Frederick rolled his eyes dramatically at Match, which was probably a lot less effective than he could have hoped, seeing as he had no discernible pupils to give that eyeroll effect, aside from the slight fluttering of the eyelids and the swing of the head that accompanied the gesture. "Yeah, whatever," he replied dismissively, walking away a few more steps. He was making the world's slowest getaway, his hands full with his bags and him having to kick the box down the hall. Hardly a cool exit.
"Oh, please. You heard me," he began to say, but he stopped in his tracks when the hasty, backhanded offer registered. "Wait. If I want to move in so bad?" he snarled, rounding up on Match so fast, one of his bags nearly flew out of his hands. He yanked his arm back hard, and a flash of pink nearly blinded him. With a loud blinking sound, his bag disappeared into thin air. "Aw, goddammit! Look what you did now! God, you moron!" he growled at no one in particular, maybe at Match or maybe at himself. His secondary mutation was the ability to teleport inorganic material, but it had been at least a year since he had done something like that by accident.
He glared murderously at Match even as he tried to remember what place he had been thinking of when the damn bag disappeared. He really truly hoped he hadn't been thinking of his old home, or one of the apartments he had lived in while in Nevada or California. That was a long freaking way to go fetch a bag from. Hopefully it would be in his previous assigned room, or in his car. Or... at the firing range, where he had fantasized chasing Match down with a gun just then. Dammit!