"Just... make sure you don't get hurt," she murmured, because, no matter what, she couldn't accept people getting harmed because of her, not again.

Then he asked her about the drying.

"Oh!"

Quickly, she made her way to the blanket, before forming a fireball between her hands; careful not to actually touch the fabric and set it on fire, she let the warmth rise so that it would take care of it.

“I’m not scared to run if I need to,” the man admitted shamelessly. Off to the side, Cow snorted at his comment – whether in agreement or not known only to her.

Terra wasn’t kidding about the blanket, though.

“Huh. Neat,” he mused in appreciation. Watching as the fire danced within her hands, he kept the blanket raised, still regarding her from over the top of it.

Why help her?

His eyebrows raised passively, eye still half-lidded. “They didn’t ask nicely,” he answered.

Maybe he knew what it was like to be chased, too. To be on your own while everyone else around refused to help.

Sometimes, even just one person made all the difference.

Plus, he wasn’t a fan of authority anyway.

"Is that what people say," he mused curiously.

"Follow me down a level, and I'll see what I can do..." and maybe she can learn why he's not changed in the process.

Her heels clicked on the floor and gestured him to follow down a hallway the doctor had previously emerged from. Luckily no patients were roomed on the first ground level for safety reasons, and it was the only reason he was allowed this much room for now. "You understand I can't have you around others even if you are not at risk of biting. I'm still not entirely sure how much I can trust you."

Beatrix flashed her badge again at the elevator, where it opened. And again once inside.

“Thank you,” he voiced back.

He was careful not to jostle the bird when he rose, pulling his bag up along with him before moving to follow after her.

It’d been a while since he’d been in a building like this. As they walked, he couldn’t help but look around – observing the paint and the wall fixtures, where there were any. His attention blinked back to the woman when she spoke again, though.

“Of course,” he agreed. Really, he didn’t expect anything different. She had no reason to trust him.

Plus, it wasn’t like he was here for parties anyway.

"I don't understand that," she declared earnestly, before taking her bite. She hummed in approval, yet another good food she had found in the world outside. She didn't remember what she was allowed to eat before this, but she knew it wasn't anything this sweet.

"You said you are a spirit... do you know what I am?"

Hers was a magic outside the reason of space, after all. It didn't make sense, in any conventional sort of way.

As for the woman's other question, though...

"Well, you haven't given me your name," she mused, light humor in her smile.

Still, she had a feeling that wasn't what the other meant.

tiny open I'll leave here because of this headcanon

"Do you think... I could pull off the top and short skirt too...? Or is that for girls-girls?" Girls who didn't have marks on their bodies that, she had heard, were only attractive on men. Girls who looked the way girls were supposed to.

@silverymusings

"Are you not a girls-girl?" he asked, brows raised. It didn't really matter to him one way or the other, but if he were to guess, she wasn't using that phrase out of preference.

Then, his head tilted, and he answered regardless.

"Wear whatever you want. If you like it, you'll rock it."

She shook her head with a little pout, looking back into the shop's mirror, the top still in her hands. Neatly folding it while leaving it on the table there, she moved closer to Tor with a glance to make sure no one else was looking, and lowered her glove just enough to show the burns and cracks on her arm, "Not a girl-girl."