As attentive as could be, Elliot parsed all the incoming information.  Participating in the interrogation himself hadn't been something he bargained on, but it took but a few seconds for an idea to pop into his head concerning how to contribute.  His powers did not permit him an easy read of an enemy's knowledge or abilities, but in terms of persuasion, he envisioned a cunning use.  The scheme appealed to him on all levels—clever, simple, and morally gray.  Doing what must be done, no matter the cost, suited an antihero to a T.  For the moment, Elliot just watched.  As much as he loved the works of a certain H.P. Lovecraft, this metahuman appeared less 'cosmic horror' and more 'deranged pervert'.  The sentences that dribbled out of its mouth were the most banal chatroom cliches, the very stuff of little Zoey's first fan-fiction, and they irritated Elliot enough to banish all lingering reservations he held for enacting his plan.

The other wards, of course, didn't wait for him to have his say.  Tulpa's suggestion worked well enough with his own, and while she chimed in with her request for a restraint, Elliot moved over to a nearby desk.  He laid his hand on the chair and held firm, his power rushing through.  In a mere moment, the life-size piece of furniture was a minuscule model in the palm of his hand, only a few centimeters tall.  With it, he returned to his alleged allies, and remarked, [color=8F9779]“I shall partake as well.  Charisma and perception may very well be the spheres of these others, but my endeavor will be applying the pressure necessary to extract answers to whatever my compeers inquire.”[/color]