the closest thing to the definition i've got.

[Gregor] The Cab ride had been a terrifying ordeal.



They'd managed to bully a cab driver into accepting their ride, if only because of Gregor's insistent waving of the cash in a tightly bound fist and somewhat jolting air of discord that came with it. Henri was helped into the backseat with as little hand clasping as possible (Though at the loss of one of his sweater layers, thankfully turned to crackers and brushed aside while the Driver was honking off a passing car) and he took the shotgun seat.



Upon arrival, the cab had slowed at the curb and Gregor had all but thrust the money into his hand, change scattering generously across the fellows lap, even as he ripped the door open, both his and Henri's and rolled up his sleeves and put away his gloves, that she could grasp bare skin to help her out of the car without touching anything further.



Then the pair, Henri dressed still in his post-vintage jacket tied snugly around the waist and Gregor in an ancient L.A Raiders hoodie, dusting cracker crumbs off his shoulders and sleeves, wandered up to the apartment complex. The tall Altar peered back at Henri every so often, before scaling the porch and hovering near the intercom.



A frown lit his features, hesitating with a finger hovering over the button. Then-



bzzzz



[K. R. Jakes] The buzzer is oldfashioned. Has seen better days. The locks are newer, and look out of place. The brick the once-house now-apartment building's residents use to hold open the door is either not in use this time of night or has (finally) been removed completely from the vicinity. Bzzz. And another bzzz. And then, sounding sepia-scratched, old film-reel flickery, trick of the buzzer, trick of space, Kage's young voice: "Hello?" To her, a telephone just rang.



[Henri Bean] *Henri's narrow jaw had been working on nothing the entire trip. Eyes shut, hands balled into fists and pressed to her cheeks so as not to accidently touch something, she looked for all the world like some half naked autistic girl being manhandled into the cab by a terrifying older man. The cabbie would later assure himself his assumptions were false. Console himself with the overlarge tip, and puzzle over the cracker dust in the back seat. But he delivers the odd pair to Kage's apartment, and Henri finds herself standing outside a strangers home in her underwear, rocking from foot to foot anxiously. God she needed an energy drink. God she needed pants. Kage's voice filters scratchy through the intercom and wild blue eyes look to Gregor in worry. Was he Sure it was safe?*



[Gregor] "...Kage, it's Gregor. I-..." A beat, eyes falling on Henri, desperate perhaps not to make this seem like something more unpleasant then it was "-I'm really quite sorry to bother you tonight but...I found someone wandering the streets and she's...come under a sort of...sickness. One of us-" he adds hastily, facing crushing into a wince. A grimace. "-And I didn't know exactly how to...what to do with her...the problem..."



A sigh, shoulders slumping slightly, that odd resolute stare settling on Henri, tone of voice shifting to something resigned.



"...I didn't know who else to bring her to. She needs help and you're the closest thing to the definition I've got." A beat. "Sorry..."



[K. R. Jakes]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 5, 5, 7 (Failure at target 6)
to†K. R. Jakes



[K. R. Jakes]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 4, 6, 6, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 7)
to†K. R. Jakes



[K. R. Jakes] That echoing resonance of an intercom-on flicks off for a second. Then on, again: "It's fine. Hold on. I'll be right down." Then it flicks off, again. Gregor and Henri are left to their own devices for a couple of minutes. They might have time for a couple of words. The wind is wintry, scrapes across the frost-rimned yard; scratches around the building, and cold can burn, too, before the soft dream.



Then the door to the [once Victorian] house opens, and a woman is standing there who Henri has never seen before: pale-skinned, dark-eyed, red-haired, in pajama bottoms and a camisole. "Come on. It's freezing." She looks for a second at Gregor, at Henri, and then beyond them, see what else is waiting out there, and she opens the door wide, standing aside so they can both come on in.



[Henri Bean] *Reality was not agreeing with her right now. The building loomed, a menacing solid block of color, blocking out the moon, causing Henri to hunch her shoulders in an attempt to make her already diminutive form even smaller. The ground felt uneven and insubstantial, and traffic warbled lazily, like voices in a crowd. A figure arrives and turns into a redhead she doesn't recognize. Henri makes to hid her eyes, reaching for a sort of security blanket thats no longer atop her fuzzy little head. Teary eyed suddenly as she blurts.*



I lost my bloody goggles!



