ioduanlogs | May Catch-All

Entry tags:

May Catch-All

Characters: Rutile + You!
Date: Starting yesterday and continuing through May!
Location: The Dreaming Bridge, Breakwater Wing, and adjacent areas
Situation: Arriving in Aifaran, new accommodations, Faith 4, and maybe more
Warnings/Rating: None, totally PG. You could let your kid cousin read this stuff.

A ▸ NEW ARRIVAL | open

[ First moments in Aifaran. ]

A couple of blocks away from the Dreaming Bridge is a scene of semi-controlled chaos: a couple of Verdant Sentries and well-meaning passersby try to assist the newest Dreamfolk, who seems determined to ignore placating words. If you would just go to the Dreaming Bridge like everyone else, the natives say; if you would just comply with protocol, all your questions would be answered -

"Don't patronize me!" the Dreamfolk snaps in one of the sentry's faces, audible across the street. From here their hair, glimmering gold and crimson in the sun, hangs wild about their face, and their lab coat is dirty and disheveled. Fortunately, Rutile doesn't seem dangerous: they carry no weapons, and they're actually on the smaller side of your average human. They just seem pissed.

The second sentry reaches in to separate the two of them and Rutile knocks their hand away. "Get away from me!" they hiss, "I don't need an escort!" The sentries seem unconvinced.

Scratch that about the danger: the situation isn't looking good.

B ▸ BUTTERFLY BLESSINGS | open

[ Arriving in Breakwater # 03, Faith 4 ]

The room is sparsely furnished, but still more than Rutile is used to: three beds, as many tables, a shelf with books with names such as Baby's First Spiritual Experience with Tu Vishan and Slime Molds of Konryu: A Field Guide.

None of the beds seem mussed or even occupied, despite the twilight fading fast, so Rutile approaches the one closest to the open window and kneels carefully on the mattress. Despite its flimsiness - it's certainly not quartz - it holds their weight. Rutile curls up on one end and tentatively leans their head against the wall, letting their gaze fall across the courtyard below.

Rutile is on the verge of falling asleep - from lack of sunlight, from an emotional hangover - when a tiny mottled butterfly alights on the windowsill. Moments later, more have arrived, fluttering their wings as they land on the sill, the shutters, and even Rutile. They're reminded of someone else they've seen this happen to - a memory that makes them scowl. Rutile reaches out a finger for one of the tiny butterflies to land on.

"You're in the wrong place, little things," Rutile mutters. "I'm not the one you're looking for."

C ▸ WILDCARD | open

[ Not feeling any of the above? Let me know on plurk and I'll see what I can do! Alternatively, just go off. Let me have it. We'll make it work. ]

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It isn't looking good, no--but as a general rule, situations that don't look good tend draw Kit in like moths to a flame.

He's hovering just on the outskirts of the confrontation, smoking a cigarette while his eyes shift between the Verdant Sentries (with whom Kit does not have the most sterling of reputations) and the latest of the Dreamfolk, who seems less than enthralled to be here in Aifaran. It's the latter whom he regards more closely; there's something about them--

It's the way the light catches their hair that ultimately makes the connection for him: Padparadscha. That's who this one reminds him of.

"Hey," he calls out, his tone markedly more friendly than the patronizing one adopted by the Sentries. They give him a dubious look, but since he's been on his 'best behaviour' over the last month, they don't accost him as he approaches. Kit gives them a neutral glance, before looking back to the newcomer and greeting them with a lopsided smile; as a dwarf, he at least looks passably nearer to Rutile in appearance than some of the Sentries do. "This place'll throw you for a loop, won't it?" And, with a small and sincere wrinkle between his brows: "You all right?"

You all right? is not an interesting question. Rutile is quite clearly not all right no matter how you swing it: their gaze snaps from the sentries to Kit with inhuman ferocity; clutched in their raised hand is a small, but sharp-looking chisel. For a long moment they stare. Rutile's not inclined to be friendly in this environment filled with people trying to stand in their way, and especially not when they'd exhausted the last dregs of their patience long ago.

