Phoenix Log

[Marco appears to have nodded off on his communicator despite efforts to stay awake. It doesn't take long for him to completely jerk out of it, and seemingly out of nowhere kick a table into the wall, smashing it into firewood, and coursing blue flames down an arm.]

I'll get to it when I can! [Growling at no one, good for your insanity. But after a few blinks it comes back to him where he is and he shakes his head, expression as deadpan as ever as he puts on the flames and goes to turn on the communicator, only to find it already recording.]

I kind of broke the table. Sorry. I'll replace it or something. [Drags a palm down his face trying to figure out "what now."]

Hey Discedo, what would you say defines who you are? Who or what you choose to be? Your obligations, or to you is it just a birthright? Just curious.

[And with that he's slowly sneaking back over to the couch with his Pops' giant coat and curling up under it while he figures out how to turn off the video again.]