[PM to Join] Hammered

[Meraki]

The Docks
End of Day, 26 Dentis, 2719

Meraki had a steady job. The steadiest he’d had in a while. For four whole days, from the morning of the twenty-third to end-of-shift on the twenty-sixth, the wick had worked at the docks. He wasn’t the best at it, especially not with his bruised and battered body. Nor did he have the tools that made things easier… least not on the first couple days. On the third, he’d acquired a toolbox though. That helped.

By the fourth day, he was mostly left on his own to attend to crates as he checked the shipments. It was simple work, which led to his mind wandering constantly while he went through the motions. Despite the mention of the bonus, Meraki hadn’t used any magic in the job. Not like the spokes who seemed more than willing to push and pull and all the other basic things that helped things along at a quicker pace. He didn’t get along with those wicks either, other than trading smokes and the occasional Tek-burdened chat. They recognized him quick enough as a tsat and so, what more was there for them to talk about? He wasn’t like them and he didn’t think he wanted to be like them… not that he gave much chance to it, skittering away before conversations got too much or too personal.

Most dockworkers didn’t care for small talk, he found, but there were some who had things that put them in better moods. Like Sam, the foreman who appreciated a smoke and black coffee to ward away the morning mist. Meraki had figured that out, on the second day. On the third and fourth morning, he brought a smoke and a coffee with him, for Sam, when he arrived. It resulted in assignment to certain ships, on certain docks, as not all shipments were the same in difficulty or importance or pay. Some paid more than others, depending on what the captains were willing to give for extra attention or quicker pace.

Then there was Ash, a broad lady with a face that looked like it had got hit with a brick at some point. She seemed to get a smile out of Meraki’s antics and chattering. After he’d helped her when she needed to run off for a bit, and he took over her crates until she got back, she’d gotten the foreman to place them next to one another. Meraki didn’t mind. He liked her well enough, and she had a tongue on her too, and she answered plenty of his questions in an honest manner. So, he got to asking her whatever he could and she answered almost all of it…

…but she knew nothing about Gideon.

No one did. Ever since meeting the menacing tall human, Meraki couldn’t get it out of his head. Why did he get such a bad feeling about that man? It wasn’t just their interaction. It wasn’t anything he’d said, like the talk of drowning men. It wasn’t even the threatening postures, or shaking hand, or touches to the hook. He couldn’t say what it was, and that bothered him... a lot. Meraki didn’t like such an obvious unknown, so he’d asked around. But no one knew anything about Gideon. Not the dockworkers, not the tavern-goers, no one. It was as if he were a ghost who didn’t actually exist.

But he did exist. Meraki could see him, when he arrived in the mornings and through-out the days, when he glimpsed the tall tanned figure moving about. He observed when he could, from afar, and caught more shows of that perfect grin and the way that people tried to distance themselves from the man. No one seemed keen to talk to him, and Gideon didn’t seem all that interested in others either.

Meraki had managed to switch position with Ash on their assigned dock, in the late afternoon, so he was able to watch Gideon. There were a couple ships between them, and a stretch of water, but he could see the man moving about. The harbor bells clanged, as the sun started to set, and Meraki quickly gathered up his items.

“See y’ tomorrow, Ash,” he told the woman after they reached the waterfront and collected payment from the foreman together.

“Y’ wants to get a drink?” she offered.

Meraki shook his head, “I got somethings I gotta take care o’.”

He didn’t linger to talk anymore than that. Nor did he look back as he hurried past the other dockworkers. Meraki didn’t want to lose sight of Gideon. The tall man had a clockin’ quick walk. Had he already gotten his wage for the day? Meraki had hoped he would have gotten to the foreman first, but Gideon was already heading away from the docks.

The spry wick skipped around a trio of smoking workers, then jumped over a mess of boards that were piled to the side. He clung tight to his toolbox while he sprinted after the other man.

“Oy!” He called out. “Oy, oy, Gideon! Oy! Gideon, it’s me! Stop a moment, will ya?”

[Peregrine]

26 of Dentis, 2719 - End of Day
Near the Docks

The wicklet had stayed around. Peregrine couldn't say as they cared; he kept out of their way after that, and that suited them just fine. Folks tended to stay out of their way. They'd been in Ring Rosie-Rose months now, and that was what happened most of the time. Was sure quieter that way, at least. Peregrine went back to not having to talk much, which was probably for the best. They weren't the talkative type, mostly.