*Actually, she'd turned them into chocolate and dropped them. But that was beside the point.*



[Gregor] "...Thank you."



Something heartfelt. The sort of sensation that gets across when one is used to begging for scraps and pennies and being thankful for just that. His smile is timorous but genuine and he turns from Kage quickly to regard Henri, hands flickering through a half-dozen gestures that speak of a half dozen things he doesn't quite know what to do with. His features are a storm of scowl (at the situation), frown (at the young girl) and worry (for the future).



As the Water works threaten to binge again, Gregor's face goes slightly spastic and he takes a middling step forward toward Henri, remembering an instant later to crush himself smaller for her sake, jangling oddly with metallic clinks in the process.



"...I know." Reassuring with a weak smile, a hand held out before her eyes. For her to take. For her to grasp.



"...I promised, remember? It's warm inside. It's quiet and there's no one to bother you. Can sit this out for a time and it'll...it'll go away." Failing conviction for a second. Then- "You'll be safe."



[K. R. Jakes] "I'm sorry," Kage says, when Henri's eyes fill with tears (again [it looks like again]). Just inside the door, there are stairs. Just up the stairs, as well Gregor knows, is another floor, and on that other floor is K. R. Jakes' apartment, which is about the worst kept secret in the Awakened community at present. "Are they findable? What exactly happened? I'm Kage, by the way. Kage Jakes. ... uhm. I probably have some clothes that'll fit you."



You'll be safe, Gregor says, and Kage doesn't dispute that. Her expression is touched with concern; behind the concern, a question [and wariness (not dominant)].



And once Gregor and Henri are in, she closes the door, makes good and certain that it is closed all the way, that the lock, for whatever good that does, clicks in place. And she'll follow them up the stairs, if up the stairs they go, bouncing past once they're actually by her apartment's door to open that.



[Henri Bean] Hey Kage.. Nice to meet you mate. .... I'm Henri.



*Its said with all the dismal enthusiasm as one might give the aunt that pinches your cheeks and buys you the same snowman sweater every year. Small hands slip both to Gregor's hand as Henri moves with him. His coat hangs heavily off her hips, smurf underwear flashing as she tries to navigate stairs. A heroic task as they seem to move beneath her feet like something from a haunted funhouse. More than once she lunges forward, grimey nails digging hard into the tall man's palms as she trips and tries to catch herself without using her hands. She can't tell where they're going, aside from a place thats "Safe"*



[Gregor] (Perception 4 (disturbances) + Awareness 3: Does it still feel like Him?)
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 5, 5, 8, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6) Re-rolls: 2



[Gregor] Gregor's attentions are somewhat diminished from anything beyond the immediate situation, but as they scale the steps inside Kage's apartment, he offers a lowered tone (courtesy for neighbours);



"I found her in the Mile. She was wandering through the crowds d-" His frown darkened, eyes flicking away from Kage (evasive) to measure the steps for Henri. Calloused palms and hands are thick, making the bite of nails hardly noticeable. "She was doing something and it went wrong. Things began falling apart in the middle of the crowd when I came around. We got her together and away from eyes long enough to figure out what to do..."



And obviously Kage knew what they had decided.



"I'm really sorry about this..." up the last step, eyes and features flashing concern for the circumstance. Apologies were easily genuine but navigating a young woman with one hell of a 'Midas Touch' was another thing. He pauses outside of Kage's door and peers in, a sharp breath collecting in his chest before exhaling with a relieved sigh.



He glances at Henri again, navigating her through the door as carefully as he can manage.



"...She can't touch anything right now. It's..." Confusion in his features, head shaking "...rather complicated."



[K. R. Jakes] Gregor pauses on the threshold of the apartment, and Kage knows why (he was so terrified [which he?]). The apartment no longer feels like a rent between worlds. The apartment no longer feels like punishing heat, to the sensitive; there is no sense that Hell was here, that Hell was here, and shaping the world. No, nor Hunger, nor the nervous, before-a-storm crackle of energy that attended another (uninvited) magi's willworkings. The only resonance in Kage's apartment right now is her own: amorous (burning [shining], oh, beloved things) and draining (all things wither [hunger, leech] away), perfectly balanced, neatly juxtaposed. The apartment smells like burning beeswax and just-baked cookies and maybe coffee and maybe winter, a window open somewhere.



