9310/Heals and Seals

Heals and Seals
Date of Scene:	27 December 2021
Location:	Sublevel 2 -Training Facilities - The Roost
Synopsis:	Phoebe and Roy have a bit of a talk, though she takes him off guard with a display of her power. She's greatly confused when he says he's humbled, and tries to point out how amazing he is as well. Franklin Richards manages to apparate an astral projection past her wards to check on Roy after his leg was infected.
Cast of Characters:	Phoebe Beacon, Roy Harper, Franklin Richards

---

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe was a magician. She had taken to heart the advice of her curmudgeonly bastard of a first mentor with the 'anyone can learn magic' part. She was born to it and was taking to it like a bird in flight.

    She was also a healer. She loved medical tech, she loved the satisfaction of making people well again. She would have been a great doctor had she not gotten expelled from highschool.

    But first and foremost, Phoebe considered herself a fighter. She had multiple tools at her disposal, and though others may not see it through her outward appearances of too-large sweaters and happy socks, she kept up with her combat training.

    Which is why there was a tight concentration of throwing knives at a target, and Phoebe was stretching to start in on some kata. Her staff was to the side with her workout duffel. A waterbottle with a happy looking skull among moss and a bright butterfly was next to it, and the girl herself was wearing a tank top, showing the gnarly scarring on her left shoulder, echoed on the front and back of it, surrounding an injury. Not something one would expect for someone with a healing factor.

    Her hair was carefully braided, and bound back with a hair wrap. Her dark eyes were closed, nad her yoga pants had a pattern of very happy looking bouncing goats all over them.

Roy Harper has posed:
Roy has been getting a bit stir crazy in the Roost these past couple of days. After the medical emergency, he wasn't really one hundred percent so rather than potentially add himself to the victim pool in Gotham he decided to stay home and recuperate. Thanks to the sublime healing powers of Phoebe and a couple of days of rest, he is back in top form. So he decided to wander down to the training room and see what's what.

He's wearing blue gym shorts, a New Jersey Devils T-shirt, and nothing on his feet. "Oh," he says gently when he sees his recent benefactor stretching. "Hi, Pheeb." She just saved his life. Quite literally. His has nothing but smiles and warm tones of voice for her. That's unusual for the gruff, sarcastic, devil-may-care warrior. "Am I...am I intruding? Did you want some privacy?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Hmm?" Phoebe questions, and she pulls out an earbud, and seeing Roy she gives a big smile -- though her eyes do look to his leg to make *sure* there is no discoloration.

    "Good to see you up and about, Roy. No residual tingling or numbness?" she asks as she looks up to him with a smile, stretching her arms up a little bit as she regards the redhead.

Roy Harper has posed:
Roy quirks a little grin from one corner of his mouth. "Good as new," he exclaims, holding the leg out in mid-air and wiggling his toes. Just to further prove the point he does a flawless backflip and lands lithely on his feet.

He sits down cross-legged on one of the training mats. "You saved my life," he says bluntly. "I won't ever forget that." He nods in Phoebe's direction. "What're you working on?

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Very nice." Phoebe gives a slight grin as she watches the backflip, and she echoes his sitting down, drawing her feet into a lotus position. Her toenails are painted red and green.

    "You caught Bernie as he was fleeing the scene. He might not have gone back to Blackgate if you hadn't." Phoebe points out to Roy, and she gives a smile to the archer. "You're part of the Team. You're... one of my friends. I'm not going to say it was my 'job'... but I wasn't going to let you go down without a fight." she points out very gently to him. And she glances over her scarred shoulder. "Some target practice. Haven't gotten the right merrit badge yet, so no batarangs for me." she jokes, motioning to her throwing knives.

    "What were you coming down for?"

Roy Harper has posed:
When Phoebe reminds Roy of his past actions, he looks downward, away from her, as one with approximately zero self-esteem does. "Yeah," is all he manages for that part of the conversation.

He looks back up to Phoebe. "Do you ever wonder what this shit is all about, anyway? I mean, we go out into the world day after day, night after night, and we clean up messes. But why?" The look in his eyes seems to indicate he has formulated his own answer to that and it's not the kind of answer that people like to hear or that you're supposed to talk about in polite company and sometimes when the feelings get overwhelming you go find that dude you know down in the Cauldron who can get you some stuff on the down low that makes the pain go away for a little bit but until then you fake a smile and do some backflips and make everyone think you're okay.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe chews on her cheek a moment, and she looks over to Roy.

