"Shut up." The reply, spat out on the heels of help you.
Karla met his stare. She would, later, give closer thought to the degree of arrogance Chilton's words betrayed. He had -- helpless in the face of greater strength and (apparently) unchained rage -- seen fit to offer up condescending appreciation. To declare her finally real, to claim credit, to position himself as a savior. As if she didn't know herself. As if she were afraid of self-examination; as if she hadn't spent her entire adult life digging through her own psychological makeup, retraining herself, covering weaknesses.
Her own body trapped his against the wall; she could feel his heartbeat. Later, too, she'd decide, he didn't lack the capacity to assess the situation, to feel the proper fear. It was his priorities that were the question.
For now, though, analysis took a back seat. Karla narrowed her eyes.
She noticed the swelling of photons -- a heated, thrumming thing in her veins, mounting along with her anger. He had provoked her reaction. The knowledge that she had failed -- was presently failing -- to maintain control did nothing to mitigate her growing hatred for him.
"Insufferable prick." Her lips curled around a snarl.
Her fingers tightened around Chilton's wrists. She thought to continue until she felt his bones pop and shatter in her grip; all at once, though, she stopped. Sliding his arms above his head, she transferred both of his hands to one of hers. Her free arm now rested on his shoulder.
"In your prying, did you happen to learn anything about this?" Karla's hand, in front of his face, faded out of solidity. "The ability to turn intangible. It's generally a defensive advantage but it has its... offensive benefits too." Still propped casually against his shoulder, she leaned forward a few inches. Her phased fingers slipped inside his skull. He wouldn't feel it, of course. Not physically.
"Now." She smiled. "If I'm guessing right, my fingers are presently inside your frontal lobe. Shall we see what goes first if I solidify them? Of course--" Shaking her head, she let out soft laugh. A parody of self-deprecation. "I never paid the best attention in neuroanatomy. Maybe I'll just keep going until you lose the ability to speak."
no subject
Karla met his stare. She would, later, give closer thought to the degree of arrogance Chilton's words betrayed. He had -- helpless in the face of greater strength and (apparently) unchained rage -- seen fit to offer up condescending appreciation. To declare her finally real, to claim credit, to position himself as a savior. As if she didn't know herself. As if she were afraid of self-examination; as if she hadn't spent her entire adult life digging through her own psychological makeup, retraining herself, covering weaknesses.
Her own body trapped his against the wall; she could feel his heartbeat. Later, too, she'd decide, he didn't lack the capacity to assess the situation, to feel the proper fear. It was his priorities that were the question.
For now, though, analysis took a back seat. Karla narrowed her eyes.
She noticed the swelling of photons -- a heated, thrumming thing in her veins, mounting along with her anger. He had provoked her reaction. The knowledge that she had failed -- was presently failing -- to maintain control did nothing to mitigate her growing hatred for him.
"Insufferable prick." Her lips curled around a snarl.
Her fingers tightened around Chilton's wrists. She thought to continue until she felt his bones pop and shatter in her grip; all at once, though, she stopped. Sliding his arms above his head, she transferred both of his hands to one of hers. Her free arm now rested on his shoulder.
"In your prying, did you happen to learn anything about this?" Karla's hand, in front of his face, faded out of solidity. "The ability to turn intangible. It's generally a defensive advantage but it has its... offensive benefits too." Still propped casually against his shoulder, she leaned forward a few inches. Her phased fingers slipped inside his skull. He wouldn't feel it, of course. Not physically.
"Now." She smiled. "If I'm guessing right, my fingers are presently inside your frontal lobe. Shall we see what goes first if I solidify them? Of course--" Shaking her head, she let out soft laugh. A parody of self-deprecation. "I never paid the best attention in neuroanatomy. Maybe I'll just keep going until you lose the ability to speak."