[And suddenly it doesn't feel like a game anymore. Whatever "storm" she's talking about doesn't sound like a boast. It sounds real.

Quentin's never had much of a poker face, especially not around girls and with anyone in his personal space. So Jinx would get a great opportunity to see his expression shift from toothlessly grandiose to growing alarm and realization to serious, though he tries to disguise the latter by adjusting his glasses.

Alright, Quire, big boy decision time. He's sorta decided to be on the good guy's side now, and this sounds pretty solidly like villain stuff. But nobody could possibly say Quentin Quire any good at being, well, good. If one of the Hawkeyes or America or even Wolverine were here, they could tell him how a good guy's supposed to handle something like this. But they're not. So he's gotta go with what he knows. Which is to be a bastard.]

A storm, huh? [He leans forward a smidge with a smirk, holds up one hand, and waggles his fingers only a few inches from her face, channeling a bit of his psychic energy into visible pinkish glimmers that dance around his fingers.]

And you're not even gonna include your ole pal Quentin? Someone like me offering to help, you can't pass that up, right?