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Dread scraped a cold fingernail down Marc and Steven's spine. Glancing at you, Steven could hardly breathe. Disdain contorted your face, your posture haughty and regal though you lounged in your seat. Contempt dripped off you like water sliding over a fish.
"You have been nothing but a nuisance," not-you sneered, fixing Steven with a hard stare. "You and your little others are meddling."
Struck with cotton mouth, Steven struggled for a response. His heart beat unevenly in his chest, fear wrapping thorny vines around it, constricting him. "Like Scooby-Doo and the gang," he heard himself stutter out.
Not-you blinked, one eyebrow arching. "Excuse me?"
"'I would've gotten away with it, too, if you weren't for you meddling kids.'"
"Now's not the time, Steven," Marc warned, his face reflected in the lamp on Simmons's desk.
The professor sat frozen still in his seat, the only indication of movement the rapid blinking of his eyes. Not-you didn't seem aware of his presence at all, and the man seemed keen on keeping it that way.
"Meddling kids," not-you said, as though tasting the words on your tongue. "Yes, an appropriate phrase."
"I think it's copyrighted or something-"
"Enough. I did not come here to be entertained by a man who doesn't know himself."
Steven frowned. "Well, that's uncalled for, yeah? What are you doing here anyway? Why're you choosing now to appear?"
Your lips curled into a chilling smile, making Steven's guts twist. "Thanks are due for that. Without your attempts to 'help' this vessel, I would never have been able to take her to the edge so quickly or effectively. Your efforts have sufficiently weakened her and allowed me to grow."
