maskormenacelogs | Gonna burst into flame, go ahead

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Gonna burst into flame, go ahead

WHO: Anyone assisting in the Civil War Museum rescue thanks Lucifer
WHERE: the Civil War Museum, I hope
WHEN: 3/10, afternoon? correct me if I'm wrong
WHAT: BIG DAMN HEROES and/or screwups
WARNINGS: arson, civilians trapped in a burning building, will edit further warnings if necessary

Emma was more of a natural second-in-command, but she didn't see a leader emerging anywhere--civilian fire fighters or police officers hardly counted--and lord knew she had experience with getting a crowd of independent sorts to work together...by fair means or foul. Standing in front of the building, very visible in her impractical X-Men uniform, Emma reached out to the imPort minds she could feel nearby, the exertion of using her telepathic talent to do so many things at once starting cause the pink-white aura that was the visible signature of her power to dance in and around her eyes.

I'm Emma Frost. I'll be coordinating rescue efforts. Her telepathic voice came through strong and assured, along with a mental image of herself, tall, blond, and dressed in revealing white, with the encircled X of her team logo located rather questionably directly over her cleavage. For those of you who don't know me, I'm a telepath, and the joint leader of the X-Men, a superhero team in my home universe. For the moment you've been deputized, and given that I have high standards, congratulations are in order.

The speed of thought was fast enough for Emma's brand of dry wit not to use up too much time, but she switched to practical matters without more than a passing delay for banter. Our priorities are lives and keeping the fire from spreading, but after that we can let the local talent feel useful and put it out. Apprehending our arsonist can wait. If you need to talk to someone else on the team, just think it and I'll pass it on. This is functionally a mental conference call.

...All right, darlings, let's get started.

OOC: Right, so, this is a group log, and the threads don't have to include Emma. She's going to be a Useful Plot Device the way telepaths always are and make sure everyone has an excuse to thread with whoever they want and know things they might not otherwise not be able to find out. If your character is immune to psi or you otherwise don't want Emma in their heads, that's fine, too. Just specify so that no one assumes. And now I have to go cook dinner so I won't even be the first thread in my own log. ;___;

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[His response to that is almost immediate.]

I'm not being modest. That's how I feel about it. I did what I could, but in a world where people are running around with superpowers and criminals who won't hesitate to kill innocents, it's difficult to not feel a little useless in this kind of situation.

[Which is as frustrating as ever. But his tone relaxes a bit; his criticisms aren't directed at Edgeworth, obviously.]

Sorry. I do appreciate what you said, though. How are you doing?

[He looks down at his feet in response to that last question; he struggles to allow no hint of weakness to show. Just an hour prior, Lucifer had come to his office, and shown him how utterly pointless his efforts were. He'd held Edgeworth's life in his hands and given it back - mockingly, contemptuously. And Edgeworth -

Edgeworth is not going to think about it. He is not going to spare a thought for anything except the rescue efforts here. Nothing else is worthwhile; certainly not that.]

Quite well. What else needs to be done? You have been on the ground.

[Unfortunately for those who know him in his world, Light is uncannily good at reading people. Usually, he uses this talent to reflect back what people wish to see; in this case, Edgeworth simply moving on from the question to more immediate matters at hand. He doesn't acquiesce this time.

He does, however, pause long enough to finish his water, reaching out to toss the cup away in a public trash-bin nearby. He then looks squarely at Edgeworth, ignoring his question completely. "Quite well" didn't fly.]

Something's bothering you? [Beyond the obvious.]

[There's a brief surge of panic; he turns his head away at once until it dissipates, furious at himself for feeling something so idiotic as that. He's furious, too, at his own reluctance to talk about it. Lucifer has compounded crime upon crime with all of this, and Edgeworth isn't about to help to conceal any of it. By rights, he ought to be trumpeting this across the network for all to hear of.

But he hasn't the fortitude for that. He is too weak for that. Instead, he just stares off to the side, at the smoldering building, and answers:]

That the man hasn't yet been apprehended.

[Light watches him carefully, and upon hearing his response, he frowns a little.]

That's not surprising. For someone to commit that kind of crime so openly... Well. It's obvious they were confident that they were going to get away with it.

[He doesn't sound much happier about it than Edgeworth does, though his statement seems to spike a level of grim enthusiasm in Light that was lacking just minutes before, feeling worn and tired.] That doesn't mean he won't be taken in eventually, however. Did any other information on him crop up while I was here? I caught his moniker -- "Lucifer" -- but that was about it.

[Edgeworth doesn't look back at Light; his expression just grows a little bit more pinched, a little bit more unhappy.]

Indeed. We know a bit more about his abilities than we did before.

[Even as he asks his next question, he's quietly considering Edgeworth's body language out of habit alone.]

Which are...?

He can, at the very least, manipulate the things around him in some fashion. Transport himself and transport objects instantaneously.

[His voice is clipped and professional, but his body language indeed tells a story: he folds his arms defensively across his chest; the set of his shoulders is tense.]

I see.

[It's a straightforward enough answer, one that Light makes a mental note of. But it's also an unsatisfactory one, given how Edgeworth is acting (however subtle it may be). And so, on instinct:]

And how did you come across this information, Edgeworth?

[It's an inevitable question. Edgeworth would have been surprised if Yagami hadn't asked it. Even so, it's one he doesn't want to answer - he wants to just focus on this, focus on what's ahead of him, not...that.]

I witnessed it firsthand. There are more important things than this; we still have work to do.

[If Edgeworth thinks that Light is going to simply let him move on after that admission, he's sorely mistaken. He isn't deterred by the man's hesitation -- in fact, he's rather spurred on by it.]

Hold on, I'd like to think that this definitely something of import to discuss. [Because the implication, to him, is clear.] You spoke to him?

