[in Callaghan's defense, he didn't choose the bar. and he's mulling over how he decidedly didn't /choose/ the circumstances he's in, slouched on the couch, flexing his fingers and watching as the microbots shift back and forth upon it. with his face shadowed by the hood a grouping of have formed - what's now become a familiar weight of the blanket upon his shoulders and head - it's hard to read him, but the general attitude he's projecting is one of irate boredom.
they invited him to play pool with them. he declined. so now they're passing the time in their own ways, waiting for a few others to arrive so that they can get things started. in his case, it's working a bit on his control, nuances of commands, the signal, whatever methods have bonded him with these stolen things that have proven to be almost more trouble than they're worth...
some subtle probing of boundaries, that is to say. if he closes his eyes and keeps his hand still, he can practically visualize it just by the feel of the microbots moving over it- but he's not sure if that's because of his own sense of touch and pressure, or because he's picking something off of them. he'll have to experiment a bit more...
only his fist grips as the door opens, eyes opening, and for a moment there's only the three of them staring at Hiro in surprise. it wouldn't be the first time that there's been a kid used as a messenger - they're usually overlooked - so the thugs, while surprise, only react with so much hostility other than looking at each other and then towards Yokai.
Yokai, mind, is gripping his fist, the sudden writhing of microbots the only warning before they lunge off him for Hiro himself.
ever seen a dog leaping to attack? it's not so dissimilar. though the snarl is purely Callaghan's, as he starts to get to his feet]
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they invited him to play pool with them. he declined. so now they're passing the time in their own ways, waiting for a few others to arrive so that they can get things started. in his case, it's working a bit on his control, nuances of commands, the signal, whatever methods have bonded him with these stolen things that have proven to be almost more trouble than they're worth...
some subtle probing of boundaries, that is to say. if he closes his eyes and keeps his hand still, he can practically visualize it just by the feel of the microbots moving over it- but he's not sure if that's because of his own sense of touch and pressure, or because he's picking something off of them. he'll have to experiment a bit more...
only his fist grips as the door opens, eyes opening, and for a moment there's only the three of them staring at Hiro in surprise. it wouldn't be the first time that there's been a kid used as a messenger - they're usually overlooked - so the thugs, while surprise, only react with so much hostility other than looking at each other and then towards Yokai.
Yokai, mind, is gripping his fist, the sudden writhing of microbots the only warning before they lunge off him for Hiro himself.
ever seen a dog leaping to attack? it's not so dissimilar. though the snarl is purely Callaghan's, as he starts to get to his feet]