Largoes walked out of the city with the others, ending up a pace or two ahead while they were changing. He’d fallen into the habit of changing his gear physically, instead of through the menu. Every time he changed the clothes on his torso, it always made a mess out of his scarf. Quizzically, instead of just making it a habit to fix the long piece of neck-wear, he just made it a policy to change normally, whenever possible. His strange, ethereal shield and crystalline, clear mallet at his side, and his menacing obsidian hammer latched precariously on his back. Though, as he made his way outside with Aiko and Kosuke, the idea had only just sunk in that he was already in his combat gear, that whole time—Meaning he’d slept in it the night before….

…Which means, whatever antics he’d gotten to while inebriated, somehow involved him changing into this. “O-oh crud… What [i]happened[/i], last night…?” He mumbles to himself, shaking his head out. N-nothing from last night that actually happened has come back to haunt him, so it must have been a mostly harmless affair. He brings his scarf all the way up to half-cover his snout, narrowing his eyes a bit, as if trying to remember. All he knows of his encounter with booze is that he loses presence of mind [i]really[/i] quickly.

As Aiko and Kosuke exchanged words, he simply gave the Fox Tail a knowing nod and a smirk as his thoughts are drawn more inward. 
He looks back to Akihabara with a glance, deep in thought. Shiroe… Someone so influential in this world, his name showed up on some event item flavor text, and even the occasional mention from People of the Land, as far as all the way back home—Far from the Crescent Islands. Word of his exploits and accomplishments with the Debauchery Tea Party, that his name alone stood out from that group. Someone with such influence that even before the Apocalypse, the world had been shaped by him. Mere weeks after the fact, he’d somehow made a town out of a dystopia-- a community out of a confused gaggle. 
Largoes grips his hammer tighter in his hand as he holds it over his shoulder, still. [i]I’ve got a long way to go… B-but I’ll make my mark. I swear it.[/i]

The Guardian’s thoughts are interrupted as a blurred, quick movement catches his eye. [i]—An enemy?[/i] he thinks sharply to himself, narrowing his eyes as his fur bristles slightly. [i]Or, wait… Would the Sunrise do better, here? I may need to try and distract the threat, before the Samurai is wounded…[/i] In an instant, the blur quickly made its way around Kosuke, but before he could even notice what had just happened, he barely manages to reposition his hammer before another flash of movement was upon the group. “K-Kosuke!” He squeaks, alarmed. He reflexively rears his Sunset hammer back, freezing in place and blinking as his thoughts catch up with his body. 

“…B-buh?” He murmurs, his stance relaxing as he tries to make sense of what was happening. A girl had full-on tackled the poor Wolf Fang, seemingly bursting with all kinds of colorful emotions. This wasn’t an act of aggression, clearly. She was excited, apologetic, and awe-struck, all at the same time as she fawned over Kosuke’s wolf ears and squealing something about a kitty. Or, wait.. Did she think he’s…

“—Pff!” Largoes stifles some laughter, clearing his throat with a cough as he manages to keep composed. “Ah, m-miss, er…” He starts, peering at the girl as her information pops up in his view. A Cleric? [i]And[/i] a Title… But it looks to be purely cosmetic, as her subclass is still Dancer. Strange. “Miss T-Tamina… I think the boy needs to breathe.” He notes, crouching down a little as he gives a crooked, nervous smile. It doesn’t even cross his mind to correct the kitty/wolf perception, but it’d be a horrible waste of morale to send Kosuke to the Cathedral after the inspiring little pep-talk they’d all shared, not too long ago.