“How true and where I am from, they call us metahumans. No offense, but I prefer our term a lot more now.” She responds with a smirk before focusing all of her attention onto what the man was doing. Her eyes light up slightly as she watches him manipulate the metal. “Impressive. I can see where that could come in handy.” Once it was her turn she smirks again as she sits her glass down before taking a step closer to him and in a smooth tone says. “I have many talents. Not all of them are, perfected just yet but..” She lightly rests a hand on his chest and continues to say. “What do you say we go somewhere a little less public and I’ll show you? Wouldn’t want to have an accident with so many people around, right?”
..
he’s never hesitated to refer to himself as a mutant, despite the negative connotations people like senator kelly liked to throw behind the word. there’ is, however, a stark contrast between it and metahuman. mutant suggests they’re anything but human, despite being the next evolutionary step; yet another way they were divided from the others. yet metahuman feels to much like trying to fit yourself into a box you were always meant to outgrow. “ it’s served me well. ” he responds, head tilting slightly when her hand rests against his chest. while he’s not insinuating her motives are anything but innocuous, he’s quick to remove her hand with a chuckle. “ oh i don’t know about that... fallout is sometimes inevitable... and it would be in poor form to leave without my date. ”
taking a full proper look at her given company, lorna realized she may have disturbed the guy who was just aiming to grab a drink and be on his merry way. receiving a respond had been a nice little surprise, it was something appreciated especially given she had little in ways of experience in how to navigate these types of parties. for all her plaster to look like she belonged lorna didn’t have the faintest clue how to act like it. she was trying to learn quick and take note of those nonplussed with the party.
decadence wasn’t a word lorna had heard since her days in school, her typical company wasn’t so articulate. though… her typical company had been beginning to slowly shift as of late. people like daisy, tommy and ronnie becoming apart of her orbit. it was a nice change. “i don’t know what i’d been expecting with a host called lucifer.” she mused. “i take it you’re used to parties like this?” it wasn’t said as an insult, but rather lorna looked at the man and he seemed simply so… how did she describe it? well-read. like he belonged in this world of elegance. it was a look she’d been attempting to fake all night to varied results.
..
he’s never met this lucifer, supposed owner of the club, but he knows that names only carry weight when you live up to them. erik is relatively nondescript, could fade within a crowd, but magneto draws attention wherever he goes. he makes himself a spectacle to keep people tuned in, to make them listen, and its effective. everyone knows erik lehnsherr is magneto but when he’s done something to anger the masses, or they’re reporting on him, it’s always MAGNETO they single out. ( all this to say, names are important; if you were going to have a club this luxurious - pun intended - you needed an alias to match. game recognizes game. )
the idea that he belongs somewhere like this, rubbing elbows and sipping champagne with high society, draws a laugh. the boy from poland, family torn apart by hatred and branded an undesirable at the height of the nazi regime’s rise to power, could have never imagined he’d set foot in such a place. “ hardly. ” he remarks, pausing to take another drink before continuing. “ where i’m from, the world’s elite would have preferred to see me dead than sat at their table like an equal. ” he smirks, nostrils flaring slightly; the only indication that he’s irked by the thoughts. “ but i’ve always been particularly good at making myself at home where i’m most unwelcome. ”
Logan wasn’t exactly in the best mood already and seeing Erik didn’t do anything to improve that. He remains silent giving the other a deep glare of hate and distrust. Tilting his head to the right ever-so-slightly in a slanted nod when Erik refers to him as a survivor. Whether he wanted to be or not, Logan certainly couldn’t disagree with him on that point. Upon seeing the henchmen move Logan shifts his weight from the heals to the balls of his feet while emitting a low growl in a warning. His attention is drawn back to Erik as he waived the other two off. “Thats right, listen to daddy.” He mocks the other two in a deeply grumpy tone. A scoffed chuckle escapes past Logan’s lips at the other’s next words. “Friend my ass. Just cause Charles is too damn soft to give up on ya doesn’t mean I’ll ever fall for your shit. Ya always want somethin and I’m never joining your lil Neverland gang here so you can forget that shit.” The mutant goes back to evaluating the situation in silence for a few more minutes until he answers the other’s last question. “Nothin from you Bub.” Though a ghost of a smirk does display on his face when he comes to a realization. “You’re the 70′s version aren’t ya? The Dipshit that tossed me in that fuckin lake.”