That said, they're given pause by his approach. Internally, Rutile runs down a quick risk-assessment checklist. The markings on his face are curious, almost as curious as the solemnity that wrinkles them. His tone is friendly but sincere, and he doesn't get too close. He asks a question rather than issuing a command.

The moment is just enough for Rutile to recover some of their senses. They cast a last wary glare at one of the sentries before giving them a cold shoulder and adjusting their lab coat, chisel still held loosely in one hand.

"I would be better if I wasn't being treated like a delinquent," Rutile curtly informs him.

"I would be better if I wasn't being treated like a delinquent."

Yeah, Kit decides, he likes this one.

"They think everyone's a delinquent. Makes them feel important, maybe. I don't know," he adds, and turns an annoyed look towards the Verdant Sentries themselves, who look between them as though this is all far more than any of them had signed up for when they agreed to join the force. Kit keeps eyeing them, then juts his chin towards a line of parked vehicles on one of the nearby roads. "What, you guys get bored of writing parking tickets or something? This is such a joke; go find someone else to hassle."

One of the Verdant Sentries looks on the cusp of puffing himself up to his full height, intent on citing some by-law or another, but Kit has already turned his back on him to face Rutile instead. "I won't claim to be an expert," he says flatly, "but if you've got questions about something, I can probably answer them." He extends out a hand. "I'm Kit."

Despite the man's friendliness, they weren't expected to be defended so soon, or by a total stranger. It's almost comical how someone so much smaller than the sentries can irritate them so quickly, but it's a skill Rutile appreciates.

They take a small step back when Kit extends his hand, but otherwise remain still. Their eyes skate first over Kit and then his hand. What it is he expects with such a gesture is anyone's guess; at the very least, he appears to be treating Rutile as an equal - far more than they were getting before.

"Rutile," they say, meeting his eyes with a steady gaze, watching for telegraphs of any other move he might make. "I'm not looking for an expert, just someone who won't insist I go find a bridge every time I ask a simple fucking question."

Their hand trembles a bit with the venom in their voice.

All right, a backward step--Kit can take the temperature of this particular encounter well enough, and so lifts up both hands in a conciliatory gesture; they don't like handshakes, that's fine, no one has to shake anyone else's hand here if they don't want to. Not even the Sentries. Are they still here? Kit steals a backward glance at them to find them still hovering uselessly nearby, watching the exchange like they're prepared to intercede again should Kit's gamble go awry. His grimaces at them, annoyed.

"Ask me a question then," he says when he turns to look back at Rutile. "I won't say anything about the Bridge."

It's not that great there anyway.

Kit keeps his distance, and the crowd stays behind him. Though the eyes of the sentries are still unpleasant, they are far enough away now that Rutile can let their guard down a little, and focus their attention on Kit.

Rutile's questions really are quite simple. It's not their fault the sentries are insensitive communicators. They've gathered that this place is not the moon (which is almost certainly true; it doesn't look like the moon), but nothing beyond that.

"What is this place?" they demand. "How far is it from the moon? Have you heard of a gem called Phosphophyllite?"

These really are questions the Dreaming Bridge can answer, one sentry begins to point out, only to receive a vexed eyeroll from Rutile.

Kit supposes he is the most qualified dwarf in Aifaran to be answering these questions, by way of being--to his knowledge anyway--the only dwarf in Aifaran. He raises his eyebrows, sucks in a breath, and does his best.

"This place--" and here, he spreads his arms out to either side of himself, gesturing around them at the peculiar city, "--is Aifaran. It's a city. Near as I can tell, just about everyone here is originally from somewhere else, even most of the locals. It's--" another pause, his expression considering a moment, "...safe, I think. As safe as any other city I ever visited back where I'm from in my world."