Just through the door, another step. Watch out. Hardwood floors. The living room, tall-ceiling'd, lots've wall hangings, and Kage's house is medievalism [pre-Raphaelite] mingled with technological comfort [best sound system, ever]. There are stacks of books kind've everywhere, haphazzard over by the wall, as if she'd half-heartedly cleaned them recently -- which she had indeed done. She has a little fireplace, and it used to be a home for books, but she decided she missed the heat and cleaned the books out and got some firewood and had a fire going for a while. There is a stuffed bunny on the dining room table, which is over that-a-way, next to a laptop, which is open. Kitchen is opposite living room, and there's a hall not-quite-straight-ahead, a couple of doors, it's a zigzag hall. End of hall, another spill of stairs, but this time more than just one -- leading up, around a half-corner, another door visible and open. Violin, set on an old chest, violin's bow next to that, musician's stand of walnut beside that.



Plenty of things for Henri to grab onto and then! Oh then. It would be a damned shame.



Gregor explains. Kage frowns, and says, "Stop apologizing, Gregor. Really, I don't mind. You guys can sit on the couch or -- Henri, do you want to try and sleep it off? You can take my bed." Gregor says, she can't touch anything right now, and Kage, who has closed the door, is trying to remember what kind've clothes she might have that will fit a petite little skinny nothing like Henri, lifts a hand to rub the back of her neck [cool (radiant) competence]. "What happens?"
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 4, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)



[Henri Bean] Dun think I can sleep mate. Less a blokes going to hold my hands up all bloody night.



*She kicks at what looks to be a clump of something on the floor, but that turns out simply to be the floor. Henri jerking forward and nearly faceplanting, legs suddenly akimbo in thigh high ruby style socks. Delicate birdlike features contort into an indignant scowl. At least she's not crying.*



Fucking Hell! Augh!



*She blinks large eyes and tries to get her bearings in the shifting nightmare of Kage's apartment. It might be lovely, but its all shape and texture and distorted space to an etherite, the manic confusion of discombobulation hanging about her person like a heavy cloak.*



[Gregor] Henri swings to the floor and Gregor pivots on one tall leg, heel digging into the ground to pass that meager weight into a sitting position on the hardwood. He maintains his grip on both her hands, staring at the space around Henri then at the space around himself before puddling into a crouched form infront of her. His eyes find Kage, a loud exhale flooding from tired features. The darkness beneath his eyes are like bruises. Telling tales of the hours awake.



"Things...turn to...food." He says it like he sounds insane, flitting a slightly embarrassed stare off at a nearby wall before returning to Kage. "...Anything thing she touches with her hands that...well that isn't living I think...turns into a type of food or other. Goggles turned into chocolate. Made salad out of her belt and-" He fishes into one of his track pants pockets and pulls out a dull green gummi bear, half-frozen from the weather outside.



"...This used to be her pants." He pops the gummi into his mouth, taking up Henri's free hand again after.



[Henri Bean] M'sorry.



*Mutters the skinny half naked Ether-kid, resting her head on her knees and sniffling. All she wanted to do was find dylan and now her stupid hands were turning things into brussel sprouts and she had no goggles and her EvE machine was gone and she was hungry and cold and the world was jumbled and she didn't have any pants and everything in the whole world sucked and she wanted to curl up and cry but if she did she'd turn the floor to beef or something and they'd all plummet to their stupid dooms. She sniffles again wetly, voice thick with impending tears.*



M' a damn grocery gremlin.



[K. R. Jakes] Things turn to food.

Of course they do.



This would probably amuse the hell out of Kage, while at the same time it baffled her, if she were being told this story in retrospect. Remember that time? But that time is now, and she doesn't find it particularly funny. Not when Henri almost falls -- and the instinct is to catch her. Gregor is closer; he gets there first. He's crouched in front of Henri, a rather ominous figure, even for all his concern, holding the tiny, birdlike girl's hands, and she's trying not to cry again. "Whoa, don't eat that," Kage says, when Gregor pops the gummi into his mouth. "You don't know how stable that transformation is. Maybe the changes aren't permanent? Aw, Henri. I'm sorry we're meeting under such shitty circumstances, but this will pass. What were you trying to do when ..."



Kage looks at Henri for a second, and her dark eyes tarnish right up [concern (precipice)], darken with smoke. No. She is not going to question her again. "I'll be right back. I'm getting you clothes. And I'll hold your hand, if you'd like," a hesitation -- something delicate, balanced on a thorn's edge; look off into the distance.



