Usually, it only takes him five minutes to do this kind of thing. But this deal is last minute, and after twenty minutes, Emma's restless. Jerhattan's gotten a lot of rain recently, and the bench by the door is too wet to sit on, so she's just leaning awkwardly against the wall while she waits. There isn't even anyone to talk to; the office is totally dead on weekends. So Emma dips a toe in a nearby puddle and starts drawing patterns on the ground. It's something to do, at least.
Well, the Very Official man is officially very lucky, too. Noel considers himself also very lucky, even though he was the one who was shot. He's immortal. He can take it. Better him than someone else, even if it stings like a bitch. He stumbles a bit from the bullet, and he'll have a bruise, but that's the worst of it.
"Ow," he growls, looking for the shooter. Fuck subtlety, someone's got a gun, and his summoner is in the line of fire, if she dies he can't stop the gunman. First priority: protect the squishies.
He picks up the car. He's very fast about this, but when he sets it down in between the squishies and the gunman he's got enough practice to not damage it. Something big and made of metal to hide behind, sure, but if he can avoid it he won't break someone's car. "Behind this, all of you. I'll take care of it."
And up he flies. Where is the idiot who thought shooting someone in front of him was a good idea?
Meanwhile, Bigshot's entourage has formed a defensive shield in front of him and are hustling him inside the vehicle. They seem to have a fair bit of practice with this scenario.
Emma just screams and clings to her father. There are gunshots and flying people and this is not okayyyy what is going on?!
Noel flies over, and lands on the rooftop.
"Hello," he says. "Do you have a good reason for trying to assassinate someone while he is standing by a bunch of innocent bystanders?"
His response is a confusing babble of anti-capitalist propaganda, religious sayings and clearly parroted political hype. If allowed to ramble long enough, his speech can be condensed into roughly "the government is evil and his corporation enables it and he must be removed for the good of mankind." He doesn't seem clear on how, precisely, removing this man in particular will help, but he sounds quite confident that it will. He also seems convinced that this plan is Approved By God, or at the very least some man going by the title Very Reverend Ponsit Prosit.
"What group do you work for?" he interrupts, when the idiot starts repeating himself.
"Okay. Well, if you don't mind, I am going to go take you back to people that vaguely resemble authorities, because I do not know enough about this shit to handle it properly."
Off the two of them float, back to the car. He leaves the gun, for now. He'll pick it up later if he wants it, but he'd rather not have a witness (crazy as he may be) seeing him taking it.
He mentally berates himself for flying now - Noel, you have a problem with disproportionate retribution. You did not need to break out the big gun to handle this, now you've gone and blown your cover as a special snowflake. Good job, genius. Ugh. He's very disappointed in himself. Getting shot is no excuse for sloppy handling of situations.
"Found the shooter," he calls, floating down with his prisoner. "Disarmed him. Didn't look like he had any immediate friends. Apparently part of the Faithful Brotherhood, though. Ring any bells?"
The man in the car barks something in Punjabi. The man nods and continues to Noel, "Mr. Ram wonders if you are on the Jerhattan Center's bodyguard roster? He has been in search of a new telekinetic guard since the station work began."
"You're welcome. Ah - no, I'm not." Awkward? Awkward. "Name's Noel, if I ever get added." He picks one of his fake last names, because he would like only people he trusts to have his actual last name, if they ever figure out summoning. "Noel Duval."
He looks at his captured crazy assassin.
"Can I trouble you to take care of, uh, him?"
He gently lowers the crazy person to the bystander.
"Good to know."
With the car pulled away, Emma and her father are left without their original cover. Emma's father seems a bit shell shocked still, but Emma manages a nervous smile at Noel. "Thank you for, uh..." she looks uneasily at her dad and switches to a random language. "I don't know about fairies, but thank you for protecting us."
"You're welcome," says Noel, in the fairy language (its name is Ensiriash) she picked. "I shouldn't have gotten that showy, I went a bit overboard. Oh well." Pause. "Well, since you no longer think I'm crazy - you're my summoner, which means that you're the only one that can put me back. No rush, there, I don't want to go back immediately, but, yeah."
"Well, I'm at least being crazy with you," Emma mumbles, half to herself. Talents are one thing, but Noel is bulletproof and flying. "So, um. Now what...? I guess you really don't care about the Center."
Emma's father frowns down at her. "English, please, Emma. You know the rules, it's not polite if you're not translating." He looks warily at Noel, but unfurls himself from around his daughter and stands to offer Noel a hand. "Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Duval." That will be all was unspoken but loud; his whole posture had tensed up.
Emma winces. She knows how her dad feels about Talent, but seriously? Of the available options, Noel was not the scary person here. She's not brave enough to scold him for it, but she nudges him sharply and looks entreating.