    "... well. I think it's... different. From person to person. I think a lot of us start out with this idea that we're helping. That if enough of us care, it'll make it better." she admits, and she draws her legs up. Her arms wrap around her legs, and she rests her chin on her knees.

    "But no one thinks about the mental toll it takes on us. Even as we try to measure up to others. I know why I do it. And my reasons have changed over the last year."

Roy Harper has posed:
He peers quietly as Phoebe talks. Roy is being very passive today, and seems like he wouldn't dare interrupt. When he winds her thoughts down he says simply, "I want you to know you can always talk to me and I'll be here to listen. No judgement, no snitching. You're a good friend and I...I hope you trust me."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe's eyebrows rise up, but she gives a gentle smile to Roy.

    "I want you to know that the same is available to you." she comments quietly. She looks out over the gym equipment, the training mats.

    "... it makes the pain go away, at least for a little while. Rooftop patrols. Crime fighting. Concentrating on other people instead of myself. Frantic research and dealing with four crisises at once, you don't get a lot of downtime to examine your own feelings." she replies, she she looks over to Roy.

    "You know... before I left the Roost for a while. My aura was always active. I was picking up on a lot of things that maybe other's didn't want to talk about. I used to do a lot of work with Gotham's homeless in a particular camp, before Tim recruited me." she leans back on one hand, her other crossing over her chest to hold against her shoulder.

    "... you know, my aura eases..." she struggles for a moment.

    "... I know what it feels like." she finally decides quietly. She scratches at her sternum a moment as her body curls a little bit. Protective.

Roy Harper has posed:
He has always been confused and amazed by things mystic, Roy. This is no exception. He sits there cross-legged on the training mat, watching Phoebe. He's not stupid by any measure, but auras and incantations are beyond his ken. "I'm going to come and go," he whispers. "I'll stop some shit from going down, save some lives, but whatever. When it's all said and done, anybody with a .45 could have done it. But you, Pheebs, you're something special. You're going to change the world. Probably change a whole lot more than that."

He goes quiet for a few beats, then looks to Phoebe with raw, glassy eyes, like he's going to share something that he has never dared to say out loud. And he does: "I'm humbled in your presence." The barest whisper.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "-- d-don't say that. Don't. Just don't." she breathes out. "This was an accident. This was because someone murdered my birth mother, and I happened to land in Gotham." Phoebe points out. "Anyone can learn magic. John even said so." well, what he said was 'any see-you-next-Tuesday' can, but he's horribly English and she wasn't about to comfortably use that word with another American. She looks embarrassed, and she raises up her hand. "I'm no more special than you, or Gabby or anyone else. "I can't back-shoulder-flip and shoot an arrow at a fleeing suspect with adjustments for wind and everything. You're incredible, you know!" she breathes out. "Don't you be.. just..." she pauses, and gives a slight sniffle, and curls her arms tighter around her legs, and she tilts her face into her knees.

    "If I could trade it for my old life, I would."

Roy Harper has posed:
If it were anyone else, Roy might move closer at put his arms around her to offer comfort. But he knows Phoebe doesn't like to be touched. So he keeps his distance. He, too, pulls his knees up to his chest. "Okay, let's do it," Roy says as he summons a warm smile so his face. Fake it 'til you make it, they say, so maybe this smile will dispel the demons for a little bit. "Let's give up our abilities and go live on a farm somewhere and raise ducks and sheep. We can sells eggs and wool for money and the sheep can keep the grass mowed. And the first Sunday of every month we can drive into town and get ice cream from an old timey ice cream parlor where they sell hard candies in bins and say shit like 'chocolate malteds' and 'soda jerks.'"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Oh My God Noooooo." Phoebe mutters. "I can't say 'soda jerks' with a straight face. Just like I can't say half the things I've heard my dad say with a straight face because it's so stupidly English." she sniffles, and keeps her face down, but she's trying not to laugh. "But any town that says 'chocolate malteds' and 'soda jerks' probably has *Phosphates* and there's going to be a Hallmark special about a white guy and a Black girl who show up to raise sheep and ducks." she draws her chin up a little bit, and looks to Roy with an expresison that is both amused and embarrassed.