..
logan’s nothing if not consistent. he’s just as brash, as volatile, as he was all those years earlier. how future versions of himself and charles could have ever believed this was the guy to unite them to save the world was beyond him. they might have come together, might have even prevented the destruction of their kind, but he’d say it was in spite of logan’s assistance not a due result of. but then again, as the man so aptly puts it, he did toss him in a fucking lake. his lips twist, mirth painting his features as he shrugs his shoulders. “ guilty... but in my defense, you were standing between me and the fate of our entire race. it was a necessary evil. ” he’d know; he’s the king of necessary evils, of reacting with extreme force to ensure the protection of their kind. even when its hard. even when it breaks his heart. ( they may always play on similar sides, with a goal in mind, but it’s always him that has to play the part of the red queen and take the board by any means necessary. ) “ and clearly you’ve managed to persevere... though a bit grey around the edges. ” his gaze is inquisitive as he looks him over, making some deductions of his own. “ clearly you haven’t been plucked out of the seventies. ”
he’d have argued with himself over such H E E D L E S S choices: the scientist within would’ve stirred up a storm no matter the volatile consequences but silence had fallen WITHOUT struggle —- some battles lost didn’t NECESSARILY mean you weren’t victorious ( that selfish choice wasn’t so bad in the grand scheme of every footprint he had or could place on the earth…or he’d become so insufferably bias it was easier to settle with the consequence ). HE HAD GIVEN UP…for once in the name of restoring hope rather than pushing it away. no journey required more than which he still had his struggles within; the soothing nature of not having to worry so much about the smaller details becomes nothing more than a harrowing realisation —- that much he is aware of.
it’s become habit to fall into position. to be placed on the board waiting for checkmate even if such earnest moves gave him no forewarning in the process ( he’d place it down to fear: to not wanting to think too deeply and yet events harbour nothing but the fuel to make him do so ). if he’s distracted momentarily it’s only because he felt the need to adjust himself, disguised in the safety precaution of checking his wheel hadn’t gotten caught on any of the metal framing: it’s to avoid eye contact until a smile seems to be the RELIEF he required —- to breathe once more was nice. “ oh.. ” his tone is soft at least, measured in a brain working hard to try and read another without actually doing so. “ it’s rather…avant-garde, as far as celebrating the end of a body swap but the carbonara looks delightful. ” roughly translated to this didn’t have to be so fancy, I would’ve been happy just spending time with you BUT alas words didn’t always pan out the way he wanted them to. “ the separation of consciousness from the outer shell is rather interesting subject matter but I, uh —- like you just the way you are, ” he nods in a brief instant. “ so hopefully no more body swapping. ”
..
maybe it is a little unusual to celebrate being restored to his rightful self but he’d felt the need. or rather, it had been a justifiable excuse to make peace with some of his revelations of late. he’s always trusted his intuition, his conviction when faced with challenges and decisions, but he’s been reserved as of late. you can attribute it to acclimating in a time, or making peace with his demons, but whatever you want to call it... it’s been a distraction. a way of avoiding things he knows to be true; or rather, avoiding acknowledging what they mean.
“ i’ve always done a lot when a little would have been sufficient. ” he answers, lips turning upwards. he knows he’s dramatic, tends to make mountains out of mole-hills, but so many things in their history have been disastrous. for once, he wanted things to be right. tonight, he thinks they are... or at least, they’re on the path towards right. “ ...and it’s been too long since we did this. ” poor decisions on both of their parts, or differing opinions in the wake of a war, always had them separated by a chasm. for the first time since charles dragged him out of the water that day all those years ago, it feels like they’re on the same page. “ i’ve never given much thought to the separation between body and spirit... not until i had to. ” he chuckles, taking his seat and reaching for the wine to pour them both glasses. “ it was a very... enlightening experience. ” eye-opening, would be more accurate, bringing awareness to certain desires he hasn’t voiced aloud just yet, but the night is young... they’ll get there.
since arriving in new york violet’s life had changed drastically in a matter of weeks. she went from being homeless and hiding from the police for over two years to having a safe place to live and a job. to most it wouldn’t seem like much but after everything she’d been through just those two simple things meant the world to her. it was also the first time since her parents had died that she felt accepted, being around other mutants had drastically improved her mood… it made her feel a bit more confident. she wanted to say thank you to whoever was in charge, so after asking around she’d been pointed in erik’s direction. hesitatnly she knocked on the door. “uh… mr. eric? i’m sorry they didn’t tell me your last name… i was wondering if i could talk with you for a moment, if you’re not busy.”
