Bastille started laughing within moments of joining them, having deduced her crudely crafted targets to be the likeness of Becky boy. "Nice work, Etty," he drawled with a grin, looking amused as he eyed the damage her lightning strikes had done. Idly, he wondered what it would be like to see this done to the real deal -- Becky's ghostly form was some form of electricity, wasn't it? -- and grinned roguishly at the thought. "Were your powers inactive before?" He was referring to her statement -- "back in business" implied they'd been out, and idly, he wondered how she had managed to yet them under her control once more. Might be useful information.

Bastille considered that. He supposed it made sense — he knew others could burn out their powers fairly easily, without stores of energy; even he had to take breaks when he really pushed his limits. Then never exactly left, though — they were always simmering under the surface, reading to explode even when he was exhausted. Bast wouldn’t be surprised if they were capable of literally killing him through overexertion. He arched a brow, and added, ”Huh. Must have used them pretty aggressively, if they decided they needed a break.” He seemed more curious than judgmental. Besides — why would he care if she had used them in excess?

He grinned at Suite’s arrival, and added, ”Now we just gotta aim for the real thing, next time. It’s not like we can kill him, so he can’t complain.”