What they did care about was that every once in a while in the last few days, they'd turn and the wicklet would be looking at them. Not for long, and not up close. Fair strange, it was. They couldn't quite puzzle it out. Weren't it enough to just leave them alone? Hadn't gotten on, sure as shit they hadn't, but Peregrine was willing to ignore the irritating creature for the rest of their days. The rest of Gideon's, at least. Maybe it was just coincidence, and Peregrine was being too paranoid. Happened sometimes, being paranoid. Peregrine put it out of their mind, focused on the quiet of the work.

Still, they didn't like that watched feeling they got. Come the end of the day, Peregrine collected their day's wage and tried to get away quick as they could. Could use a drink, they thought. Lots of drinks, most like. They'd kept dropping things--the shake in Gideon's slim-fingered hands was too much today. Needed drink, and needed quiet. Maybe something pretty, to settle them down. Fix the Peregrine to the Gideon, so it wouldn't hurt so fucking much to move around, yeah? Rest and relaxation, that's what Peregrine needed.

So of course, what the fuck did they hear coming after them? The wicklet. Peregrine paused for just a moment, just long enough to turn a frown over their shoulder. They didn't know what Meraki wanted, and they didn't care. Saw that toolbox and it just reminded them of the hammer sitting at the bottom of the water. Made them ag... a... agitated, that was the word. Weren't like the hammer itself had been that valuable, but it had been theirs. Peregrine could be fair territorial, it turned out.

They didn't stay stopped, though. Instead of waiting for Meraki to catch them, they turned back around. They snorted, annoyed. "It's me", he said--as if Peregrine didn't know. As if that would make them stop, instead of keep on walking, just a little faster even than they had been before. One thing height sure as shit gave them over the wick was stride. And something else about them made folks not want to get too close; mighty useful for parting crowds like they was doing. Little ripple along behind them; doubted most even knew as they were doing it.

Of course, no amount of stride helped when your fucking knee gave out on you.

Peregrine had put some fair distance, they thought, between them and Meraki until then. But they came to a dead halt after that. Had to lean against a wall for support. Shit. Fucking shit ersehole of a leg. Just had to hope it was a quick enough spasm they could get back up before Meraki caught up with them; they didn't want as to see that face today. Too tired.

[Meraki]

Meraki waved when he saw the glance over the shoulder. He slowed his run, until he saw that Gideon started walking again, even faster. He muttered a few curse words under his breath, picked up his feet, and ran to make up the distance between them. Which annoyed him. Who did that? Just turn away like that when they were being called by name? That’s something like a gollie would do, but Gideon wasn’t any galdor.

By the time he caught up to the human, he had sweat dripping over his brow and his lungs burned from the sprinting. Meraki slid over the sand-coated boards of the waterfront, boots grating against the beige grains as he halted right in front of Gideon. He placed a hand over his ribs, panted for breath, and gasped, “Gideon, mate, didn’t y’ hear me callin’ for ye?”

He looked and noticed the tall man leaned up against the wall, with a darker glower than usual. Meraki took complete advantage of this, set his toolbox down, and kept close to the other man. He watched Gideon’s expression, and he said, “Y’ okay? Yer lookin’ a little… not great.”

“Oh, I was- I just- I wanted to talk to y’,” he added without waiting for much of an answer. “I feel like we might’ve gotten off to a bad foot...”

He glanced at Gideon’s leg, or more specifically the knee, then he looked back up and forced a tense smile to offer the taller man. “…Feel right bad about it. So, let me buy y’ a drink! Y’ don’t gotta talk to me, if y’ don’t want, promise. Just share a drink. Whaddya say?”

Meraki reached out to lightly tap his hand against Gideon’s arm, near his shoulder, in an attempt at a friendly nudge-

-but he lost his nerve part way through and it ended up being more of an awkward shove, if it landed. He quickly retreated his hand and shoved it into his pocket, then bent over to pick up his toolbox.

[Peregrine]

26 of Dentis, 2719 - End of Day
Near the Docks

Peregrine knew that when they stopped moving, there was a chance Meraki would catch up to them. Weren't nothing they could do about it, they supposed--not with that fucking knee, leastaways. The wick looked sweaty, like he'd had to work to catch up. Peregrine almost smiled, but stopped himself. Weren't what a person did, they thought. Too obvious. Instead they looked down at him, unblinking. They were tired. They were always tired, of course. Too many dreams. The shadows under their eyes were deeper than usual, making their handsome face look hollow in the fading light of day.

