Basilic woke after what seemed like a lifetime of death. He was groggy, but full of energy. He stood, and staggered immediately. He saw Phoebe sitting in her seat, and smiled to himself.
But then he heard a commotion later down in the bus. Suddenly, an intense anger filled him. He may not be psychic, but he thought he recognised a kindred spirit in the newcomer. Determined that he wouldn't be left out, and eager to help this outnumbered... Friend... He staggered down to the woman who had thrown him into his seat by standing there.
"Oi. What do you think you're doing?! You think it's EASY to talk to that arsehole? He probably provoked him. Sit down and don't try and rule the bus again," the steel in his voice hard enough to smash diamonds. She looked straight back into his sunglasses, as if about to argue. Deciding he'd said his piece, he stalked down the rest of the aisle to Marco's seat.
Then, he realised he had his fist clenched in his pocket. Removing it, he found that his hand was curled protectively around the Blob. Bugger it, he thought. He prised his fingers off the thing, using his other hand, and found the pain almost unbearable. How long was I holding that thing?! he cursed. He then looked back and found the female with Power staring daggers at him. Smirking to himself, he turned around and looked long and hard into Marco's eyes.