Maybe she could just slip an impulse to not close her hands on anything for the night right into Henri's mind, eh? It isn't quite in Kage, who is a very courteous, very rule-bound, creature to do it on the sly [tricks (crossroads) being only appropriate on certain occasions] and she doesn't want to ask permission yet.



And with that, Kage disappears down the hall, a hand lifted if Gregor or Henri say anything else after her. Gone! For now.



[Gregor] ...Gregor freezes mid-chew and promptly spits the gummi back out into his lap, where it lands on one of his pants legs and sits there. His gaze narrows and the frown returns, eyes lifting to regard Henri with a quizzical almost smile. All nerves and jitters, he swings her hands slightly in his larger grip.



"I guess that's what you meant when you said you couldn't even eat it." He chuckles. Attempts to anyway and fails, sighing loudly and folding down to settle onto the carpet infront of Henri. It's only as Kage skates off into someplace, Gregor's attention lifting to follow the willowy young Orphan that that seriousness returns to his features.



"I know what you were doing..." He's staring at her now, the puzzlement turned to something...severe. Intense. Troubled. "...And I know who you've been following and...Henri, I've been doing the same for while now. Losing sleep and...a few other things besides..."



This wasn't threatening. It wasn't even demanding. It sounded more helpless then anything else. The turn of his eyes and the furrow of his brow, a man stretched years beyond his actual age, searching over the young Etherite's own face for some sign of understanding (I was there once, I know/No, Gregor/Yes...yes I do).



"...You can't keep tracking him. You don't want to find what's there..."



[Henri Bean] *Blue eyes rise above her knees to peek at Gregor as he spits out the gummi bear. Teary eyed as she inquires.*



I more meant cause they'd turn into other things if I tried to get my mittens on em. Do the snozberries at least taste like snozberries mate?



*Her hands are swung, friendly, less like she's being held prisoner. Thin expressive liips venturing a wan smile. One murdered in its infancy as he stares and grows serious. He knows about Dylan. He knows and he thinks he's bad too. Her eyes flash wide and hurt as she makes to jerk her hands away and crawl towards the blurry trapazoid she's half certain is the door.*



[Gregor] "Stop!"



He clutches at her hands. There is no strength there to crush. Just a firmness to keep. Keep them seated. Settled here. He stares at her face, desperate to turn in any number of other directions, head trembling on the stalk of his neck as he leans forward.



"Stop...stop, please...please..." Begging now, softer voice. Hands around wrists, palm to palm, elbows crooked enough to give him leverage.



"Henri, listen...He's hurting people!" It isn't a shout. It isn't even loud. Just that same firmness. That same fear, carving aside the plunge they'd just taken.



"He's...what he's doing...It hurts." Soft again. A game of vocal leap frog.



[Henri Bean] He's always done that! You don't know why he's doing that! They could have a thing! You don't know!



*She tries to jerk her hands away to little avail, Henri not a strong creature by any means. Dylan was hurting people. Well "people" were tying to kill him! She jerks her hands again and bursts into tears, flopping limply to the side and curling her knees up tight as she can. Gadgets prod her dully inside her borrowed coat/skirt arrangement.*



You can't k-kill him. He- he's my, he



*The tiny Etherite hiccups, red faced as her shoulders shake. This was Henri Bean. Ether Queen. Child prodigy. Shaper of reality. Inventor of the Impossible. And her nose was running.*



[K. R. Jakes] These'll do. These, being a pair of very old, draw-string pajama bottoms. The ones she's wearing are gray (clouds). The ones she found are pale blue and striped a darker blue. There's a stain of ink on the thigh and the hem. And, mrr? What exactly is going on out in the living room? Gregor's voice may not be loud, but there was a sudden peak in intensity; it doesn't quite draw her out. The for-Henri pants get tossed over her shoulder. Those scarlet socks of the girls'll probably shine right through. Kage eases back out of her bedroom, and Henri's yelling, trying to pull away from Gregor, and Gregor's holding on, and the Orphan raises her eyebrows and heads straight for them. Because this? This is not right, at all. "Hey. Nobody here is killing anybody. Who and what are you guys talking about?" Not that she couldn't necessarily take an educated guess. The look she gives Gregor is eloquent. What did you do [say]?



