The blankets are shoved into Leo's hand, jumpstarting his mind enough to let go of the book. It clatters to the floor without ceremony, but at the moment he just doesn't care. His eyes are quietly tracking Michelangelo's movements; more specifically, the small, orange wings sprouting impossibly from the youngest's shell.

Leonardo's mouth draws into a tight line. Of all the dimensions and worlds they've been pulled into, he can't ever remember them gaining an extra appendage of any sort. He opens his mouth to ask another question when Mikey circles around him.

Suddenly his little brother raises some kind of alarm, and he feels a set of hands thrust onto his carapace. The sudden bump knocks the fog right out of his mind. He turns sharply towards Mike, a palm reaching up and over his shoulder to try and locate the source of all the panic. He finds nothing but the rough groove of his ugly scar - but that's certainly nothing out of the ordinary for Leo.

"What? What's wrong?"