    "My *old life* was being a highschool student. In Gotham. And going to Aikido practice. Definitely... definitely not raising ducks and sheep. Though ducks would be kinda cool to have in the garden. Maybe Tim will let me grab a couple for the rooftop." she gives a little grin.

    "Besides. In about half a television season we'd probably get so bored, or someone starts summoning demons and opening a hellmouth or we find out the Laundromat is an extension of a Mob-powered money laudrying operation, or the mob is trying to summon demons in the Laundromat to help process their laundred cash, and then we're right back, fighting crime and supernatural threats."

Roy Harper has posed:
Roy stretches out sideways on the training mat, propping his head up with one hand. The stretch flashes the ridiculous like, whatever, 20-pack abs he has. He quickly tugs his New Jersey Devils T-shirt back down. "Fine. We would probably get bored. So let's bring a piece of that here to the Roost. I mean, it's called a frickin' ROOST, so we should have some ducks. Fresh duck egg omelets would be so amazing."

He flashes a warm smile to Phoebe. "You're black?" he says playfully. Kid's a ball buster. "That...that's alarming. Does Tim know?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Yes. All the guys on the team have abs. If Phoebe wasn't so disciplined, she'd probably be walking into walls any time they got shown. Teenagers. Phoebe has abs too, but just a four pack. Like energy drinks.

    "I'm afraid it's true. I am Black." Phoebe states, and she holds out her hand to show that she is, indeed, a Black girl. "Pretty sure Tim knows I'm b- wait, why is that *Alarming*?! It's not as if you gotta soul so I gotta Soul for two!" she laughs, leaning back as she relaxes her legs.

    "Duck eggs are pretty amazing, not going to lie."

Roy Harper has posed:
He laughs along with Phoebe. Banter is Roy's favorite because you can laugh and you don't have to be real. That's why he likes breaking balls.

"I've known for a long time that I don't have a soul," he replies sagely, eyes closing for a few moments. "I like it that way. I don't have to behave or worry about tidying shit up in preparation for the after life. It's just one and done. Being a ginger is my favorite thing about myself." He snorts out a sudden laugh. "Plus for some reason dudes at the gay clubs fucking love my red hair. No complaints."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Uuugh don't get me started on the metaphysical theories of souls and sapience. I had to have a long discussion about which afterlife I would go to because I was baptized as a toddler but my birth family practiced Khemetism." phoebe groans.

    "And pretty sure the dudes at the gay clubs freaking love your red hair and Them Abs, your face. I dunno, you're good looking." Phoebe points out, and then motions to his face.

Roy Harper has posed:
An honest and genuine smile fights a mostly losing battle to get to Roy's face when Phoebe compliments him. It's a rare real moment for him, and a side of himself he shares with so few people. "Back at ya, hot stuff," he says.

"For some reason, though, guys feel like it's okay to just walk up to me and start touching my hair," he continues the theme. "But even at a gay club I guess it's not acceptable to just come up and start touching my abs. So the red hair becomes a weird gay proxy for touching, you know, other stuff."

This is suddenly all too much for Roy. He rolls on his back and starts giggling. His face and neck turn red from the amusement and the laughing. "Oh my gods why am I giggling? Only you can do this me I think."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Ugh. Tell me about it. My hair? Coily. When I had to straighten it people thought it was OK to touch my head, and now that I wear it natural and stuff? People just come up and grab a braid and ask if I did it myself. Or like, they want to hug me and I'm all 'Excuse me did not give you permission to enter my bubble!'" Phoebe echoes the complaint, though her ears and cheeks did darken a little bit when Roy complimented her. Unfortunately, she has no idea if it was a legit compliment, or if it was to get a rise out of her.

    And she give a look over to Roy.

    "Or you feel comfortable enough 'cause I made sure you weren't gonna lose your leg that you can let down the defenses around me." she points out, and adds: "... which is kinda nice, actually. There's not a lot of people who can do that unless my aura's up." she states, and she looks to her left wrist, which has a leather strip wrapped around it.

Roy Harper has posed:
Roy stays stretched sideways on the mat. He shrugs the shoulder that isn't on the floor. "Touching is nice. I like it. I especially like it with girls because there's no sexual tension involved. At least not for me. That's..." He blinks and snorts a little. "Okay that's probably super self-centered of me." He shakes his head. Subject change time.

