Rutile gives the fungus jar one last scrutinizing glare, then slips the jar into their pocket as Kit gestures toward the engine room. "Perhaps," they acknowledge, and stand aside so he can slip around them and approach the door.

They follow Kit into the engine room, wary of the creaking and shifting of the ship around them. The day was already dark and down in the depths it is darker still; the door seems to swallow the two of them whole. As they pass the threshold, their heel lands in a greasy patch and their weight slips out from under them, sending them briefly off balance. Rutile curses and with a deft set of footwork, manages to regain it - but not before reaching out and landing a hand on Kit's shoulder.

"Sorry," they murmur to him, when they're back on their feet. The word is short with frustration. "Did I hurt you?"