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Except they didn't come. Sawyer had kept a largely-uninterested eye on the news and he knew something vague about terrorists in white suits; he'd heard things--who hadn't--and with a humoring interest filtered the various rumors and exaggerated stories, but nothing quite prepared a mundane person for what he had just witnessed. The jingle of his bracelets was a pathetically cheery tune that went unanswered for a split second by any noise: just silence punctuated by all the red draining out of Sawyer's perpetually-flushed face, and then the sound of the bottle hitting the floor.
"What the ********?" he demanded weakly, stiff and tense in his jacket, fairly vibrating with potential action.

"It's a recruitment Fix. Sawyer." He grinned as he corrected himself and maybe it took away some of the intimidating edge. He pulled Sawyer in another step, slowly, meaningfully, and he was stronger than human, certainly. Strong enough that it would be difficult, if not impossible, to tug away.

"It's a change, and one that will give you power, assuming it doesn't go horribly wrong and you get turned into a monster." Ilmenite's eyes flicked onto Zac as he said it, eyebrows rained. "There's no way that could happen, could it? I mean. Not to me."

"I'm not thinking ******** hugs," he said, his voice pitching up in panic as he yanked back, trying to break Ever's--Ilmnenite's--grip on his jacket. "Crush what? Squeeze what? What the ******** are we squeezing and crushing?"

The first few seconds and Sawyer's fingers curled up into a fist, but almost immediately went straight and stiff from the shock of the pain. A little sad sound escaped his clenched teeth, and then, like a rabbit who realizes the fox's bite has closed, he just went limp: unresisting, sagging, as if by submitting he might appease Ever's... wrath, or hate, or whatever it was that was making him hurt him.

He only took an instant to look woozy down at his sleeves, at his feet.

He'd nearly slumped when he was released, supported only by Ilmenite's hands, but when he recovered it was with the whip-snap suddenness of the reptilian hindbrain kicking in.

And there was this to be said for Sawyer: he might have slipped along through people's notice like a nervous rodent, all awkward mannerisms and clinging affection and soft-muscled laziness, but when the fight or flight reaction ticked over, it did not tick in the direction one would expect.

Instinct boiled up and brought with it the sudden upward pitch of a balled fist, fueled by adrenaline, rage, and by his new-found strength. He didn't seem aware of the fact that Ilmenite's hands on his arms might stop him cold. He didn't seem aware of anything, really, except an overwhelming need to hurt whatever had just hurt him.

Zac glanced to Ever, well…Ilmenite in that moment of primitive panic from their new recruit.
Since he hadn’t yet powered up for the sheer fact of his power signature he couldn’t feel if anyone else was around. Ever didn’t seem to be reacting though so he took the chance and tried to address the situation as well.

“Hey, Sawyer. Be calm, no one is going to do that again. No one is going to hurt you. You’re safe…”

A small lie, he’d omitted of course that no one was going to do that again, until he earned the rank of Captain.

Still, he held up his hands to at least give a view of being very ‘civilian’ and open handed.

“Calm down… please.”

"Zac, grab a beer, would you?" It wasn't a terrible suggestion, likely -- Ilmenite easing out of uniform and back into his battered clothes. If Ever was upset by the reaction, or surprised, or horrified, it didn't show on his face or in his posture. He looked relaxed, and maybe that was intentional.

If he was calm, Sawyer should be as well.

"Actually, make that two. And one for you, if you want it."

He ignored the drink--let it be put down on the floor, for all he cared--and slunk past Ever without taking his eyes off him, as though he were negotiating space with a rabid dog. He flung open the closet door but the goal was, apparently, only to access the mirror hanging on the inside, which he stared into while he spoke, dividing his attention between his reflection and Ever's.

He swallowed, hard. "Well?" he demanded, but it was less angry than before. The surreality of the situation had taken enough hold to rob him of his rage, leaving only a tired bewilderment. He reached up to touch, gently, his chest, as if testing to see if his hands would sink right through coat and flesh alike.