The rap to the temple brought Trent back with a groan and a few curse words. He rubbed the sore spot and felt more like himself. He was suppose to be helping Galahad not bringing him down to his level, but the sounds, the music out here made him feel like he was home again. Still rubbing at his temple he watched the others interact and felt a little self conscious of that. He really only knew Zimmy, Galahad and Lee. The others he had interacted with inside the classrooms, or in Setzer's and Gideon's case when the former felt like dragging him out for physical activites or a random party to get the smaller boy to be more social. He grunted as  he lifted himself off the cold ground and looked a little confused when they were looking skyward.

"Zimmy... please tell me that's your fireworks..." he knew better of course. He couldn't hear the tone he always associated to her. It was odd looking up and seeing the airship in a fiery inferno of destruction. He let out a sigh whilst the other's where inspecting what best to do, Zimmy giving her report on the escape pod. Gideon and Galahad pointing out there weren't their nations ships. Trent didn't know what to really do, he did well on magic classes. Almost everything else got by with good graces and tact when answering questions. Shaking his doubts away and putting his grinning face at the others he couldn't help but laugh. "I didn't bring my phone..." He pulled at a tune in the mist and summoned ice to his hands as he walked towards the firepit and felt bad for Gideon he'd be destroying his project.

"Poor Lee," Trent called out laughing. "You should have had your fun." He stretched. Again he called to the Mist, this time to actually use it and not become it's pawn. He would PRAY no one asked about the dancing, the touching, the need to hear their notes played out. This time, he would control it. He brought his left hand down, his right hand he made in a grabbing motion at the flames of the fire. Exstinquished. The light he pulled from th e flames, letting the heat die out and called to his now teammates notes. Their clothing he weaved the light into, his hands making smaller motions as if threading a needle. He kept his eyes open and on his work. If there was other planes up there besides their own, he'd make them smaller targets. Ghostly if he needed to. 

"Gideon, remind me to thank your ancestors for the ghost stories of this place. There," he nodded at his work and smiled. "Try not to ruffle your clothing too much, it's a minor spell, won't last for long but it'll give you enough light of which to see enough in front of yourself to not run into a tree." He walked towards Lee, snagged the bottle out of his hand and took a sip. He handed it back, and walked towards the Vehicle of Evil. Did he mess with this enough to get the god awful sound it made to dissipate? He knew little of the monstrosity and decided to leave it to Galahad. He laughed when Gideon mentioned the party of Lee dancing. He had heard wild tales of that party to end all parties. He had stayed in the library, camped out with a book. By the Crystal, his life was boring until now. 

He turned to look through the forest towards the blaze and suddenly wondered something. Didn't the radio just mention the princess or something coming for the peace talks. He turned his attention back to the sky and decided this once, he'd lead and deal with the irrate group.

"I'd suggest getting into the vehicle now," he let the magic in their clothing go, allowing for what little he understood of Galahad's innate magic whatever theory take over. He still kept tabs on it, since if he fully turned his attention away from it, the light would wink out. His mind still raced, thinking along the lines of the books he was always reading. What if it WAS the peacetalks being stopped before they could begin? He couldn't shake the thought, he was possibly overthinking the talkshow radio DJ's words over too much. Things like that happened in books and short films, not real life, right?!

He didn't wait for a response, he got into the truck, took his seat and leaned his head back. Let them decide on what to do. When and if they needed a major magic attack done, they'd need him. For now, he felt the urge to just drink and forget their evening was interrupted by a giant ball of death.