I Side with Those Who Favor Fire

[Typhoid]

She took it from his hand, intending to try an experiment as opposed to actually learn how to fire a gun. She'd been taught enough to fire it safely, at least. "I haven't done this in awhile."

[Pietro Maximoff]

::Pietro nodded slightly; he believed that. With her abilities, she had little need for weaponry.::

[Typhoid]

She took aim unexpertly but still with a little confidence, though the point was merely to fire the gun, not what she hit. It went off, her eyes flashed, and the bullet stopped in midair, glowing green. The hand that still held the gun dropped to her side, but she didn't take her eyes off the bullet. It was almost too hard, to hold it in midair without causing it to ash, a balancing act she hadn't attempted in a long time, and failed at every other time.

[Pietro Maximoff]

::Pietro watched, fascinated, as the bullet stopped in midair, held there by her abilities. He had a peculiar fascination with mental abilities, as they were in stark contrast with his own.::

[Typhoid]

She winced, shutting her eyes and looking away. The bullet dropped to the ground, no longer glowing. "That is not a good idea, apparently."

[Pietro Maximoff]

::As the bullet dropped, Pietro moved, caught it at the last moment. His thumb rubbed over the metal, in the back of his mind, an awareness of the irony, that he, too, would depend on metal for this task. As had been happening with greater frequency, he lapsed into his native tongue, then swore mentally.:: "Warum das ist?"

[Typhoid]

She rubbed the back of her neck with her hand trying to stave off a new headache, a little surprised at his switch to German. "Makes my head hurt, to hold it suspended without ashing it."

[Pietro Maximoff]

::Pietro nodded, understanding. When Wanda worked against her natural powers, it caused her pain as well; she also grew ill from using her powers. He did not say that, did not speak until he could assure himself it would be in English, controlled.::

[Typhoid]

Her brow furrowed. "Are you all right?" The sudden switch to German and his even more sudden silence confused her; that was only something he did when agitated.

[Pietro Maximoff]

::Pietro's hand curled into a fist around the bullet. He was not all right, not if this stress would get to him to the point of ripping control from him. A pause, an eternity, as he forced himself to speak.:: "I am here."

[Typhoid]

Ty left the gun on the ground, crossed the small amount of distance between them. "Was ist falsch, meine Liebe?" she asked, putting one hand on his shoulder. If he could only speak in German at the moment, so be it.

[Pietro Maximoff]

::Pietro took a deep, measured breath, regaining a tight control of himself. He was a grown man and could speak in this country's language without difficulty, even if at this moment, he betrayed himself. English translation from native thoughts, it came with lightning speed and he answered.:: "It is stress, nothing more."

[Typhoid]

She shook her head, not taking that as any sort of explanation. He'd seen stress before and not reacted like this. "I don't believe you."

[Pietro Maximoff]

::She did not believe him, and Pietro could hardly fault her, though he spoke the truth. He had sworn to never lie to her, and he had not. Instead, he felt this far more acutely than he had in the past; it reverted him, and that alone was difficult. Generally, when accused of lying, he set his jaw with determination. He did not with her, instead relaxed himself as much as he was able.:: "It is death stress."

[Typhoid]

Her brow furrowed. "Who is going to die, besides the ones who deserve it?" she asked softly.