"Okay can you please explain the aura thing to me? And...while you're at it, dumb it down like you were talking to a dumbass. Cuz you pretty much are, especially when it comes to magic."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "At least not for you. No, no, it's not self-centered if it's the truth." Phoebe gives a wry smile, and rubs her shoulder a moment, and hops to her feet as she goes to grab a sweatshirt. She's still nervous about the scarring on her shoulder. "I've been finding I freeze up more if I'm touched by strangers. Probably related to... being at the Silo." A BAd Time. She never did a full debriefing of the event that could be found on the Outsiders network.

    But she leans over and grabs out a Gotham Knights sweatshirt, pulling it on, and then she walks back over, and drops down into a lotus position again.

    "So. When I first started having powers, I had this... aura. A magical field around me that prompted healing, and good feelings. I didn't really understand a lot about it, and it unfortunately made it really easy to track me down through divination, and made me stick out like a sore spot -- literally? I was a magical beacon." she explains, and she undoes the leather strap at her wrist, and shows a tattoo. It's an intricate magical circle on her body.

    "This magical circle enabled my mentor to hide me, track me, and find me." she explains, and then puts her right hand over her left wrist.

    "Exolvo mi, da mihi lumen," she commands, and immediately, as she sits close to Roy, Roy may feel something tingling, good feelings, hope and light. An easement to pains and hunger pangs of all sorts as her aura opens.

    "So, right now, my aura is slowly healing anything, and generating serotonin and oxytocin."

Roy Harper has posed:
There is a moment...a dimensionlessly tiny instant of time...when it seems like Roy is going to bolt when the magical effect starts to affect him. Despite the fact that it's positive energy, he grimaces as it spreads over him. It's like someone unexpectedly coming up behind you without warning and giving you a shoulder rub: it's a positive thing that is done without warning or permission.

But Phoebe is his friend and he knows her intentions are only good. So he stays where he is, with a tenseness in his body and jaw as the only outward indicator that he is struggling with it. "Enabled? As in past tense?" Roy inquires. "I guess I don't know the story of your mentor. I know you had some fucked-up shit in your past but I never pushed for details." Then he quickly adds, "And I'm not pushing now! Only talk about what you're comfortable talking about."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Phoebe catches the look, the tensing, and she raises her eyebrows, and then it clicks, she hurriedly hisses "Qui lucem quaerunt in tenebris manent!" to halt the aura, bringing it back in. The circle glows, and then fades until it's just the white ink on her tattoo, and she breathes out, bringing her hands to her mouth as she whispers "I'm... I'm sorry. I forget that not everyone was used to it when I left either. I'm so sorry!" she whispers, the feelings fading as her ears and cheeks darken in embarrassment and shame.

    And she turns her face away.

    "It used to be always on. I used to isolate because I thought it was the only reason people liked me. I'm so freaking sorry, that was extra dumb of me."

Roy Harper has posed:
Roy sits up. "Pheebs, friendship means you don't have to apologize for doing something by accident." He looks at her for several long moments. "Would it be okay if I give you a hug?" he inquires, eyebrows both raised in a sympathetic expression.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "... I don't know if I could handle a hug right now." Phoebe admits quietly, her shoulders drawing up. "... I don't like being touched for a good reason, and it's not... only because I can't handle my powers without the tattoo." she whispers. "And no, I used my powers on you without asking. I used to think it was the only reason people liked me at all, and I just --" Phoebe trails off, and just draws her legs back up to her chest, toes crossing, and she breathes out. "I'm sorry."

Roy Harper has posed:
Roy is sitting cross-legged on a training mat. He's wearing nothing but gym shorts and a New Jersey Devils T-shirt. He smiles warmly to Phoebe. "Apology accepted," he says in a soft tone. "And the reason /I/ like you is because you put the needs of others so high up on your priority list. You have integrity and honor. And that's fucking rare, even in a city full of so many superheroes." He shrugs, and suddenly his eyes glitter mishchievously. Anyone who knows Roy can tell he's about to break the mushiness with some sarcasm and humor. "And also so I can say I have at least one Black friend."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "I realized after John sealed my aura that apparnetly I'm stupid likeable, even if I'll never have a date for Prom." she replies, her head still down against her knees.

    And then Roy has to ruin the moment.

    "Oh... my freaking gawd, Roy.