[He hesitates a moment, then says, finally, quietly:]

Yes.

[He knits his brow together, looking almost dire. He presses again.] Did he... did he threaten you? You need to tell me; details in a case like this are vital.

[And that earns Light a scornful little laugh.]

Yagami, if he had threatened me, do you really think that would upset me? If I lost a night's sleep for every death threat I received, I wouldn't have slept for the past fourteen years.

[He glances briefly at Light, then looks away again. He tries to sound breezy and casual.]

He utilized his power upon me to prove he could. No lasting harm was done. That is all.

[And then a short, stiff nod, and he starts walking away.]

[Upon him? No lasting harm?] What do you mean, "that's all"?

[While part of him is annoyed at the dearth of details, the other part of Light is simply concerned. It's true that he hasn't gotten along with Edgeworth very much at all -- but even so, he respects the man (even more so after his quick coordinating of the rescue), and the fact that some implied harm may have come to his housemate hits too close to home.

And so when Edgeworth turns around to walk away, Light steps forward, reaching out to grab him by the arm and stop him.]

Hey! Don't just walk away!

[It's foolish. Edgeworth didn't panic when Lucifer attacked him. He didn't lose his head afterwards, either - rather, he questioned the man, collected his fingerprints, gleaned as much information as he could. When he reported what he had learned to the police, he'd remained cool. Throughout the whole affair, he had remained calm - and yet now, for some reason, faced with Yagami of all damn people, he finds his breath coming shorter and panic bubbling uncontrollably up in him.

The boy's grip on his arm stops him. He turns; his face is pale and his lips are thin. He's struggling to control himself, and he's not doing well in the fight.]

I mean that's all. Nothing else is relevant. Unhand me.

[Light's grip isn't forceful, but it's firm. He doesn't let go. Seeing Edgeworth's pallor only reinforces the fact that he shouldn't, lest the man flee from his attempts at understanding what really happened.

And so he stands his ground, obstinately, ridiculously -- quite ready to dig his heels into the pavement if need be. He looks squarely at him and sets his jaw, determining what he should say. He decides to be blunt.]

If that's really all there is to it, then why do you look like you're about to fall apart?

[He could pull away. He could hit Light in the face until he lets go. He could shove him. He could do something to prove that he is ferocious and unafraid - that he does not care for Light's idiotic assessment. As though he could fall apart over something as petty as a criminal attacking him. As though he were so weak, so pathetic. He -

A nauseated tremor goes through him.

And he doesn't hit Light. He doesn't fight. Instead he just quietly asks:]

What do you want from me, Yagami.

[That earns the slightest moment of hesitation from him. What was he expecting from Edgeworth, really? For the short amount of time that he's known the man, he can only expect for him to continue being evasive and defensive. Maybe Light will only make whatever it is he's feeling worse, and the thought flickers through his mind, evident in the way he casts his gaze to the side for the slightest moment.

But then it's gone. He looks at him again; he has reasons. Legitimate ones. Rational ones.]

I want you to be honest with me. I want you to tell me what happened, not in vague generalizations, but in a way that explains what has you so clearly shaken. The more details you share, the more likely we can figure something out, the higher the chance of success will be, and--

[And. And god, that sounds so trite, even though there's truth behind it. And so he just scoffs and speaks sincerely.]

And I'm just worried about you, okay?

[That last comment makes Edgeworth turn his head bitterly to the side. He's not, admittedly, like he used to be; he does not reject friendship and kindness out of hand, does not scorn company. But it's hard to hear that sort of thing. Loki, who knows this Lucifer well, had harped on the fact that Lucifer would hurt his friends, that the man would cause harm to those he cares about - and Yagami gets under Edgeworth's skin, but he's also only nineteen, and to see harm come to him -

Much of Edgeworth's snappishness towards the two of them, Yagami and Violet both, stems from his desire to see them protected. He'll never be a father, but...He cannot deny that, at times, he perhaps has paternal instincts.

But he answers. The rest of what Yagami says is right. Edgeworth owes that information. His response is clipped, quiet.]

He pulled my lungs from my chest and left me to smother in my blood. Just to toy with me. In my own office.

[He isn't sure what he expects to hear. But he certainly does not expect to hear that. Disbelief creeps into his tone.]

He - what?

[With that, he lets go of Edgeworth's arm. One could say he does so out of shock, if not for the fact that he moves to reorient himself -- so that he's standing directly in front of the man. He looks at him, at a loss, looking at his chest like there should be an empty, bloody hole there. Looking like he's about to ask "shouldn't you be in the hospital" or "shouldn't you be dead".

But he doesn't. The process was reversed, obviously. But that doesn't make it any less cruel, any less of a monstrous thing to hear.]

You said "transport objects" but I didn't think -- I didn't assume it would be in that capacity. Why are you out here? You need to recover; physically and mentally.

I'm fine.

[He doesn't meet Light's eyes. Instead he stares at a point somewhere down and to the left. Slowly, methodically, he adjusts his sleeve, pulling it perfectly back into place. Then, methodically, he brushes off his arm. There's something overcareful about the gesture - something neurotic.]

What's more important is the state of the people here. Whether or not they are well. That must be ensured.

[Light doesn't appear satisfied by that answer in the least.]

You're not fine, and they are being ensured. By the police and the medical crews here. There's nothing else we can do that wouldn't just end up getting in their way. [Edgeworth found him sitting on the curb for a reason, after all.] Go back to the house and rest. There's no point in overexerting yourself after a day like today.

[He shakes his head, but still doesn't look up or meet Light's eyes.]

I'm going to continue on. Help me if you wish.

[He's noticing that.]

...Why are you so stubborn, Edgeworth?

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