As for the moon? Kit glances up at the sky, squinting some, and then just shakes his head. "I'm definitely the wrong one to ask about the moon--and the only, uh, gem I've met since coming here is Padparadscha." He watches Rutile to gauge their response, to see if his instinct here was correct, that the pair of them are from the same world.

Kit's instinct is well-founded. When he mentions Padparadscha a host of emotions cross Rutile's face: their anger is replaced by shock, which in turn fades into something desperate. They no longer seem to be paying strict attention to Kit, lost in their own thoughts.

Rutile's rational half warns that there's no way of knowing this is their Padparadscha, and that in fact it makes little sense for the only person in the universe they'd rather see to be here also. But there's plenty here that isn't making sense, and at some point they'll have to give up the expectation that it will. Now seems as good a time as any.

Rutile grasps Kit's wrist with their free hand. Their words, while still quick and demanding, now have an air of pleading. "How do you know Padparadscha?" they ask. The sentries, the street, Aifaran - everything else is forgotten. "Do you know where they are?" ~~If it's at the fucking Dreaming Bridge...~~

It is the fucking Dreaming Bridge.

Kit knows better than to say as much--at least in so many words.

He startles some when Rutile grabs hold of his wrist, but doesn't jerk out of their grip. He knows the desperation in those eyes, in that voice, only too well, knows that he probably wouldn't behave any differently if someone he knew and cared for happened to appear in this place. Behind them, the Sentries look increasingly agitated, but when they start forward as though to intercede in the encounter, Kit is quick to lift his chin, his free hand, in a placating gesture their way--as though to say 'cool it' without actually having to say it out loud. He looks quickly back to Rutile, answering them hopefully before they have the chance to notice how their action had seized the attention of the sentries.

"They're my friend," he replies, and hopes that Padparadscha wouldn't contradict him, were they here. "One of the first friends I made, once the Dreaming stuck me here. Like it's stuck you here, too, I figure." A pause, and then, "I can show you where they're living, though I don't know if they're around right now. Might've gone to Aisling Tower to visit the scientists, I think they do that sometimes."

Edited 2018-05-27 19:57 (UTC)

The sentries' movements go unnoticed, though Rutile does come to their senses and realize that Kit's arm is much softer than their own. They quickly let his wrist go, and shove the chisel back in their pocket.

With one hand they smooth their hair, putting straw-like projects back into place. There's a soft grinding sound of stone on stone as Rutile clenches their teeth. They cannot breathe, so they don't sigh or inhale, and their voice trembles so slightly one could miss it, but when they look back at Kit it is with the focus of an ancient.

"Take me there," they say. Despite trying to recover their composure, their voice still has a frantic edge to it. They're not angry anymore, though, so this is certainly an improvement. "To Aisling Tower, or to where they live, or - wherever they're likely to be."

Padparadscha's room is Breakwater 4, though they've been out for most of the day, keeping up with some of the scientists and enjoying some sun now that the annoying parasite scare has quieted down. They're just bringing in some flowers from the hydroponic planter in the common room when they hear Rutile's quiet comment from the next room and pause, lips curling in a somewhat humourless smile.

It'd almost be nicer if it was another hallucination. Then they wouldn't have to ask whether Rutile knows what Phos' determination to speak to the Moon People led to, or what it was that happened on the ground after so many of the Gems' tiny number had abandoned them. But they're here now. The consequences were always going to catch up with them at some point.

They step into the doorframe, leaning against it with a slight smile and the flowers they'd cut still in one hand. As ever, their shirt is open, revealing the high-quality artificial corundum filling the holes in their torso.

"Maybe they really want to be dissected by a mad doctor, huh?"

Rutile's eyes widen at the familiar voice. No, they think; it can't be, there's no way -

They sit up immediately, the butterflies startling with the movement and resettling elsewhere in the room. The bed creaks under their weight, the glue sealing their recent repairs feels liable to melt, and the air is suddenly thick, but even these mild sensory experiences aren't enough to ground them.