    Phoebe, aforementioned Black friend, is wearing a Gotham Knights sweatshirt over a tank top and Happy Goat Yoga pants, and is similarly barefoot on the mat. And she reaches into her pocket, pulls out her socks, and just lobs her socks at Roy's midsection. Those have happy sushi rolls and say "SASHIMI ROLLIN', THEY HATIN'" on them.

Franklin Richards has posed:
    Roy would feel the eerie sensation of being watched, and Phoebe may sense the arrival of another presence, or something struggling against her wards. It's kinda creepy, especially when a blurry image of that phantom boy walks around the training facilities, phasing in and out as he anchors himself in this space.
    The image eventually stabilizes, and Franklin Richards stands there, dressed in a loose-fitting white t-shirt and jeans. "Oh shoot," He looks between the two of them. Blue eyes settle on Roy. "Am I interrupting? I can come back later. I just, uh," He gives a sheepish smile and shrugs. "had a bad dream."

Roy Harper has posed:
Ruining the moment is Roy's wheelhouse. That's where he lives. He breaks into a giggle. Seems when he's alone with Phoebe, the normally stoic and flippant dude giggles a lot. Hopefully the security recordings of this don't get out. It will destroy Roy's image.

He takes a deep breath and relaxes himself. "Well if you don't get a date for prom, I'd be honored to take you. It's not every girl who gets a date for prom as hot as me AND who is guaranteed not to hit on her." Then, perhaps so as not to offend, he quickly adds, "I mean, if I was straight I might. I wasn't kidding earlier when I said you're hot. You are."

Then he starts to blink. Something...oddly familiar...about what's happening. "Oh shit," Roy says as he leaps instantly to his feet. He sees Frankie's projection materialize before him. "Franklin?" he says. "Is there...is there anything to be worried about?" Roy looks around the area like a warrior assessing a battlefield. It's a sudden change in his previously relaxed demeanor. But to be fair, the last time Franklin materialized near him Roy almost died.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Haaa, no, I was expelled for breaking someone's noooo--" Phoebe pauses, and she straightens up. She isn't used to feeling the alerts as someone punches through her wards. She opens her mouth a moment, her gaze drawing to the side before Roy leaps to his feet, and she draws herself slowly upwards. She doesn't loose her aura, but does bring her hands up as if she were ready for a fight... and then Roy inquires to the projection, and she gives a huff of breath.

    The security footage is definitely going to get out, but not because of the giggling. OK, partially because of the giggling.

    "A bad dream?" she questions, crossing her arms and looking up to the black-haired projection in front of her.

Franklin Richards has posed:
    "I guess not," Franklin's eyes travel down Roy, looking for damage. When he doesn't see any, he noticeably relaxes and lets out a sigh. Phoebe gets a nod, and his brows furrow as he explains, "I had a dream about Roy, and it was bad. Sometimes my bad dreams come true. But you look fine, so I guess this one didn't."
    Since he didn't receive a answer on if he's interrupting things, he starts looking around, hands on his hips. "Nice place. Something was blocking me, which was new, but I just slipped right through. Made me feel small for a moment," His gaze returns to the pair. "Are you going to introduce me to your friend, Roy?"

Roy Harper has posed:
Roy slowly begins to relax his battle stance, like a powerful spring starting to uncoil. "Uh, hi, Franklin. This...this is Balm. She's an Outsider. Balm, this is Franklin Richards. Yes, /that/ kind of Richards."

Canting his head slightly to one side, he considers Franklin. "What kind of dream did you have? Because that healing gel stuff didn't do the trick. I got infected big time. My entire legs was apparently black and swollen. Prolly would have died if it wasn't for Balm here." He gestures to Phoebe. He doesn't elaborate because it's not his place to discuss the details of someone else's powers. It's also why he introduces Phoebe by her code name. It's not his place to reveal this stuff.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Good afternoon, Franklin." Phoebe replies, looking still a little unnerved. "Those were my wards you slipped through. I'm going to have to take a closer look and make sure I've connected all my lines..." she considers quietly, and then looks at Franklin, and begins to circle the projection.

    "Is this psychic or mystic?" she asks. "And this is going to sound like a weird request, but can I poke your shoulder?"