"Heard. I'm--" They paused, considering their response. Rolled it around on their tongue. "--Fine."

Meraki evidently took the state of their health as invitation to get closer. Even went so far as to set their toolbox down. Peregrine looked down at that too, remembering the other day. The wicklet must really be stupid, to try so hard to catch up to them after that. Weren't it obvious that they didn't like him? They didn't like anyone, as it turned out, but Meraki especially. It was fair natural, leastaways in their estimation. Didn't know too many folks who took a shine to someone who threw their things into the sea. His glamour crawled all over Peregrine, making them feel sick. Agitated. Harder to ignore when they were so tired.

Dreams dreams dreams--that was the wicklet's fault, too. Them dreams. Peregrine didn't remember them too well--tried not to--but they remembered enough. Things they'd had, things what had been taken from them. The Before of them, before they was Peregrine. Dreams that clawed at the edges of the holes, where Peregrine was coming unraveled. They didn't like it. Didn't like it at all.

But Meraki was talking, so they turned their mind away from holes and dreams and all that hunger what ate up the insides of them, bit by bit, and they looked down their fine straight nose at him. His smile was--tense, they thought. They had gotten worse, over time, at reading faces, but that seemed tense. Good. Peregrine was tense, with the ants of Meraki's glamour crawling all over them trying to pry open their edges. Making them sick. Fuck, they wanted a drink. Maybe a fuck, too, but they might feel too sick for that.

They were too sick to do anything about the awkward shove to their arm, even though they didn't as want the wicklet touching them none. Yeah, they was feeling sick. Shivered all over, even though it weren't particularly cold. They stayed where they were, leaned up against the wall, frowning down at Meraki as he picked up his toolbox. They wondered if they were supposed to agree. To the drink. Was Gideon the type to agree? They weren't sure what they'd decided--too sick to remember what a Gideon was, so it was all just Peregrine. Peregrine wanted the drink. Peregrine wanted the drink real bad. Peregrine didn't want the wicklet anywhere near them. It was a dilemma, it was.

"No." Their refusal was flat, not angry but not kind neither. Just that: no. They shivered again. Sick. So sick. "Can't be near--all of that--" They squinted. Frowned, then stopped frowning abruptly, as if the effort of making any kind of expression at all was too much. Maybe it were. "Yer standin' too close."

[Meraki]

“Y’ don’t look fine, mate,” quipped Meraki without a single pause of hesitation when the tall man said it. Those eyes made him look properly sick with something. The wick hoped whatever it was, that it wasn’t contagious. He took the risk though, moved slightly closer, and observed the other man while he did so. He continued boldly for the both of them, suggesting a drink as a sort of peace offering, and awkwardly shoving the other man’s arm in an anxious failed attempt at a playful nudge.

Keen to observe, Meraki noticed the shiver. It wasn’t cold though. That struck him as odd… but no odder than the other man seemed to be regardless.

The wick’s lips parted in a silent gasp. Concern showed on his features when he heard the blunt refusal. It’d just been a stupid hammer. He kept himself from saying it, though, and noticed another shiver run through the tall man’s body. Meraki inclined his head slightly, wondering what Gideon spoke about. All of that? What was all of that?

His mind worked quick, though, to figure it out. He ran through possibilities and when the man mentioned that he was standing too close… Meraki realized what it might be.

“Oh!” He nodded, stepped back only a couple steps, then his field flickered around him. The mona gravitated as he pulled at them, restricting, dragging the particles toward himself, dampening them. Meraki frowned from the discomfort as his field all but vanished from perception, as if he were no other than a human, and he said, “That better, Mister Gideon?”

Most humans couldn’t perceive his field that acutely, but maybe there was something about the other man that made it different. Maybe that difference was why Gideon seemed so odd, or wrong. Maybe the answer laid in that. More than willing to endure the discomfort, for the sake of investigation, he kept an eye to see any change in the taller man’s demeanor. It was possible he was wrong too, and it was just something else. But it wasn’t his first time dampening his field to ease someone else, and it wouldn’t be his last.