It's not uncommon for some of the gems to continue to see and hear their old partners for a time after their disappearance, and if this was something in the same vein, then perhaps the sentries had been justified earlier in their apprehension. There are a million questions Rutile wanted to ask, but now all the words are gone. Rutile had not even had time to reconcile the knowledge that they would never see Padparadscha again. Now, here they were: framed in the doorway, the last light glinting off their corundum curls, wearing a smile that haunts their memories.

"Padparadscha?" they murmur hoarsely, and then louder: "How are you here?"

Padparadscha's smile things slightly as they observe Rutile's reaction. There aren't many times where they're unsure quite what to think or how to handle a situation, and this already feels like one of them. For now, so both of them have the chance they need to remain composed, they stay in the doorway, offering a slight shrug and thoughtful hum to the question.

"Probably the same way you are, if the legends here are reliable. Though I've been here a few months already. Ah, but I'm guessing that's not what you mean, is it?"

How they're functional and how they ended up here after being taken to the Moon are both much more pertinent questions to Rutile, they think, even if answering them isn't going to be an experience they'll enjoy. Hopefully nobody cracks under the pressure of it, since this is perhaps one of the few subjects Padparadscha thinks would even plausibly crack either of them.

Often, legend is all they have. Rutile is quite used to working in the face of things they don't understand; part of their job is to develop that understanding, or at least to carry on despite it. But between Phos, Sensei, and everything else... Rutile is sick of secrets now.

"You know that's not at all what I mean."

Padparadscha keeps their distance, and Rutile doesn't approach, half afraid of disrupting whatever tricks facilitated their presence here. Their last memory of Padparadscha is of them serenely sleeping in their case. Now they're firmly upright, the holes in their chest filled - with lunar synthetic corundum? - and mentioned months. Months that they've been awake, that Rutile wasn't present for. That they had no hand in.

Rutile grasps the bedframe, dents forming in the wood where their fingers grip too tightly. "Phosphophyllite did this," they mutter, referring to Padparadscha's constitution. "They didn't even ask."

(Phos had asked. It was Rutile's lack of commitment that drove their hand.)

Padparadscha gives a soft laugh. "Can't blame me for trying to lighten the mood."

Nonetheless, they know more than well enough what Rutile is going to be most concerned with here, because it's the same thing that they're most concerned with. A reluctant sort of nod comes at the mention of Phos - it's hard to believe the subject didn't come up if so many other gems had come with Phos to the Moon, but it's hardly the time to question that right now.

"I was a little disappointed with the rash decision. But unfortunately it worked, so I couldn't be too ungrateful," Padparadscha admits, tone deceptively light, but with slight string of tension behind it as if they're having to actually make an effort to keep it such. "Though I don't think I know much more about what happened than you."

When they laugh Rutile suddenly feels small, as though their resentment is trivial. And perhaps it is: Padparadscha is right, as they so often are. Phos's radical plan did work, and Padparadscha is here, and awake, and healthy. Save to satisfy Rutile's damn ego, it shouldn't matter how.

"And we'll never know now, will we," Rutile says, their eyes falling to the ground. They are silent for a moment. It's difficult not to perseverate on the conflicting emotions in their head: guilt, disappointment. Relief, too, at Padparadscha's well-being, and gratitude for their presence. Raw anger at Phos, rooted deep enough to cling to their inclusions, to send hairline fractures through their body. And at the end of it all, pure exhaustion: from the lack of sun, yes, but also from centuries of picking up their own pieces.

Rutile reaches up and smooths their hair, curling it around their neck. Preoccupied with their own thoughts, Rutile misses the tension in Padparadscha's voice, relying on their composure to ground them. "I can't talk about this any more," they say. "Tell me about something that isn't... that isn't Phos. Tell me about you."

"I'm afraid not," Padparadscha replies, a little more gravity to their voice this time. Whatever bad decision had been made, one thing is for sure, and that's that there's no reversing it. Not unless Padparadscha breaks again, and they're not sure they want to know how Rutile would take that.

