[He looks at the stone with an expression that's edging into disturbed. It took Brandon longer than some to get used to the changes in himself, which have wrought relatively few outward physical differences; but even so, they're changes he chose. Consequences he asked for. Not... this.]

Then what do I do?

[It's low, angry, leaning in close, wary of being seen appearing to argue-- the voice in the back of his mind still insists, this is such a lovely party! all your friends are here! everything important is here! have another hors d'oeurve! dance! go dance!]

Don't you dare tell me 'nothing.' I can gather the other Champions. We can return here. ...We could escape together now-- fight him on our turf, if he comes.

[Oh, Brandon, that's not how this works.]