“C’mon, a drink would do y’ good,” he tried again. “Or a meal? Y’ want to eat? I’ll pay for y’. I… oh! I got somethin’ for y’.”

The wick paused, then he set the toolbox on the ground and opened it up. Meraki shuffled around a bunch of tools and otherwise. There were a variety of items in the box, not just tools. He moved his posture some to block Gideon’s sight from looking into the box for more than a glimpse. The wick collected something, then shut the toolbox, picked it up and stood again. He held out a hammer in offer for the tall man to take.

“Tried to find one that looked the same, but couldn’t remember much ‘bout it.” He shrugged, not sounding or looking very apologetic. Meraki nodded for Gideon to take the hammer from him.

[Peregrine]

26 of Dentis, 2719 - End of Day
Near the Docks

Peregrine frowned; the ants had withdrawn. Meraki had taken a few steps back, and--whatever it was called, when folks sucked it in like that. They'd never been able to do it, not even when they had a glamour to deal with. The shivering eased but didn't stop--weren't the field what did it, it was a fight inside them bones.

"Better. Yes." Peregrine didn't begrudge saying it. True enough, and it weren't as though it mattered much one way or the other overall. They had said he was too close, and he had backed away. Peregrine didn't quite understand what the wick's angle was. And he surely had an angle; whatever it was, he seemed like he always had an angle. Peregrine had known many a man his type, in their lifetimes. Could smell them. Didn't think as they had any motives that were ulterior. Shit, they'd been that type, once or twice. Certainly had tried to make a go of it with the bookseller, hey? But that hadn't exactly worked out for them. Wouldn't likely work for the wicklet either--that type always tended to meet an abrupt end.

Their head hurt, and Meraki was still trying to get them to come with him. Didn't know what the point of it was. Peregrine didn't bother to try to make the muscles in their face move proper, just sort of stared in the way that came more natural to them, mind trying to sort out the puzzle. The wick didn't seem as especially taken with the face, at least as far as they could tell, so that weren't it. So what did he want? Sure as shit weren't the pleasure of their company, neither.

Peregrine opened their mouth to refuse again, but stopped short when Meraki said he had something for them. Made a grunt of acknowledgement. Meraki got his toolbox out again, opened it up. Peregrine caught a flash of more than just tools in the box, but Meraki moved to block their sight and they simply didn't care enough to press the issue. Probably something stupid, or irritating--something designed to raise their hackles. Instead of either of those things, Meraki held out what looked like a hammer. Peregrine made no move to take it, not right way.

"...You really did replace it." Peregrine still didn't take it. Tried to find one that looked the same? Shit, Peregrine couldn't have said what it looked like. It weren't like they was especially attached to the hammer itself. Was the principle of the matter, hey? Just didn't like when folks took what was theirs, least of all when they just fucking broke it, or lost it. Or deliberately sent it to the bottom of the harbor--whatever the case may be.

Without warning, Peregrine started to laugh. Their laughter was strange and dry, likely weren't even too clear what that sound was to begin with. Sometimes took folks a moment, to realize that's what Peregrine was doing. They still couldn't stop their shivering--usually took them a while, to make it stop--but they kept laughing. Well fuck them, weren't that just something. Handing them a hammer, after sending theirs to a watery grave.

"Already replaced it," they said with a chuckle, followed by a wide grin. The smile didn't soften their face any--if anything, it drew more attention to the darkness of their eyes and sharpened all the planes of Gideon's face. "Keep it." Peregrine was still grinning, though their face was fair tired. One that looked the same!

"Ent need a drink, neither, or a meal. From ye." They paused. "Ent like I could stop you as coming where I'm going, though."

[Meraki]

Meraki had begun to think that maybe Gideon really was ill. That it wasn’t just a ruse to get rid of him, or something to that effect. He scratched the back of his head, uncertain why the mona would worsen such a thing, but he would consider that again later. For now, his attention went to the tall, dark, and mysterious man. Before the dockworker could refuse him again, he hurriedly retrieved the hammer and offered it out.

“...You really did replace it,” said the unusual man in that voice that sent a shiver down his spine. He’d almost forgotten what it was like to be so close by. His feet kept wanting to take steps back, away, but he held still where he was – motionless except for a slight raise of the hammer that he held out, as if to encourage the ill man to take it.

“’Course,” replied Meraki and a slight grin twitched at the corner of his lips. “Promised, didn’t I?”