As it is, it seems as if this is all a bit much truth for one time, so they're grateful enough for the change of subject. They do give a slight shrug at the notion of talking about themselves, though.

"Like I said, I've been here for a few months. It's a big world compared to ours, but I've heard a lot of other people here say that it's small compared to theirs. And there's so many living things - even humans."

As a scientist, Padparadscha figures Rutile might be able to appreciate this world on that level, at least...after they get over the shock of everything that happened back home. And who knows how long that might take.

~~If Padparadscha shattered again, the only thing it would prove is that Phos can't even misbehave properly. They set out with one job.~~

The shock's not disappearing tonight. Humans catches Rutile's attention only peripherally; a strange look crosses their face, but fades soon after. They've seen so many strange things today: buildings, creatures, machines, plants, things that look like gems, things that don't look like gems. Hoards of people, more than Rutile could comprehend, all crowding together on a single block. It's all a little... much.

"This is small?" they marvel. Certainly, they'd hardly explored the limits of their world. It's possible there were lands beyond the sea, and that those contained even more wonders than they could dream of. But in all of Rutile's nearly three thousand years, no one had cared to leave, and no one new had cared to arrive. "It's going to take me ages to find my way around. I don't even know where to start."

"That's what I said," Padparadscha replies, laughing a little. "It gets a little easier with time, though. I could always introduce you to the local scientists..."

Padparadscha has actually been spending quite a bit of time around the university and Aisling Tower's way of late. On one hand, it had returned them something they could substitute for powder without having to worry about it washing off constantly, but on the other they'd neglected some other areas of the city as a result.

"Or if you want something to lighten up, this city lives on the back of a large turtle. The faithful say visiting the head is a calming experience."

A turtle? Really? Now Rutile's heard everything. That's it. We don't need anymore; show's over folks, everyone go home. They cup their face in their hands and close their eyes, and take a moment to accept it.

But now - and even they are a little surprised to find this - curiosity buds deep in their core. An entire city on the back of a turtle? How often does one see that?

The prospect of there being other scientists in this place comes as a surprise too, though with the population being what it is, perhaps it's to be expected. And of course Padparadscha knows them well; though they keep to themselves, they're just as guided by curiosity as Rutile.

"I think," they say slowly, "that we ought to start with the scientists. Though the giant turtle is impressive, too." After that, Rutile can't hold back a yawn.

It's definitely an odd thing to start off with, but it's also the kind of thing Padparadscha trusts to get Rutile's attention. They're a gem of science, and there's no shortage of new oddities in this world for study once they get their feet under them again.

It's hard to miss that yawn, though, and Padparadscha's mouth quirks into a somewhat amused smile. "Maybe we ought to leave at least one of them for tomorrow. It won't be too long until evening starts to fall."

They know well enough that's not necessarily going to stop Rutile, considering their intent on their work, but if there's any time they might actually be able to convince Rutile to get some rest, this seems like a good candidate.

Rutile waves a hand, disregarding Padparadscha's suggestion, of course. They're always tired; the hour rarely factors into it.

... That said, it has been a long day. And while Rutile's prone to keeping odd hours, Padparadscha isn't - at least, not to the same extent. "I'll be up a while after sunset," they say, and hold up the tiny device a Bridge staffer gave them earlier. Yimo, was it? Something like that. "I've got plenty to occupy my time with, figuring this thing out.

"But it would be inconvenient to wander around in the dark. The giant turtle can wait." They smile, but the smile fades almost an instant later, and their gaze shifts from the yimo to Padparadscha. It's hard to believe, even after all the events of today, that this isn't a dream, that they won't collapse or disappear again as soon as Rutile's back is turned. Perhaps it's childish, but they're loathe to let Padparadscha out of their sight. "Where are you staying?"

Padparadscha's amused smile widens a little more as Rutile shows the yimo. "Ah, of course...I've been a little overcautious with mine, I'll admit. No need to find out how hard the screen is by breaking it, huh?"