Franklin Richards has posed:
    "You can try," says Franklin. Should she, she'll find that there's nothing physical about the form he's presenting to them. "And I'm gonna go with psychic," Calling Franklin a psychic, though, is like calling the Elder Gods magicians. "It's nice to meet you, Balm." He holds out a polite hand. Then retracts it, laughing awkwardly to himself.
    "That...that wasn't supposed to happen, Roy," He looks concerned and apologetic. "I -- damnit. I thought you'd be good." As for the dream? The young man's eyes drop, and his head shakes. "Well, it sounds awfully similar to what you're describing. Except you did die."

Roy Harper has posed:
Seeing Franklin's expression drop like that causes Roy to take a step closer to the projection. It wouldn't take an expert in human behavior to see that he obviously likes Franklin. "Hey, man," Roy begins, his tone soft. "Neither one of us knew. You did the best you could with the limited information we had. Don't beat yourself up. I didn't die. See?" He jumps up and down the balls of his feet a few times.

"Balm, in your expert medical opinion, am I dead right now? Be honest."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Fabulous." Phoebe states, and she pokes the apparation's shoulder. It passes right through.

    "Neat!" she compliments Franklin, and then turns to Roy.

    "In my very nearly expert opinion, you're not dead," she gives a wry grin, and takes a step back, her arms crossing a little bit as she looks to Franklin.

    "So it was your family's med gel that didn't finish the job? I'm genuinely surprised. The amount of damage that was done post-application could be chalked up to maybe a fraction of the stinger non-biological entities or allergic reactions, or even a secondary reaction depending on the trauma of the original injury." Phoebe replies, looking to Franklin. "But he nearly lost his leg, and had a fever to the point of hallucination and damages could have been tricky had we not rehydrated him first. I mean, he addressed me as--" she pauses a moment, and then she looks to Franklin, then looks to Roy, and then looks to Franklin again "-- by someone else's title. It was strange." she gives a nod, as much as a 17-year-old medic could give.

    "So, do you always project into secret bases, or is Roy special?"

Franklin Richards has posed:
    "No, you don't look dead," says Franklin with a ghost of a smile. His head lifts. "I still messed that one up though, there's no denying that," the whole situation, not just the infected wound. "How can I repay you for saving my ass?"
    "It's something I've always been able to do," Franklin says to Phoebe. "When I was little, I would go to bed and just be...elsewhere. If those wards were yours, that means I could probably teach you how."
    The medical talk goes over his head a bit, but he nods as she continues. "I don't know. Dad always says science isn't 100," Yeah, this Richards isn't known for his brains. "This is a secret base?"

Roy Harper has posed:
Oh. That's right. He did save Franklin's bacon, didn't he? Well, he doesn't hero for the rewards but who could fault him for trying to get a small bit of benefit for his, you know, totally selfless and incredibly brave actions? "Repay me for saving your ass?" Roy repeats. "Well...hmmmm...." He clasps his hands behind his back, looks upward in contemplation, and rocks up on the balls of his feet a few times. "You could have dinner with me?" He grins and looks at the projection of Franklin.

He does glance over at Phoebe, though, because she's pretty much his barometer as to whether or not he's crossing any lines. He pretty much can never tell.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Science is rarely a hundred percent, and if anyone knew it, it'd be Reed Richards." Phoebe admits, and she gives a small smile. "I'm not skilled enough for astral projection yet. My tether's weak. I'm still learning the more difficult parts, but wards? Wards I like. They're an art." she states to Franklin, and then she hears Roy from behind her, and she presses her lips together, and tilts her head back a moment.

    "Incidentally, yes. So I would thank you to not reveal its location." Phoebe does give a smile, and she looks between the two young men. And then she points to Roy.

    "And thank you for triaging him. If you hadn't helped, I might not have been able to get to him in time to save him."

Franklin Richards has posed:
    "My lips are sealed," Franklin says, taking another look around the room. There's an added thrill in his eyes. Secret bases are cool. The Fantastic Four should invest in more of them. "Should've known. The tech here is impressive."
    He glances at Roy, eyes narrowing just a touch, but he grins. "That seems fair," And would probably piss off his parents. That's pretty much always a bonus. A series of eleven digits lodge their way into Roy's cortex. "There. Now, you have my number."
    The projection starts to fade, giving an ethereal quality to Franklin's form. "I should probably wake up soon. Balm, it was a pleasure," He looks to Roy. "Glad you're safe. Call me...whenever." And just as quickly as he came, he's gone.