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They had to talk?

Zachariah wasn't sure how much he liked the sound of that. Yes, of all people he could talk to, Faust was one of the most favourable ones. Somehow. He'd never let the log of a black manx know that. Of course, getting on Hydor's good side was a bit of a challenge. Everyone made him understandably grouchy, and he tended to seem exasperated by the prospect, of all things. Faust?

Well, he knew how to get down to business, so that sensation with him specifically was rarer.

But what would require a conversation right at that moment?

Wait. ... Entourage?

Did he have an entourage? Was that what gathering a bunch of newblets who didn't know what the hell they were doing counted as? "Yeah, I guess," he said, as he ran a hand through his hair. "Newbies keep finding me. Sometimes they're Talkers." Like Ancha. And probably like Demeter, to be honest. She had a lot of things to Talk about. Always. "Easier to show them what to do than let them flounder and die. Or get corrupted or some s**t."

He was ... concerned that would happen to Demeter with her being interested in some Dark Mirror lady now. "Why? You got some s**t for them to do?"

"Oh lovely, thanks," because they were definitely his problem.

To be honest, he could have just told everyone who kept asking him for things just to go ******** themselves. He'd reflect on why he didn't take that approach later, once he wasn't thinking that apparently dealing with the newbies made his starseed actually ******** respond.

"You're serious," it was said flatly, and there was an indication he wasn't actually expecting an answer as he pulled his transformation pen out of his pocket. Zachariah had been using the same pen for the better part of his senshi career, and at some point, he just accepted he would never receive that eternal boost. And that was fine -- why the ******** would he want wings on his a**, anyway -- but to hear that his starseed was ready for more power was a bit of a curveball.

It became even more of a curveball when he realized the reasons had to do with him being social. And supportive.

What the <******** held out the pen to Faust, with a dry, "Do me a favour and don't put it in your a**."

Was the b*****d really taking his ******** pen into the litter box?

Really?

Guess he didn't say don't ******** bury it in s**t, just don't put it in any assholes, but he didn't want that lack of finesse in his statements to mean he got a catbox-smelling pen back. He rolled his eyes at seeing Faust's whole a** just hanging out, snarking back, "Don't need to see your a*****e!" but at the very least it was guaranteed the pen wasn't in his a**. "Also my pen wasn't ******** dirty!"

Although now it definitely was.

It felt like he was taking forever, but Zachariah knew well enough he couldn't rush literal magic. Rolling his eyes, he turned to his phone and played an idle round of that skating through subways nonsense until suddenly there was catshitsand everywhere and a round cat was making his way back over.

With wings.

Unbelievable.

"My planet really picked the wrong s**t to focus on." He plucked up the henshin pen from the ground. White wings. Eternality. Somehow.

"Whatever makes it stop being a b***h, I guess."



The rush of power came with a new sense of strength--not necessarily a new sense of purpose, but it reached throughout his body all the way into his toes. His ankles suddenly felt barer, and he realized absently that somehow his outfit was even less put together than it was the last time he leveled up. That was somehow not quite as egregious as the literal wings adorning his ******** a**.

Why was this the symbol of power? Angel wings? Dove wings? The ******** did he look like?

Whatever. No point in focusing on that. He could feel it in his feet, in his fingers, in his body; there were new depths to his magic now.

... that felt like a terrible pun he wasn't repeating aloud.

"Think I can hand chaos their whole a*****e a bit more efficiently now." He snorted. "Get the sense my eternal magic's a ********' wallop."

Hydor wriggled his fingers and rolled his head, listening as his neck made a few satisfying pops and cracks. Everything felt weightier and yet, somehow, less so. He blamed that on the fact that while there was more on his outfit, there was also less. There were the unnecessary asswings. His collar was longer, he was fairly sure.

He was also stronger.

Faust might have actually looked a bit proud of himself. Hydor supposed he deserved to feel that. He had never figured he'd reach this level after staying stable at super for so long, and in some ways, he didn't mind that.

Or hadn't. It was irrelevant now.

"Oh, I'll kick some a**. Interested to try this s**t out." Something told him that whichever agent decided it was worth confronting him would quickly regret it. Too bad there wasn't one nearby he could whip, although considering they were in his ******** apartment that was probably a good thing. There were probably powered-down agents on other floors. They were ******** everywhere.

He glanced toward Faust through a visor that made the room look hilariously dim-- "Uh. You want some fish? I can order something."

That was as close to a thanks as anyone was going to get out of him.