Yeah, I'm from, like, uh... [shit, how far into the future is he? Obviously Tony is from before Quentin's little stunt at the UN, but other than that? He's not exactly Iron Man's #1 stan following all of the deep lore or anything. He just goes with the safest option screams in sliding timescale] less than 15 years into the future, dumbass. You think all mutants from the future become cyborgs or something?
[No, they just become an immortal hippie cult on a fantasy orgy island. Far less preposterous.]
Whatever. Fine, I'll show you. But don't touch any of my shit, okay! If I catch you snooping around, I will find your least favorite song, and I will make sure it's stuck in your head for the next four to ten business weeks. Buckle up, shellhead.
[Fuck, okay, guess he's doing this. Bringing a goddamn Avenger into his head. You're really swimming on the big boy side of the pool now, Quire. Don't screw it up. He takes a deep breath that is definitely an exasperated sigh and definitely not to calm his nerves, briefly debates the coolest-looking way to go about this, and eventually decides on holding his hand up and dramatically snapping his fingers.
Emma and Charles are both far, far more skilled telepaths than Quentin, but what he lacks in finesse he makes up for in presentation. The section of his mind he's pulled Stark into—and yes, he left Tony with the silly too-small costume, sorry not sorry—looks not unlike Aldrip, with the notable exception of what can only be described as a massive, heavily secured warehouse taking up a vast chunk of real estate directly in front of them. Also remarkable is the total lack of any visible doors on the building. Weird! Quentin gestures grandly at it.]
no subject
screams in sliding timescale] less than 15 years into the future, dumbass. You think all mutants from the future become cyborgs or something?[No, they just become an immortal hippie cult on a fantasy orgy island. Far less preposterous.]
Whatever. Fine, I'll show you. But don't touch any of my shit, okay! If I catch you snooping around, I will find your least favorite song, and I will make sure it's stuck in your head for the next four to ten business weeks. Buckle up, shellhead.
[Fuck, okay, guess he's doing this. Bringing a goddamn Avenger into his head. You're really swimming on the big boy side of the pool now, Quire. Don't screw it up. He takes a deep breath that is definitely an exasperated sigh and definitely not to calm his nerves, briefly debates the coolest-looking way to go about this, and eventually decides on holding his hand up and dramatically snapping his fingers.
Emma and Charles are both far, far more skilled telepaths than Quentin, but what he lacks in finesse he makes up for in presentation. The section of his mind he's pulled Stark into—and yes, he left Tony with the silly too-small costume, sorry not sorry—looks not unlike Aldrip, with the notable exception of what can only be described as a massive, heavily secured warehouse taking up a vast chunk of real estate directly in front of them. Also remarkable is the total lack of any visible doors on the building. Weird! Quentin gestures grandly at it.]
Voilà! Behold, the Vault.