He tilted his head at them calculatingly while holding his hands at his hips, almost judging their presence. His eyes glazed and the hold the "thing’ held on the knife faltered, but not enough for them to pull it away. Blankness surrounded him and he imagined rope. The rough, scratchy quality of it. The light brown color and the way it ties in knots; the flexibility. He imagined the way it felt when he was tied up to be tortured. He opened his eyes with the image in mind and used his "thing’ to make it real. With a light "pop,’ it came into existence and they both landed harshly on the ground with twin grunts, their feet and hands bound.