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 The telepath stuck the phone in his bag, too, and nodded back at Gabriel, wearing the same puffed-up expression. Truly, what would he do without Gabriel? What a worse world it would be for everyone. He swept the papers into the trash and then rummaged through one of the large cabinets to find something flammable. One of those metal cabinets found in a chemistry classroom, even. Safety first even for a genocidal meth lab, Quentin supposed. Still, there was plenty of acetone, ammonia, and other solvents with the big flame symbol on the labels, so it would not be too safe. He levitated a couple of bottles to Gabriel. "This is too much. It's not too much, is it? The X-Men are outside, this is fine." Gabriel took the bottles, studying them before offering a shrug. He wasn't a chemist. "Probably fine, right? These people are fucks." He paused, trying to remember what he could about explosives. "I don't think we want a bomb, per se, but like... a few-alarm fire?" He had half a mind to search for party drugs before they blew the place up, and he wondered if he'd inadvertently let that idea leak to Quentin. It was difficult to think for himself while consciously thinking at someone else. "Tap into that juvenile delinquency and light it up like World Pride in DC next summer that I will absolutely not travel to." They both knew that was probably a lie, too many parties to pass up. He lit a sheet of paper on fire and held it over the acetone-soaked trash can. "And we have drugs at home, we don't have to stop for them here. Come on, let's get out of here, get fucked up, and I'll show you how to stop nosey bitches like me from picking up stray thoughts in a TP link." "We have drugs at home, and we could have more drugs at home." Gabriel put the bottles down, then surveyed the lab one last time. "Okay, I'm good. Get ready to make a run for it." Quentin let go of the flaming paper, telekinetically suspending it over the ignition, and checked to make sure he had everything secure as he approached Gabriel. "On your mark." Gabriel couldn't help but grin, watching the flames dance dangerously above the trash can. "Show off," he teased, under his breath now that Quentin was close by. Without asking, he took the bag from Quentin. "Ready when you are. You know I don't need much time." "No one's ever accused you of finishing too fast," Quentin responded with a nonverbal laugh. He dropped the ignition. Minutes later, the warehouse was up in flames, an unsalvageable disaster and potentially another charge to level against whoever the X-Men managed to corral (who else could have arsoned a drug lab using drug synthesis materials other than the drug makers, after all). While Quentin and Gabriel were safe, unbothered, and unsinged a couple miles away. |