❝ 𝐠𝐨𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝.

But...

That hardly mattered. Not like he was gonna hurt the guy. A handgun'd do nothin' but cause trouble.

Sitting down, he flags down another drink. He knows he'll need one.

"You don't talk to anyone freely, so if yer acknowledgin' me, its for a reason."

The human desire to poison their already fragile body never ceased to amaze him.

This iteration of his master gawked at the entire concept of those behaviors. Anything that made him appear human was revolting.

He reaches over, taking one of the candied petals, and eats one.

" It's tastier like this. Plain hibiscus is better in tea. I've learned a lot about different foods in this city-- many that could never grow in the desert without intervention of Plant energy. "

Legato lids his eyes in thought.

" That isn't how anything works here, " he glances to the independent Plant bundled in the safety of his gate.

Knives leans back as Legato reaches over, eyes darting from the counter to the man, inspecting his every move. There is - allegedly - no suffering behind the process of making the food that exists in this place.

That's what he claims.

" And how sure can you be of that? " part of the question is rhetorical, clear from how he doesn't stay and wait for an answer before moving to the large cabinet, swinging the doors open. Cans and obscure cardboard packages fill every shelf of it.

"Nope, seems like it." They chime in, unhelpfully. Zazie doesn't move when Knives glares at them.

"Yeah, that makes sense," they murmur. Their visible eye glances up at Knives. "If that would help you feel better, I'd recommend it. Wanna head out and start looking now?"

Zazie's presence has always been an odd one. He knows they never chose a side to offer their full support to, and likely never will. Still, the two of them have accompanied each other for a long time. It feels like several centuries have passed since they first met in the middle of the desert. Knives had been just a child.

This wasn't ideal conditions to smoke though. His cigarette had already been put out three times by the gales, so, that was a lost cause. Maybe it was time to wrap up his walk and head back to his assigned condo--

Or--

Hey. Where did you get that?

Enjin looks towards the source of the voice, rubs his nose with boredom and sniffs a bit. Get a load of this guy. His skin was practically pink from getting battered by the cold wind.

He tilts his head, raises a brow and tugs at the label of his coat.

" Ya mean this? " Enjin asks in a gravelly voice.

" It's a uniform. You're outta luck on gettin' one 'round here, " he idly taps the pink umbrella he had been given by the mysterious stars of the edge of his shoulder.

" Looks to me like you're a couple more strong winds from blowing away! " Enjin shouts as it begins to build up-- a dirty hamburger wrapper fluttering in and smacking him in the face. But it doesn't interrupt his train of thought.

" You MIGHT WANNA TRY TO-- " the same piece of trash slips over his mouth with the wind, and Enjin takes a moment to smack it away.

Now, the only solution to not freezing solid was to put on more layers.

The look he receives from the stranger only makes the frown on his face burrow deeper - as if Knives wasn't the one who had started this conversation. He drapes his trembling arms around himself, gritting his teeth in irritation against another gust of wind that blows through the street, making his balance stagger for a bit. The light coat does barely anything to block out the cold breeze.

Thankfully, the guy standing in front of him makes himself useful by preventing the food wrapper from hitting him instead.

" Of course. Being out of luck in this place is starting to become the norm- " he speaks from between gritted teeth. This truly is a punishment.

His eyes narrow, a hand brushing a stray strand of hair off his face.

As the Worm is lifted more eye level, they shrug. "Dunno," they say lazily, "one minute I was in the desert, the next I'm here with Lost Technology and no Worms." They still just dangle in the hold, making no move to immediately leave.

" So there is no need for death to end up here. "

Every time he thinks he has figured out something about this place, he is proven wrong.

He shoots a sharp glare toward the other again.

His nose scrunches. One would think that Legato had just presented something offensively pungent to the independent Plant. Alas, food was a much more foreign concept to this one than the one he once called Master.

" It tastes better that way, " Legato states, reaching over and taking the bag back, and he plucks one of the crystalized petals with two fingers.

“Yes, I am just stuck with this shell and whatever is stuck inside it,” Zaze explains. “But you also seem to not be as powerful as you were. JuLai really did a number on you, didn’t it?”

There is no telling what happened after JuLai, no trace of a memory to follow, only the strange physical sensations left behind by it.