Jake scowled. "Cry your pardon, but, your friend shouldn't tell kids that he's planning to take them away. The rest of us--" He paused at the arrival of the younger Molly, who clearly did recognize the Asian man, and corrected himself. "Molly and I don't know who he is."
The plate was still in hand, but it had gone from being a weapon to simply being an item. A bit of cookery that happened to be in his hand. A weapon wasn't in a hand, a weapon was in the eye, the mind, and the heart. So it was a plate that Jake held limply in one hand as he listened. And Touched.
The red haze had passed quickly when the man identified himself as a friend - moreover, when Micah had identified him as such. And along with the faint nausea that always followed that rise to the killing edge, the senses that washed through Jake couldn't have been his own.
Creepy? I was...
Of course he was creepy. He was a twelve year old kid talking about killing - and nearly acting on it as well! He was a kid, just a boy... and a gunslinger. Now that the others had seen this side of him, this side that Roland had created, would they ever unsee it? Jake doubted it.
He slid the last plate back into the silk-lined satchel and sat on the ground, Oy stepping into his lap, lip still curled and looking at Hiro, until Jake's hand on his back settled him enough for the billy-bumbler to cease growling. So much for being just a kid again.
He remembered that feeling of foreboding all too well. He still felt it. "Yeah," Jake echoed, looking at Molly. "What happened to Niki?"