[Gregor] He holds her wrists and hands as she tires herself out, curling into a ball of tears and upset. His face falls five years further, grey peeking at the temples in two days time. He doesn't move at first, watching her break and-



This is normal, do you see-/Lying/-this is real and it hurts and this is-/Gregor/-this is-/Gregor/-this is-/Stop!/-What You Do!



His teeth are grit and his jaw clenched, eyes remaining clear and unblinking on the small shape. Then he's inhaling sharply, pulling gently at elbows and wrists until they settle on his knee, still clasped in his hands. Kage enters and he doesn't notice, until her words cut through the room. His gaze lifts slowly, inhaling, eyes closed (coward) for a moment, before flicking open to meet the Orphan's eyes.



"...She's been hunting The Inferno. Trying to track him down." A beat. "...I told her that was dangerous. I...that's how I found her."



[Henri Bean] He's not a stupid inferno his name is Dylan and he's my Friend!



*Her FRIEND. She's hauled up, teary eyed and attempting a feeble glare as she hiccups, breath escaping her. She tries to push Gregor away, shoving at his chest even as he holds her delicate wrists.*



[STR! feeble shove attempt. prepare for pudding sweater! Enh!]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 3, 5 (Failure at target 6)



[K. R. Jakes] The Orphan's (fine) features are now as grave as it is possible to be. Not just grave -- also solemn [not just solemn (also ardently angry)]. Henri is struggling, struggling, little fly, and Gregor -- Kage crouches next to Henri, too, and she puts her palm on the girl's forehead for a second. Just long enough to try and meet Henri's eyes, to bring the girl's gaze toward her. "Hey. Hey. Listen: Good. Dylan Willis needs friends. Who else is going to care about what happened to him? Please, just calm down; do you think this Dylan would want you to go running out into Chicago's winter, bare-ass and drawing Spooks to you like a bugzapper draws bugs? Please. Just. Deep breaths."



[Gregor] ...and this is why he'd sought Kage. Because she could make sense of a situation that...Gregor couldn't. Few others probably could. He remains where he is, as much an offer for Henri's wrath (though his hands remain fettered to her wrists) as he was a bastion against which to settle. He didn't say anything, simply watched the space between the pair and accepting an observers roll.



[Henri Bean] *Her hand curl to fists and she wimps in terror as Kage touches her forehead. She was going for the brain, she was sure of it. She was going to jedi mind trick her. But nothing happens. No hungry violation of her precious mind. No ravenous will to fight through. Just Kage pleading she breath. So Henri tries, slumping small. A tangle of skinny limbs and fuzzy hair on the floor, hands caught up in Gregors grasp.*



[K. R. Jakes] Kage has a niece and a nephew. They are both young. Kage is also a big sister (and a younger sister [middle child]). So, with minimum awkwardness, she uses the hem of the pajama bottoms she'd brought out for Henri to wear, to wipe off some of that snot. Which is disgusting, god, and Henri isn't even related, and quite frankly, Kage doesn't have enough care to give out to everybody, just because. But this is special: Henri is dangerous right now, and Gregor brought her, and Henri was Dylan's friend.



"You're really his friend?" she says, as if to confirm. "You knew him? Who told you they were trying to kill him?" A beat. "Do you want to know what I know of him?" After all: just who the hell is this Kage person, anyway?



[Henri Bean] *The Etherites head bobs, breath shuddering more steadily. Her nose is dabbed and she'd burn in embarrassement later, remembering this whole ordeal. But right now Henrietta is appreciative of the gesture. Its not like she can wipe at tears or snot with her hands wrapped in Gregor's.*



He's my f-friend.



*Its repeated shakily as she shuts her eyes and swallows. WWDD? What would Dylan Do? Punch someone. Yell. Storm out. Well, none of those had worked so far for her, so she was on her own in this one. A sniffle as she sucks on her bottom lip, before blurting in one long heavily accented run on sentence.*



Ashley said. He went missing and His dad came to ask me to find him and I gave wharil his shirt.. I GAVE wharil his shirt and then my mum... she.. kicked ..it. So I w-went back to NewZy and then I came back and My landlord was keepin my 'ventions right? So I was yellin an Ashley found me an said that Dylan'd gone mad an' they was going to kill 'im. So I ran and she tried to get in my melon, but I rattled me dags, and now I'm fuckin banjanxed an laid up an' I gotta find him before they do an' make him dead!!!