..
though the registration act might not have passed, there’s no denying that the government — and the media — still aim to spread fear and create division between mutants and their less evolved counterparts. he’d seen the stories on the news, how they’d focused on the girl’s abilities, painted her as a monster, to push their narrative; that all mutants, no matter how innocuous they seemed, were bombs waiting to go off. he’d been livid then, requesting some of the brotherhood members go track her down and ensure her safety, but he’s nothing but the picture of calm today when she wanders into his office. “ magneto. ” he answers, turning in his chair so that he can face her properly. “ you can call me magneto. ” he twitches two fingers, pulling out a metal chair in invitation for her to sit. “ now is as good a time as any. ”
location: lux nightclub
mentions: ft. charles xavier, tommy shepherd, magda gurzsky, & nina gurzsky.
triggers: canon character death, survivor’s guilt, violent themes.
summary: erik receives an unexpected gift from the ghosts of his past: closure.
he’s not one of the first people to have an encounter with the ghosts. no, his is long after things descend into chaos, a rip in his jacket the only injury he’s thankfully incurred as he’s putting as much distance between the crowd and himself. he texts charles, needs to make sure that he’s okay, but his finger never quite hits send when he sees a face he never thought he’d see again. his phone stutters in his hand, caught seconds before it might hit the ground by his abilities. if anyone sees... he doesn’t care.
“ papa! ” the voice springs tears to his eyes as his daughter runs to him, her little arms wrapping tightly around his neck as he bends down on instinct. it’s not the same as holding her when she was alive, is oddly reminiscent of the last few moments he had with her, and the barbed wire around his heart clenches a little tighter; like it wants to draw blood, wants to ignite into flames and punish anyone in his vicinity. or maybe it just wants to embrace this feeling, the overwhelming love he has for his child, and forget the reality and the crushing weight of it for a minute. for five minutes. he presses a kiss against the top of her head, lets himself hold her for a minute or an hour, he couldn’t say, before she’s gone. it hurts the same now as it did back then but as painful as it is, he knows its a gift. one he never thought he’d receive.
when he rises to his feet, he sees magda standing there, her eyes are wet with tears, red rimmed as she smiles at him. when he moves towards her, she shakes her head. “ if i don’t touch you... i think we’ll have more time. ” her words ring out in polish, a language he hasn’t heard since he showed up here in the city. “ we’ve never had enough time. ”
he can’t disagree. from the moment they’d met, he’d always wondered how much time they’d have together. at first, he’d been reluctant to form bonds with anyone. he’d tried to replace the anger with something else once, had thought maybe he’d managed it, but of course in the end... it always ended the same way. he’d make the wrong decisions for the right reasons, the others would condemn him, and he’d leave before the governments tried to lock him up. again. with magda however, an ocean away, he’d believed that things could be different; that he could lock erik away, become henry, and live an ordinary life like those that would fear him wished he would. but he wasn’t ordinary; he never had been, and never could be. maybe if he hadn’t hidden away, had been more upfront with their daughter, things could have been different.
( he knows that’s not true. she was a child watching her father being taken away. even if she’d known what she was, it wouldn’t have changed things. he knows better than most. )
“ it’s good to see you. ” he says instead, voice thick with emotion as he swallows past the lump in his throat. “ both of you. i’ve missed you so much. ” the words feel foreign in his mouth, so long since he’s spoken the language from the home they made together, but talking to her feels easy. it always has. “ i want --”
she cuts him off with a shake of her head. she flickers, like she’s not quite sure how to stay visible this way, as her brows flatten in concentration. he knows this look well. “ we’re together. we’re at peace. ” the smile is soft, spreading like the sun rising over the horizon as she approaches. her hand touches the side of his face, cooling his cheek as she adds. “ that’s what we want for you too. peace. ” he opens his mouth but she silences him with a look, words quiet but strong. “ if not for yourself, for us. i’ve seen the good in you... the rest of the world should see it too. ”
somehow he knows their time together is fleeting. he steps forward, presses his lips against her forehead, and gives a singular nod. the weight that constantly drags him down, the block that’s been preventing him from trying to move forward... it budges. just a little, but enough that he believes it’s possible. peace had never been an option; all he’d ever known was vengeance, retribution, the tipping of scales, but he knows he has to try. if not for himself, than for them... and for the people still here. his children, wherever they might be, and his grandson. for the man who has always had a piece of his heart, even when he tried to pretend he didn’t. for the mutants he owes a better life than the ones they suffered.
he says goodbye with closed eyes, makes a promise to try, because he knows that when he opens them she’ll be gone.
