Carlisle (yes, he is marginally pleased Kabal called him his name rather than any of the other insulting monikers he's come up with) groans quietly, sloshing his way over to the door and placing his hands on it.

"You seem so confident this will work this time," he mutters, closing his eyes and focusing his energies before him. He keeps his control over them, recalling what happened last time -- and the way Kabal nearly crushed his head against the rot-resistant door to snap him out of it. He likes his head in one piece, thank you very much.