*The teenager looks from Kage to Gregor in teary desperation. Snorting back a drip from her nose.*



[Gregor] ...And Gregor stares down at Henri, Kage forgotten for a split instant of unrecognizable something on the tall man's features. The room begins to creep...



"...She what?" Something quiet. Confused. Unknowingly, his hands tighten around her wrists. Not painful. Not yet. Head shaking gently one side to another.



[K. R. Jakes] [uh, Gregor? wtf, there? Percept + Awareness-as-Empathy.]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)



[Henri Bean] She tried to take over my brain! I need my brain!



*Henri crows, swallowing hard.*



[K. R. Jakes] Henri's accent means that Kage needs to listen closely to her in order to understand and it is only in context that 'rattled me dags' and 'banjanxed' make sense to her. The Orphan (by choice [no desire to turn back]) lifts her eyes to Gregor, briefly studies his expression, and she reaches over to touch his shoe, to press down (stay). F'ing Hermetics. Kage, however, still has her composure; she may be sorry, may be sad, may be intense -- but she is also poised [burning amor].



"Okay." That's all. To the story. "So you're a Traditionalist. Muse on fire of invention and it burns bright as day, luminiferous aether, the Gentleman Inventors, you're that, right? Machine Poet? Do you ...still... have anything on you that can read the truth? I want to say something -- but you don't know me. I know you don't have reason to trust. If you don't: please, just listen. I wouldn't lie. And I won't reach into your head without permission either."



[Henri Bean] Got nuffink'll tell a lie from truth. Dun need em with the robots. Nobots don't lie much.



*Which is to imply that sometimes, they do. Henri looks to Gregor. Terrifying Gregor who no longer seemed too terrifying. Just tired. Tired like she was tired. She slumps against him. He kinda reminded her of her dad. If her dad felt too much instead of too little. The Etherite nods and shuts her eyes, muttering.*



Henri Bean. Ether Queen. Dun go in my brain.



[Gregor] "...She can't do th-" It's almost as if he's about to start yelling at Henri. Almost. The tone is there, without the volume yet. Kage's finger on his dusky shoe. He bites it. Hard and rears back, something more familiar with the man flickering back onto those features; nerves. Caution. Concern.



"...Sorry." Hurried, releasing the tension on Henri's wrists, almost loosening them completely. A pause, releasing a breath past flared nostrils. "Sorry Sorry-" Flicking glances between the two women.



"It's...look, it's been a long night. A long few weeks I think..." Gregor's looking around at Kage's apartment, frowning again, this time with more urgency. "I think if she just managed to get some rest she'd-" Silently admonishing, then turning to Henri again.



"...Tonight's been hard. I promised i'd take you somewhere safe and Kage-" he looks up at the orphan. A weak smile, then down at the little Etherite "-Kage is a good person. She can take care of you for the moment...for..." A pause. "...She can give you a better eye about this...Dylan fellow i don't know about..." Something there. Pushed back. Lost again.



"...If you go by her story and questions you might even get something of what you were looking for out there." He's looking for something to appease her with. Something to stabilize. That urgency isn't going away, despite the mechanics of the smile and concern on his features.



[K. R. Jakes] "I won't. Just stay calm and use that brain, okay?"



They both look exhausted. Henri, Gregor. Kage is about to say something that she knows, without knowing Henri well at all, is going to go over very poorly, is going to cause a reaction [combustion (disaster)]. The truth hurts; the Etherite's mom died, and she was told her friend was mad and was going to be hunted down and killed, and now she's -- fucked up, and in Kage's apartment. So Kage doesn't say what she was going to say. Kage pauses, looking at them both, carefully, sharply. Then she exhales, deep sigh.



Says: "No. You're going to sleep. We'll talk when you wake up, and hopefully, hopefully, when you wake up you won't be turning things into food. C'mon, Gregor. Help me get Henri Bean," that name is a little familiar, isn't it, "into my room."



[Gregor] (Alright in the interest of mutual bed times: Gregor would probably do his best to stay awake and find a solution to Henri's hands doing minimal movement while she slept. Short of actually loosely binding her wrists close together so that her hands stay over her stomach and ribcage while she sleeps on her back? I've got nothing and that might not go over well *chuckles* but s'good place to call it.)



[K. R. Jakes] [credits! roll!]