phone?" This is a teen-ager. Of course he thinks everyone has a cell phone. His is offered to Corrin. "I do understand, Corrin. I am not understanding your worry over it. No, that is not right." Damn weird language! "You are much stressed. To point you hurt hand. Weird animals? But worth hitting wall? I have no better person to tell either. Tell this Jarvis. As long as someone knows, yes?" Phone, Corrin?
Phone! Corrin accepts it and starts punching in the number for Jarvis' phone. "Didn't hit the wall over the animals," he says absent-mindedly. He pushes send and listens, and when Jarvis picks up, gives a quick, rapid-fire report on what happened, and a somewhat more plaintive, "Who should know?" Then he listens as Jarvis talks, and you can see the tautness in his shoulders relax. Yes, Jarvis knows who to speak to. "Nothing major," he says in reply to a question. His hurt hand flexes. And, "Yes, thank you. I'd like that." The call ends, and he offers the phone back to Misha. "Done. It'll be dealt with."
Accepting the phone back, the teen smiles. See, that wasn't so hard, was it? And no, Misha pointedly doesn't ask what it was about. He thinks he already knows. "I am going now. Was good seeing you, sir, even if animals were weird." Wants to clean up and find some bandaids. (He's proud of himself. Didn't draw his gun once!) Not waiting for a good-bye, Mikhail does his disappearing trick. Tucks phone back in pocket and leaves Corrin to sort things out.
