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Etraya Inbox
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It's baby's first psychic defense. That's you. Psychic defense baby. Now where's my "thank you"?/
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Five minutes later, Quentin's voice pops into Jayce's head again. Sorry, Jayce, you're not free from The Menace yet.]
/You're doing it wrong./
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[He has actually taken the wrong interpretation of Quentin's silence, thinking that it was not an intentional trolling, but rather waiting for Jayce to get it right and still failing. ]
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/Yeah, no. Honestly kinda makes you easier to read, but eh, whatever. Not important./
[This trolling? This is just because Jayce a) corrected him and b) didn't say thank you. Quentin is Petty.]
/Look, say I was there. Physically. In your Library of Brooding and shit. And I was pestering you like this. How would you get rid of me?/
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/How does it make me easier to read?
Depends on where we were. If it was in Piltover, I'd call Enforcers to escort you out. Here? If you wouldn't leave, I guess I would?/
[This is probably not helping his hypothetical.]
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[Nope. Not helping at all.]
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[Well, at least this conversation with Quentin is doing one thing: somehow, calming him down from the spiking anxiety he had been dealing with. Hard to be freaking out about stolen gemstones when he's busy in some bitch-off with a twenty-something-year-old.]
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DON'T
Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out.)
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/Ha! Okay, 10 points. But you're on thin ice.
Alright, fine, you don't get to call your silly little guards to seize me—which wouldn't work anyway, by the by—and you don't get to leave. Because spoilers: the hypothetical is about your brain, genius. Tell me how you'd kick me out./
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/Are you expecting me to say 'by force?'/
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[Bruh.]
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And for the record: if your first instinct is call other people to do your dirty work or just give up shit that's yours, you are a pushover. Also magic still sucks./
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Magic doesn't suck, and I'm sorry you've never seen the great things it can do./
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/Oh, I'm sorry, I thought I was the expert. How about you tell me how telepathy works, since you're such a smart guy.
And just for the record? I've seen plenty that magic has done. That's how I know it's bullshit./
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Without further discussion, Jayce tries a second time: imagining a room with himself and a faceless individual in a Piltover school uniform. He doesn't know what Quentin looks like, but whenever he "speaks," it comes from this being. And without more hesitation, Jayce imagines himself putting a firm hand on that being's shoulder and shoving him out the door.]
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Halfway out the door, the being Jayce is shoving morphs into what is clearly Quentin's actual appearance, complete with pink hair, glasses, and his obnoxiously loud pink and black outfit.]
/Hey, look at that, you're not completely hopeless. Good luck!/
[He snaps his fingers right as the door shuts, and somewhere in the "room" Jayce has imagined, a different door opens, revealing—gasp!—Sophie Cuckoo. Jayce's new little trick isn't nearly enough to keep out a telepath, and Quentin could easily push back if he wanted to. But for a non-powered human? It's a start.]
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She's gotta give him attitude, arms crossed, because go ahead. Just get it over with.
Fucking hell.)
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... Huh. It worked. He's not going to fool himself into thinking it's a permanent solution, but it felt enough like a success that he's not going to complain. Ironically enough, even a small accomplishment like this, along with having his mind put off his current problems by making this new one, put him in a slightly better mood.
And then here's Sophie again.
Now, rather than it just feel like a nebulous voice in his head, having a clear image of himself, of Sophie, and of this vague room that's starting to take shape more clearly, it feels less like he's going insane and more like he's just having a conversation. So rather than kicking Sophie out right away:]
/I know you had better intentions than how you came across. But you can't pressure someone to calm down, and expect them to thank you for it. Not how it works.
I'm still going to kick you out, now./
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Yeah, he's not incorrect. She did want him to calm down, first and foremost, but definitely went at it wrong. Still, why is he being... Nice about it? She doesn't get it, and instead of covering that with a neutral, defiant face, one of her eyebrows raise in confusion. What's up with people being nice when she messes up? She's hardly deserving of it.
At least yell at her or something. Be normal, Jayce.
Her perfectly manicured nails tap against the doorframe, and her eyes roll as a response.)
/And why do you think that exactly?/
(Just give her some data, man. She's struggling here.)
/That's fine. I'll resist a little so you can get some practice./
(Ouch, ouch, ouch.)
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[The void-like white room that Jayce had originally conjured up mostly for the sake of making a door make sense starts to take on a few more colors, mostly blues. No other furniture or shapes yet. He's still getting the hang of this.]
/Because most people do./
[He'll try now, putting a hand on her shoulder and giving a decent shove.]
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But she feels weird either way. It still feels wrong to have the best thought of her, being it because she's a mutant, or a telepath, or a Cuckoo.
It almost tips her into the doorway, but she promised to resist a little so he can learn to conjure up some more juice. He'll not be able to kick the other telepaths out with this, freaking Omega-levels and what not. But fine, he can use her. She's not a huge fish, but not a small one either.
Her hand grips on the doorframe and her blue eyes stare at him.
Go.)
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