There was something daunting about wearing a mask. Or perhaps rather, it was daunting being surrounded by them. Lorna had been technically wearing a mask all her life, not that she was proud of it. Not everyone was, but so many… it wasn’t like she had reason to be scared of people. Not only did she have no enemies (technically) but she was confident in her abilities and prowess (plus being covered in metal right now boosted her feelings of safety as well). She’d never actually been to a party like this before. She was unsure how to engage, or even if she should. Trying to make conversation, she asked. “Do you think all the parties here are this extravagant?”
@thephoenixstart
..
it goes without saying that events like this aren’t his specialty. he’s never had much, had to fight to get everything he’s ever had in this world - to reclaim it from those who would have been happy to take it -- but putting on an act comes naturally to him. all those years chasing shaw, pretending to be whatever he needed to be to get close, had at least given him that.
he’d lost charles in the crowd when he went to get drinks, hands shoved into his pockets as he leans up against the bar and waits. it takes him a moment to realize the woman beside him’s speaking to him but when he does he simply lets his lips twist into a hint of a smile. “ oh, absolutely. there’s no shortage of decadence these days. ”
After spending some time at the bar taking advantage of the free booze and convenient but useless intelligence gathering conversations; Logan spots Magneto across the room. If anyone was keeping tabs on the government it was probably him. While Logan didn’t want to risk the other finding out about Laura and her friends, he needed to know any information Erik had on Rice and the rest of the weapon x team. Without a word he abandons his current conversation and walks around the room. Keeping close to the wall allowed him to come up behind the man and grab the back of his shirt before roughly pulling him over to a more private spot. Once they were as alone as possible Logan pushes him against the wall saying “Alright Asshat, you’re gonna tell me everythin you know ‘bout the governments plans for mutants.” @mcgnto
..
he has very little patience for people on a good day and while the night has had its highlights, events like these don’t file themselves under good. his jaw ticks as logan pushes him up against the wall, using the metal on his person to nudge him back and out of his personal space. “ still as surly as always. some things never change. ” despite the cavalier tone to his words, the questions strike their chord. he hasn’t heard of any movement here, in this time, but he knows there’s a future -- his grandson’s future -- that won’t be immune to its effects.
“ the registration acts here were overturned. as far as i know, there are no current military projects involving our kind. ” though you’d better believe, he’s seeking out anyone and everyone involved with what happened to tommy... even if here, in this time, they haven’t done anything yet. he prefers being proactive over reactive.
Although Lisa didn’t drink, she did manage to find some punch that hadn’t been made interesting yet and put it in a wine glass. “Perception is a fickle thing and no one ever seems to share one completely”. She happily clinks her glass with his before taking a light sip; keeping her classic smile delicately placed upon her lips. “The strongest spirit in the world couldn’t thaw the iceberg in my chest.” She jokes in a smooth tone as she leans against the bar. “Besides, the night is young and I’d like to be conscious for all the fun ahead. Most people here seem to be freaks like me so, someone’s bound to get drunk and show us their tricks.”
..
“ perception, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder. ” he comments in response, tipping his glass forward to toast with hers. at the comment about freaks, his curiosity’s piqued, but he refrains from asking her just what she can do in favor of making a demonstration of his own. “ where i’m from... we call them mutants. the next step in evolution. ” he shifts his fingers from the stem of his champagne flute, using his powers to unhook the metal cuff links from the cuff of his shirt to pull them into his hand. “ now i’ve showed you mine... why don’t you show me yours. ”
“ is it cold in here, or is that just my heart? ” - Lisa Snart
( @goldenlglider )
sipping chilled champagne by the bar, erik can’t help but disagree with her comments. he’s already tugged at his tie to loosen it, a hand swiping through his hair when tendrils started escaping into his eyes. the club’s anything but cold so he’d have to put money down on the latter. “ sounds like an issue with perception. ” he comments, raising his glass to clink with hers. “ i’d suggest drinking more. perhaps you’ll start to thaw. it’s working wonders for me. ”
It hadn’t been easy seeing inhibitor technology on his grandfather’s wrists — even if it wasn’t his body it didn’t sit right with him. Maybe due to the fact it reminded him of a time that would much rather be forgotten. When Humankind placed him in one of their inhibitor collars and thrown into a prison shortly after his Mutant abilities manifested. This was only a few years ago which leaves the memory fresh on mind. The walls of his cell were lined with power-dampening technology but they never took off his collar either. They poked and prodded at him and Tommy never got over it or got justice for what happened to him. How would Erik react to hearing about this? Tommy would have to tell him eventually.
