[ something strange is definitely going on with the unassuming kid sporting a bowlcut; things around him are being affected by his feelings, for sure, but they're flickering like a bad TV signal. colour leeches from his clothes and plants die at his feet — and then they spring back as choking weeds, curling around his ankles, before they wither once again. he seems to be encased in a sphere, and everything within is slightly duller than the world around it, his psychic barrier turning into a visible manifestation of him trying desperately to repress all feeling.

Mob has been trying very, very hard to maintain his usual flatline state ever since he arrived, and he is very, very nervous. a world that's affected by emotions... this is bad. whoever or whatever brought him here has made an awful mistake. his own powers make his emotions dangerous enough for people around him, and he doesn't want to be that terrible destructive thing all the time.

but, well. he's been afraid of his existence as a walking bomb for years. he has a lot of experience in burying it deep. so he walks around in this strange bubble, and he sits outside on a bench to eat as though nothing is wrong — and when he raises a spoon to his mouth, it twists itself into a knot like it's made of string. ]

Ah... [ the air around him gets, literally, heavier. ] So that's worse here too...

I can't afford that.

[ have you ever seen a socially awkward child try to deal with a determined sales rep? for all his strange deadpan ways, Mob is a pushover as soon as someone gives him the right nudge, and the woman he's talking to is definitely pushing hard enough. he stammers and sweats and she talks right over the top of him, so he doesn't interrupt her. ]

I really don't think... [ the saleswoman ignores his meek protests, takes him by the hand, and shoves a ring onto one of his fingers. ] A free trial? Uh. Okay...

[ he's just glad to have a reason to leave. except as he walks away, he immediately starts trying to pull the ring off, and it won't budge. he thinks that it's a con, at first, and he'll have to pay for it and Reigen isn't around to help him — but then it's pulling him, too, and as a reflex he uses his psychic powers to try and dig his heels in hard. all it accomplishes is tearing up the pavement and he keeps going anyway.

his expression is the very picture of "I NEED AN ADULT" as he looks around frantically, and anything breakable cracks in his vicinity from his panic. ]

[ Mob has never fought anyone that isn't an esper. it would go against Reigen's rule, Mob's own resolve, not to use his powers against other people. but... but this is something that needs to be stopped, isn't it? people are in danger and he can help them, and this won't be as bad as that time against Scar, surely. Reigen says it's okay to run away, but Mob doesn't need to run away from this. he won't hurt anyone. it'll just be like the Claw HQ; he'll put people down quick to make sure no fights can even start.

that's his plan when he volunteers to help stop the bandit ship, anyway. it's different in practise, when people are fighting around him and the bandits are using weapons, things he's never had to deal with in an esper battle. he's sticking to his resolve: pin them down against the deck, or hit them in the head with an open palm and a little psychic power—

until a blow catches him by surprise, and Mob feels the horrible, familiar surge of emotion rising in him. it's rage. this was a mistake, this was a mistake, this is the worst thing that could have happened. he's lucid enough to know that for certain. ]

No, no... [ he's been moving around with surprising agility for a kid his size, but now he stops dead. he's doubled over, clutching at his chest and twisting his fingers into his shirt; his hair is rising as if the gravity around him has cut out. he crackles with psychic energy, and under his feet the deck starts to smoulder. ] I'm...

[ it's never come suddenly. usually the tipping point is like staying in the water as it goes from warm to boiling, adjusting to it as it becomes a threat. but this is strange and jarring, because the anger is reaching its maximum and Mob knows it's not his, so fear starts to fill up the emptiness of him too, approaching the limit too quickly.

87%... 88%... 89%... ]