He’d barely finished the statement when the sickly-looking man started to… cough? Wheeze? No… it was a laugh? It wasn’t the sort of laugh that ordinary people made. Meraki frowned. His shoulders tensed in reaction. His hand lowered, no longer offering the hammer. Gideon still shivered and made that strange dry noise… followed by a grin. It struck Meraki that the man was trying to laugh and smile away some sort of unseen pain. He knew pain well enough, to understand that kind of attempt.

“You is afflicted with somethin’? Or... Yer ribs doin’ okay?” he wagered quietly. He nodded slowly, then asked, “Where’re y' going? Y’ seem like y’ could do with some good rest...”

The young wick brushed the back of his hand against the tip of his nose. He slid the hammer to rest between his waistband and his belt, since the other man refused to accept it from him. Meraki collected a cigarette from his vest, if only to have something to help focus him, while he set it between his lips. He didn’t light it, though.

A sudden low whistle echoed from the wick. He shoved his free hand in a vest pocket (the other still holding the toolbox) and leaned back. Meraki glanced from side to side in a quick survey of the people and environment around them.

Once he felt assured enough, he stepped closer and leaned forward. He spoke in a hushed voice with a tone as if he’d just realized something, “Ohhhh… you is needin’ a fix, ent you? Whatcha on? I could find y’ some, if y’ want? Pay me right for it, and all, y’ can go rest and I’ll pick it up. Used to do runners back home time to time, fer the people I liked and all. Sure would help with them shakes of yer’s, Gideon. Whaddya say?”

[Peregrine]

26 of Dentis, 2719 - End of Day
Near the Docks

Afflicted with something--that was one way to put it. Peregrine looked at Meraki, face suddenly older and more tired than it had any right to look. Weren't Peregrine that was afflicted, though--they were the affliction. A dead thing, or a very nearly dead thing, come to wriggle their way into flesh what wasn't meant to fit them. Seems as this time the flesh didn't want to keep them, neither. At least not yet. Maybe. Maybe maybe baby, hey? Could settle in yet. Could become Gideon Carver for real. Stranger things had happened. Peregrine had happened.

"Afflicted? Could say it that way," Peregrine agreed, and a shudder wracked them. They had ignored the mentioned of a promise, but it rankled. Didn't know as they liked having it put that way. Like the wicklet was the type to keep promises. Didn't like it at all.

They wondered what it must look like, them all shivering up against the wall like this. They weren't sick, or they were, but it weren't the regular kind of sick. Not the kind of sick for the living. This was the sick of the already-dead. Got worse every face, while the holes scraped them inside out. Like a gourd. One day, they'd be scooped right out entirely. Could use their skull for a lantern--place candles inside. After drying it out, of course. Wouldn't want to start a fire, not with a Peregrine skull. They wondered if there was an end to the number of faces they could wear before they were more hole than Peregrine. They wondered if they were already there.

Meraki leaned back and looked around; Peregrine watched dully. Their knee was very nearly strong enough to walk on again. They could walk with the shuddering; they'd done it many times before. Once the knee was better, they'd keep on walking. There was a dive bar not too far away they thought they could make it to. A few drinks, maybe something to eat from a stand on the way home--that's what they needed. They were too tired for company, today. Of any kind at all.

Peregrine's eyes narrowed when the wick stepped closer. He leaned in, and in a voice that sounded all conspiratorial-like, asked... if they needed a fix. A fix? Ha! A dim memory of a different face clung to them, sticky-sweet and blurry and terrible. That had been a different Peregrine, a different face, a different time. When they hadn't as figured out yet how to make the faces last, and that it was easier on them if they did. Suddenly they were angry. People he liked--if that weren't a fucking lie, Peregrine didn't know what a lie was. The knee was better; they pushed off the wall and came to a stand, motion jerky and unnatural. A hand ran through their black hair, pushing it straight back from Gideon's face.

"Fuck off." They had been right; this was annoying. And exhausting. Maybe they didn't even want that drink, after all. Maybe they should just go home, and sleep, and hope it would be better when they woke up. Even though it never was. Freed from the need of the wall for support, they started to walk off again, moving around Meraki to lose themself in the crowd again. It was hard, when it parted around them. But they could manage.

[Meraki]

Fuck off.

“Woah, now,” said Meraki without pause. He raised his hand in a surrendering wave of a gesture. “I’m only tryin’ t’ help, mate.”