His gaze looks up when his grandfather lands near him. It makes him feel good that at least one of his relatives knew him here. Maybe just one is what he would need for now. The white-haired boy widens his eyes when cookies are offered to him. “For me? Really? How did you know that I was hungry?” Tommy takes them and starts to open them, fingers moving faster than what anyone is probably used to seeing. Only slowing down once it was ripped open and got to take a bite out of one of the cookies. There are amazing. “I grew up without having much either so I can understand what that is like. You do the best what little you have but think it’s cool that your grandfather always made sure to have sweets around when he could. What was your favorite? Also … thank you for these.” Tommy doesn’t extend such kindness to most people but his grandfather is at the top of the list who do get to see his soft side. He takes another bite of the cookie, crumbs falling down his shirt. “I’m glad you’re you again, Grandpa.”
..
he chuckles as tommy’s fingers fly to open the packet of cookies, crumbs flying every which way as he chews. “ you’re welcome. ” he adds, taking a moment to try and recall what his favorites were. “ krówki. ” he decides after careful consideration. “ they were semi-sweet toffee candies. ” unable to help himself, he reaches out to dust some of the crumbs from the front of tommy’s shirt. they’re going to have to work on that.
“ that makes two of us. i’ve lived through adolescence once... i can’t say i have any desire to do it again in someone else’s body. ” no, he might not always like the frown lines etched into his face, or the exhaustion that weighs his shoulders, but he’d take them both over feeling uncontrolled in raven’s body. it isn’t an experience he hopes to repeat. “ power has never been something i’ve struggled with but the girl’s abilities... they’re something i’ve never seen before. ” the instability of them, the precision of which he needed to control them, spoke volumes to the mess of his emotions he’s been shoving down to avoid dealing with. while the rage might wok for him... it HADN’T worked with her abilities. in fact, it had made them worse. “ emotion based. ” his jaw ticks. “ suffice to say, i much prefer being me. ”
Whenever people are in trouble, Sam’s first instinct is to help as best as he can, even if doing that leads to his own life being in danger. Self-sacrifice and martyrdom are no strangers to him, but with this new world he found himself in, he didn’t generally have to do anything like that. Unlike his world, where heroes were apparently a dying species, there were heroes around every corner here, all ready to do everything they could to protect the innocent.
Still, it’s easy to forget the world is full of superpowered people until some kid is throwing everything around him in the middle of the park and freaking out. Sam wants to help, to tell the poor kid that everything’s going to be okay and then make sure it actually was. He has his own powers because of the blood coursing through his veins, but they’re nothing to match against something like this, especially when he’d been trying to cut back. He’s out of his depth, and he feels a little grateful when someone literally flies in to save the day.
He does a double take after seeing the man. “Magneto?!?!?!” He gasps. Out of all the superheroes and supervillains, he’s not sure why seeing Magneto shocks him so much. When Sam used to read comics, a part of him resonated with Magneto. A part of him still does. He guesses now that the kid struggling with their powers is probably a mutant who Magneto is trying to help and/or recruit. “Uh, yeah, ok. Yes, sir.” He nods, finally answering Magneto and stepping back a bit. The politeness probably isn’t even necessary. Magneto probably isn’t even much older than Sam at this point. He was still excited to see just what would happen. “Go ahead, do your thing,” he said giving Magneto a thumbs up.
..
beneath his palms, the ground trembles. the mutant finally stops, breaks their concentration to look at him, and he takes advantage. makeshift cuffs tighten around their arms, pinning them up against the wall until he has a chance to confront them. it should limit the property damage, in the least. they’ll probably be upset about his methods but he likes to think they’re pretty effective.
he turns his head back towards the stranger, lips lifting in amusement at the formality of his tone. he wonders idly if this is the kind of response charles usually elicits when he swoops in to save the day, rather than the screams and fear responses his presence usually receives. “ i didn’t come alone. ” he responds, waving a hand to where two of his fellow brotherhood members are approaching the young mutant. “ they’ll take them somewhere safe while i clean up this mess. ” clean isn’t the right word really, he’s only going to put back anything metal where it previously belonged, but it suits context well enough. “ you might want to stand back. ”
Soft echos of Laura’s voice whispering ‘daddy’ calls his mind back from the void. His eyes snap open as a deep breath fills his lungs, giving the muscles a long overdue stretch. His eyes quickly shift back and forth before a loud grunt emits from his mouth as he gets to his feet. Logan soon came to the realization that he was alive once again and he was confused and angry. Every action and word was dripping with tension and agitation. He began looking himself over the best he could in that moment. Brushing the dirt from the front of his shirt. “What the fuck?” Next noticing just how young his skin looked, particularly his hands. Raising his fists to eye level and taking a moment to stare at them with hate and distrust before extending his claws effortlessly and without the increased pain. A subtle creek in the floor board behind him alerted his attention to the presence of another person. Logan growls loudly as he faced the other, claws ready for the attack. “Who the fuck are you and what do you want?!”
