Spire's seemingly genuine interest in what Montana had to say certainly inspired the man to be a touch forthright. Had their meeting remained uninterrupted, Montana planned on answering what questions he could. They had freed him from the box after all, their intentions for him were irrelevant. 

Toby's firm warning for Spire set the final peace of the puzzle into place when it came to the identification of the boy's power. Which in essence seemed to be gift identification. That would leave Spire to be, at least from Montana's deduction, the bruiser out of the two. The heavy hitter to compliment the other boys nuanced ability. Or perhaps his was as equally nuanced. Two specialists wandering the Ash. 

Either way, a psychic and a teleporter spelled trouble for them both. If the psychic had the aptitude to influence and control the minds of multiple persons they could make quick work of them all. Especially if they were both allies.

The only option was to slay the psychic and lure the teleporter into a repetitive pattern. 

Provided Toby was telling the truth,

and providing that these two were hostile to begin with. The nature of his gift meant that rather then strike first, he had the luxury of waiting to see how the situation panned out. 

[color=slategray]"I trust that you both understand the nature of my power means I would be a staunch ally, or a troublesome foe should I fall under the Psychic's control."[/color]

The sound of mortar and block being obliterated rent through the air with a ferocity that rung through the buildings around them, shaking the aging monoliths with such force that a few of the weaker structures collapsed in on themselves, causing small dust clouds to dot up in his peripheral vision. If he hadn't been conversing with Toby and Spire, he would have investigated. Perhaps even gotten in the middle of the conflict if it captured his fancy. 

Instead, he'd wait to confront the Psychic.

His hand moved to the inside of his overcoat, where it wrapped around the hilt of a throwing knife nestled snugly in a shoulder holster. The decades had honed his opening throw into a fluid motion that hit it's apex long before most could draw a weapon. 

It was a simple precaution, he didn't think to use it unless he felt his body being hijacked.