Morty knows he shouldn't be screwing around with multidimensional shit. It's dangerous, it's impractical, it's blah blah blah. But it's a potential key to unlimited energy, how does nobody see that? He's built a dimensional siphon (it kind of looks like a cardboard box with a funnel and a TI-84 taped to it, but it damn well works), keyed in the dimensional coordinates to a random plane, and by God he's going to use it.
He flips the switch and waits for the energy bar to fill up.
It does! It fills up very rapidly. Then it explodes, along with the box. There's rather more smoke than there should be, and once the smoke clears someone is standing there.
"Oh my," Morty says faintly.
(In the back of his mind he's also wondering how the threat assessment part of this interview is going to go. It would be sort of laughable to declare him not a threat at all even in a world with this much powerful magic; on the other hand they've got a bloody psychic who can verify pretty easily that he is really not interested in threatening people; on the other other hand he's well aware of how easily his intentions can be altered by circumstances. He definitely couldn't promise not to slaughter another vampire cult.)
"The threat assessment is not even slightly about the slaughter of vampire cults," Louis says. "Slaughter as many evil cultists as you like, so long as you take care with the bodies. We're concerned about the safety of the students, here. For instance, if a gentleman by the charming moniker of 'Powerhouse' decides that you 'look like a fag' and need correction for it, and tries to rearrange your delightful face, will he find himself crying for his mommy with a dislocated pelvis, or will he be found with a broken neck? Bearing in mind that many of the threatened parties attack with such speed that to retaliate you would most likely be acting on instinct, and bearing in mind that your instincts are those of an assassin."
All told, though, he'd really rather not test that theory.
"You don't give yourself enough credit," Louis notes. "But the amount of credit you should be giving yourself still isn't quite enough to let you roam around unsupervised. So, should you wish to wander the campus, you're going to need a guide-cum-bodyguard-cum-murdernanny. But the options are all fun and delightful people, so you shouldn't feel bad about it."
"There's also Ariel Kaltmann, or Stormhammer." Ariel pops up, bouncing smilily. "Very powerful. Very cheerful. Very good at taking things in her stride. Might wind up flirting with you, but mostly through violence, and she can take a hint."
The illusory pair high-fives, resulting in a shower of sparkles. Then they turn to Mark with vaguely shelter-puppy expressions. (Well, Ariel has a shelter-puppy expression. Peter's face is slightly ill-equipped for it, but he makes a valiant effort.)
But also: there is something intensely fucking familiar about Ariel. The hair, the face, the mannerisms, the name—? What the hell?
And he's torn between wanting to meet her and wanting to stay far the fuck away. On the one hand, maybe he could figure out what the hell (and maybe she will react to him the same way Ari did); on the other hand, the thought of someone reacting to him the same way Ari did is mildly terrifying, and he hasn't got the first clue of how to approach her or whether he even should, and emotions are confusing and make him want to find a depressing crypt to hide in.
The attractive four-armed monstrosity is probably the less complicated option. He didn't come with a flirtation warning.
"...you can tell her," sighs Mark. And if she wants to know how Louis knows that, Louis can provide as much of the surrounding context as she asks for, and Mark will just deal with whatever may result.
And all things considered, Mark would really prefer that Peter did not find out that Mark thinks he is cute.
"You said you can't read his mind," says Mark, "so I'm not going to assume you would be infallible at predicting his likely reaction."
Louis relates all this with his illusory puppet bearing a look of pious disinterest and a grin on every horrible fanged mouth. This really is his favorite hobby.
In-person Peter is even more attractive than the illusory version, it turns out.
Louis sniffs. "It was Marvin Gaye, you philistine."
Peter rolls his eyes and holds out the longer of his right hands. "Peter. Nice to meet you."
Mark shakes Peter's hand. "Mark. Likewise. I might mind Louis's idea of tact more if he wasn't so fucking adorable about it."