The Balladeer darts a quick side-glance at her, not sure if he should be grateful or not. He doesn't want her in any danger. But he hadn't known what to do last time they cornered him, and even with Booth alone, he doesn't know what to do now. Having someone else on his side changes things a little.
"I appreciate your concern, miss," Booth says, instantly flicking the charm back on. "But he made himself a part of this a long time ago - "
"Okay, I wouldn't put it like that - "
" - and NOW," Booth raises his voice over the Balladeer's objections, "he's just gonna have to deal with it."
He still hasn't drawn a weapon. That should be comforting, but it almost strikes the Balladeer as odd. Booth is not the sort of man to kill bare-handed; that would be uncivilized. He's certainly got a flair for the dramatic, though, and there is very little that could be more dramatic than cornering them in the damn Lincoln Memorial. He's probably just got some kind of monologue he wants to deliver before moving onto any actual violence.
In what he hopes is a subtle manner, he reaches out to take Greta's hand in his. "But you're right," he says aloud, contrite. "I shouldn't be slacking on the job like this. History waits for no man. We'll just be going, then, lots to report on!"
And he tugs on Greta's arm, and everything goes sideways for a second, before going dark altogether. There's a feeling like pushing through a curtain, and then the pair is standing in the lobby of what appears to be a reasonably nice hotel, being completely ignored by everyone present. The Balladeer breathes a sigh of relief. "Ohhhh, wow. That really worked!"
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"I appreciate your concern, miss," Booth says, instantly flicking the charm back on. "But he made himself a part of this a long time ago - "
"Okay, I wouldn't put it like that - "
" - and NOW," Booth raises his voice over the Balladeer's objections, "he's just gonna have to deal with it."
He still hasn't drawn a weapon. That should be comforting, but it almost strikes the Balladeer as odd. Booth is not the sort of man to kill bare-handed; that would be uncivilized. He's certainly got a flair for the dramatic, though, and there is very little that could be more dramatic than cornering them in the damn Lincoln Memorial. He's probably just got some kind of monologue he wants to deliver before moving onto any actual violence.
In what he hopes is a subtle manner, he reaches out to take Greta's hand in his. "But you're right," he says aloud, contrite. "I shouldn't be slacking on the job like this. History waits for no man. We'll just be going, then, lots to report on!"
And he tugs on Greta's arm, and everything goes sideways for a second, before going dark altogether. There's a feeling like pushing through a curtain, and then the pair is standing in the lobby of what appears to be a reasonably nice hotel, being completely ignored by everyone present. The Balladeer breathes a sigh of relief. "Ohhhh, wow. That really worked!"