At the sound of an intruder, Erik went still, turning to face the door. The objects hung in suspended animation, surrounding Erik like an army poised to attack. But when he recognized the young man standing in his doorway, his grip slackened. Though the contents of his kitchen still precariously hovered in the air, some fraction of the tension seemed to drain from them as Erik's shoulders sagged, allowing them to sway gently in the breeze from the broken window.
He paused, taking in the sight of the teenager in his doorway. Though he had spoken to Billy Kaplan briefly on the network, he had never heard his voice, or seen more of him than was visible in an icon. He knew that his grandson had his mother's powers -- the ability to bend the fabric of reality as it suited him -- but little else. So he was rather expecting the young man with the power to rebuild the universe to be sort of imposing.
"...wearing?" He finished, his brow wrinkled in obvious distaste. Erik wasn't entirely sure what the significance of a Disney princess was, but he very much doubted that it was something any grandson of his should be participating in.