The other man seemed to be in a bad way. He’d gotten up from the leaned posture against the wall, but Meraki still observed the shakes and shudders and trembling that seemed to barely be contained by the lean muscular body.

Gideon started to walk off, and Meraki fell right into step beside him. He had to walk a little quicker, to keep with the stride, but he managed. The wick surveyed the area, as people seemed to part specifically to avoid the tall man. That was odd, wasn’t it? As odd as getting sicker from mona? Meraki kept his field dampened, though it felt about the same as trying to hold his breath while performing a handstand – increasingly uncomfortable and eventually, he would give out and his field would return to its natural state.

“How y’ gonna work tomorrow if yer all sick like this, eh?” asked the tsat while he kept an eye on the other man. His cigarette rolled along his lower lip, his tongue played with it, though it remained unlit. No wonder nobody knew anything about Gideon, the man wasn’t only intimidating and unsettling, but also rude and brusque. Meraki wondered if maybe he was poking around a mystery that might better be left unsolved, but he wasn’t about to let it go that easily either. So, he tried to figure out a different tactic: Drinks had been refused, a meal denied, the hammer laughed at, offer to pick up drugs… scolded at (to put it generously). Which made him wonder if that was the truth of it. Maybe Gideon was just a tweaker. It certainly explained all the jerky, odd movements he made, and the ill-suiting expressions.

“Wonder what the foreman would say, if he knew,” he murmured in a thoughtful tone of voice. He lightly scratched at his cheek, dark green gaze sliding around between the crowd and Gideon and the cloudy sky. When he glanced at the other man, his pupils dilated and darkened his irises from view before he looked away and they returned to normal. “Maybe he’d give y’ a day or two to rest? He seems right understandin’ of things.”

[Peregrine]

26 of Dentis, 2719 - End of Day
Near the Docks

Trying to help. Yeah, Peregrine was sure that the blond wick was "trying to help"--trying to help make some money, maybe. Weren't of no help, if Meraki had been right about what was wrong with Peregrine, to do what he offered. They snorted. Help. Peregrine didn't need help--not from him, not from nobody. They'd been just fine for--for-- well. Couldn't quite as remember how long it had been, but it had been just Peregrine for a long, long time. Since before the little wicklet was born--shit, since before his grandparents were born. So he could fuck right off, and they told him so.

Still he followed them, even going so far as speed up to keep pace. It was easier, with the shaking and the sickness, because Peregrine walked slower this way. And he kept that fucking glamour pulled in, for reasons Peregrine didn't understand. They didn't want to be friendly to this one, seemed like trouble. And not the kind of trouble they liked, not the kind of trouble that reminded them they was alive alive alive alive. Just regular trouble. Hassle.

"Be fine by t'morrow," they growled. It never lasted, at least not this bad, for more than half a day at best. By tomorrow they could work. And if they couldn't, what the fuck would the foreman care? So there was one less man waiting at the start of the day. Weren't as if they were any better-loved by the foreman than any of the other dockers, or the little brat what kept following them around.

Peregrine came to a dead halt in the street. What would the foreman say, Meraki had asked, if the foreman knew. Knew? Peregrine laughed again, strange and brittle. Knew? Knew what? That Gideon wasn't real, just a beautiful facade of blood and bone and muscle, and inside there was only Peregrine? Peregrine, who had looked out of so many different faces? Not much, Peregrine thought. Might scream some, but he wouldn't imagine as the foreman would say much of all.

They still trembled a little in the arms, but their eyes were coals in their face as they looked down at the wick. They ignored the crowd around the two of them; they were good at that, seeming like they was alone in a crowd. Had a bit of time to figure out the trick of it.

"Look--I ent sick. Leastaways not in the way--I ent sick like that." They stepped closer to the wick, knowing they wouldn't like the feel of it when holding in that glamour finally got to be too much and it was all around them again. "Dunno what you want, but y'ent gonna get it. So quit yer hasslin'. And quit yer followin'--unless," they let their eyes rake up and down, more deliberately considering than they let themself be most of the time, "ye wanna follow me all th' way home."

There, that ought to put him off fair enough. This one was a wick, yeah, but clearly no spoke--tended to be funny about things like that. Peregrine didn't really wait for an answer; they turned and kept walking, not expecting Meraki to follow.