There's very few materials that can speak to having a hardness level close to Padparadscha's, and they don't get the impression the yimo is made from them. But it seems like an unimportant thing to wonder on for too long, especially when Rutile's attention so obviously turns to them instead.

The question gets a laugh, and Padparadscha taps on the wall in the direction they came from. "The next room along, four. A few people I know have moved to other parts of the city, but I haven't bothered with it yet myself."

Partially because it takes the means to do so, and Padparadscha still doesn't entirely grasp the commerce system here, or at least not enough to know what would be an acceptable profit for work done.

"You needn't worry about breaking the screen. I think I could at least fix that." Given some time to work and a bit of glue, of course.

... but I haven't bothered with it yet myself. A narrow miss, then. If Padparadscha had moved, then it would have taken Rutile far longer to come across them - if they managed to find each other at all. The prospect of being so near without even knowing it is a terrifying one. (Perhaps, Rutile allows, this place isn't so bad after all.)

Rutile's gaze follows Padparadscha's hand, looking in the direction they point. "Really? That's close. Why did the others move?" With accommodations provided, it strikes Rutile as ungrateful and impractical - and even lonely - to leave.

"I try not to create more problems unless I have to," Padparadscha replies, tone deceptively light. Now that their entire existence isn't going to be causing problems for Rutile at every turn, they'd prefer to keep it that way.

As for people moving, Padparadscha shrugs slightly, looking out the window. "I think some value their privacy, and others have left together with friends for different parts of the city. Maybe they wanted something nicer, or more their own."

It's not really the kind of thing familiar to their society, though, so Padparadscha only really has the few extra months of experience here over Rutile to make their guesswork with.

"You've never created problems," Rutile says earnestly, meeting Padparadscha's eyes. "Not ones that couldn't be dealt with." That's not to imply that Padparadscha has never been troublesome in their life, but rather that for them, Rutile's patience is endless.

The reasons Padparadscha lists are mundane enough, but some are still beyond Rutile's scope of sympathy. "It's none of our business, I suppose," they say. They can't imagine they'll ever move out: all that work in finding and moving lodgings would be wasted when they eventually leave, and for little benefit besides. (Of course, that assumes leaving is possible - the alternative isn't something Rutile wants to consider yet.)

"Ah, but just because they can be dealt with doesn't mean they aren't problems," Padparadscha responds, with a manner much lighter than they feel that issue deserves. Of course, they're not going to suddenly reveal to Rutile any of the feelings they'd been hiding for so long already, so for now they're willing to just carry on as things were.

Padparadscha doesn't really get the motivation to move either despite having more context for it, and they offer a slight laugh to what seems like a very polite way of putting it. "Not really. Living things have different ways of doing things."

"They mean you no harm."

Someone else has (possibly unfortunately, depending on the point of view), entered the throng. Chase has an okay relationship with the Sentry, in no small part due to having been friends with an Inspector on his own world, and his first impulse upon seeing the ruckus was to head over and see what was going on.

"If you do not like being condescended to, maybe I can assist," he adds, more to the Sentry than to Rutile.

One sentry's explanation that Rutile is disrupting the peace is interrupted by Rutile, as they continue to disrupt the peace. "Try telling them that," they snap at the newcomer, gesturing toward the other sentry with a chisel held firmly in hand. The sentry grasps their wrist in midair and grimaces at the impact.

Rutile's eyes widen and, with strength surprising for their size, they wrench their wrist out of the sentry's grip. They then shove the sentry into the street. They want to get physical? Fine. They started it, after all.

Chase grabs the Sentry guard's arm and jerks him back to the sidewalk. The poor guard's going to have bruises in the morning, but better than the alternative. (Not that there were any vehicles incoming, but jaywalking isn't allowed. It's the rules.)

Unfortunately the only de-escalation tactics Chase knows are violent ones. So he's just standing around with a puzzled look on his face.

The Sentry guards seem to be a little more wary now, at least.