..
he might be displaced from his previous timeline but he still recognizes some familiar faces. mind you, the last time he remembers seeing logan he was riddling him with rebar and launching him into the ocean, but clearly he’d found his way out of the watery grave. “ looks like you’re a survivor after all. ” he observes. the two mutants by his side move, anticipating a fight, but he waves his hand to stop them. he has no intentions on fighting the wolverine, not today. “ i’m a friend of an old friend. ” his words are targeted, vague enough to suss out just how much - or how little - logan remembers of his past. “ as for what i want, i don’t want anything. ” not presently, anyway, though that’s always poised to change. the relationship between humans and mutants has always been contemptuous. they might be accepted today, mending fences instead of breaking bonds, but he’s always poised for the tipping point because it A L W A Y S comes. and when it doesn’t, it wouldn’t hurt to have the wolverine on his their side. “ what do you want ? ”
one of the mutants staying at the brotherhood compound is the one that tips him off about the powered individual wreaking havoc in central park. someone young, inexperienced with their powers, and making a colossal spectacle. which means it won’t be long before they attract local law enforcement — or worse. it’s important that he gets there first, that he tries to help, before suddenly its too late.
by the time he arrives, park benches are overturned, trees are pulled from their roots, and people are running scared. he lands with a thud, hands thrown up to catch a bench that just narrowly avoids him. he lets it hit the ground with a thunk, swatting obstacles like flies as he approaches the mutant. the kid’s scared, that much is for sure, and anyone in the BLAST ZONE is at risk. like the man beside him, who just narrowly avoids getting knocked over by what looks like it once was part of a swing-set. “ you should stand back. ” he warns the stranger, hands outstretched and pressing towards the ground. “ this will only get W O R S E before it gets better. ” thanks to en sabah nur, his powers are strong enough to manipulate the metal found in the earth. he won’t cause enough destruction to tear the park beneath his hands but will certainly be able to knock the mutant off their feet and draw their attention.
the last time he’d seen charles, he’d hid from him. trapped in someone else’s body, grappling with powers he wasn’t sure he could control, he’d feared that he’d hurt him. in time, he’d feared other things; feared they’d never get the chance, when you stripped away all the pain, and all the tribulation, to figure out just what there was between them.
even now, back in his own body, the fear still runs through him like an undercurrent. it says how much time do we really have? and he whispers back that he know better than most that nothing in life is guaranteed.
so he buys an expensive bottle of wine, cooks the pasta dish that he knows charles likes best, and surprises him with them both. he’s bent over, lighting a candle sitting atop the vanity when he hears the door open behind him. he turns, pulse skittering like he’s a teenager preparing for a first date, as a smile passes over his features. “ i thought we should celebrate. ” he explains, gesturing to the plates and the wine. “ now that i’m ... myself again. ”
there’s gratitude in every action he takes; grateful he’s back in his own body, and that he has a modicum of control over himself again. he’s grateful to leviathon and zatanna for trying to help him, for ensuring he didn’t cause any irreparable damage while stuck in rachel’s body, but as intoxicating as that power felt — he was more than happy to give it back. he does, however, have some questions. namely, why tommy’s reaction to seeing him-as-rachel in the inhibitor cuffs drew fear that practically rolled off him in waves. he’d lost his family once because he couldn’t protect them. in order to ensure it never happens again, he needs to know all the variables. he won’t lose anyone else.
once he’s located tommy. he lands with a dramatic crunch of boots on fresh gravel, hands falling by his side as he crosses over to him. “ when i was a child, my grandparents used to spoil me. ” he comments, pulling a packet of cookies from his pocket and extending them to tommy. “ we didn’t always have much but i had this sweet tooth — courtesy of my grandfather. your great-great-grandfather. that they always indulged. ” he’d like to do the same, he’s realized. be for tommy what his grandfather was for him. a safe place to land. he has questions he wants to ask, information he needs to know, but they have time.