In the diversion as Chase rescues the unfortunate sentry, Rutile turns on their heel and dashes away, heading for an alley about a block down the street. They're a little faster than your average lawbreaker, but not so fast that they can't be caught, and they know it.

The sentries, not to be undone, run after them. The one Chase rescued gives him a quick look of gratitude, but shrugs and keeps going.

Well this is puzzling. Normally people fight and run when they are guilty. Then again, Chase has observed firsthand how heavy-handed the Sentry were being. And since Rutile is running away, it gives Chase reason to believe that they won't go to the Dreaming Bridge like the Sentry guards suggested.

...He isn't any faster than the guards on foot, at least in human form. And his motorcycle isn't here. He has a split-second to make his decision—he grabs the door of a car a few steps away. "This is an emergency." He plucks the keys out of the person's hand, elbows her out of the way. "I will return it." (Don't worry. He has a license.)

In a few seconds, he's chasing Rutile. If he gets the chance, the plan is to pull up beside them and open the door for them to get in.

Rutile isn't aiming for the Dreaming Bridge, but they're also not aiming for anywhere in particular, except perhaps out - of the city? The planes? Their mind? It's anyone's guess now.

They stay on the sidewalk, dodging under and leaping over passers-by and keeping just ahead of the sentries. It's much more difficult to run like this in such a crowded and enclosed space; every couple of seconds Rutile nearly loses their balance from having to quickly change direction. They're running on too little sleep and it's affecting their judgment - but it's also affecting their ability to care.

As Rutile reaches the alleyway they're met by a huge metal contraption. It's sleek, made partially of glass, and on wheels it's clearly faster than they are. They prepare to leap over it when a door opens, revealing the man from before inside. Rutile glances back at the sentries quickly approaching, weighing their options.

They climb inside the car.

"I'm driving away now."

Chase obeys traffic laws (speed limits), but he can be extremely deft with a car, and so he turns the vehicle abruptly and without hitting a single thing, and continues to make odd turns to throw any pursuers off if they come after him in vehicles of their own.

"I'm Chase. Why were you running away?"

Driving has no meaning to Rutile, but it quickly takes on one as the vehicle lurches forward at a speed unmatched by even Yellow Diamond. The acceleration forces them back into the seat, and Rutile grasps a handle on the door as Chase swerves unexpectedly around corners.

For all that, though, the sentries and the crowd are left behind, and the chaos fades as they drive away. The speed, though terrifying, is also a little exhilarating - Rutile could get used to this.

"I didn't do anything wrong," Rutile assures Chase, their eyes firmly fixed on the road ahead. "The sentries wouldn't answer my questions and insisted I go with them. I wanted to do no such thing. I think it's natural to run away in that situation." Warily, they continue, "I'm Rutile."

He...supposes that that's a reason to be wary of the Sentry. Though given the way Rutile's reacting to his driving, Chase is beginning to realize that he may have assumed some things.

"Going with them is not so strange. They are police..."

Chase does know of corrupt detectives, though, so he knows that that's not necessarily a comfort, depending.

"You do not like to go where people tell you to?"

"Not when I don't know them," Rutile explains, feeling vaguely like they're speaking to a junior. Shouldn't that be natural? "I haven't given them any authority over me."

Police is a word Rutile knows - you could refer to their own patrols as police, if you wanted to - but they would never behave in such an uncouth manner.

"You seem to know them well," they warily suggest. Chase's actions are still a little confusing to them: they're grateful for the help, of course, but not sure of the motivation.

That's fair, Chase supposes; part of Chase's lack of concern over it was the fact that he came from a place where he could fight off anyone who tried to do that to him. (...Brain and Medic notwithstanding, but they...were his allies. Kind of.)

"I know one," he says slowly. He wouldn't quite call them buddies, though. "...Some of my friends from my world were detectives."

And that's all the explanation he thinks to give, but he does notice the wariness. "If you do not want to go to the Dreaming Bridge, where shall I drop you off?"

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May Catch-All

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