Foisting off the blame didn't go over well. At all. The accusation ignited Elaya's temper, and she didn't hesitate to set the facts straight. Ghent stepped back, but not far enough to escape her wrath. Eyes wide, he looked to the finger she'd jammed against his chest, amazed by the intolerance she had for his comments.
	"Alright, alright! You didn't bring them, they followed you," he attempted to reword what he'd said, even though it was too late for that. He'd scarcely a chance to defend himself; Elaya was so riled that he'd no choice but to stand still, shut up, and listen.
	At first, Ghent was prepared to argue. As Elayra went on, he started to see the bigger picture. He started to understand why she was justified in her anger.
	[b] “They’ll stop at nothing to get what they want.”[/b]
	This was enough for Ghent to feel a sharp twinge of guilt, for he knew that Elayra spoke from experience. It was easy for him to forget that she had been through a lot; Elayra was the epitome of stoic. 
	Uncomfortable with his guilt, Ghent dared to speak up after she was through. "I'm..." He was ready to offer his condolences, but he stopped himself in time. Elayra didn't want his sympathy -- she'd already made that clear. "...Never mind."   
	The refusal to hand over the dagger earned a sigh from him, and he dropped his arm back to his side. 
	"I'm aware of your arsenal," the words were sarcastic, though his tone had been stripped of it. "If you want to get to Wonderland, we'll have to ditch them." By all accounts, the plan was a poor one. Hide the weapons, even if that meant leaving the majority behind. Getting past a pedestrian was simple enough -- Ghent could lie his way out, should he need to. But the police? Never. The very thought made him nervous, but not Elayra. The talk of the cops hadn't scared her; she was willing to fight them. 
	"You're kidding, right?" When the sword was drawn, Ghent ran a hand through his dampened hair, convinced that Elayra's hotheadedness would land them in jail or worse.
	"You've never seen a gun, have you?" He looked around, unintentionally mimicking Miles' nervous mannerisms. "If you go at a cop with a sword like that, they'll shoot you on sight!" The more Ghent thought about this, the less he liked it. "They'll shoot me, too!"
	Their options were limited, and Ghent grew increasingly uneasy. He hadn't any personal experience in dealing with the police, only stories to go from. Mrs. Saxon was always sharing gruesome tales from the news; many of which involved the police dealing with 'young ruffians and hoodlums'. Ghent didn't want to become the next cautionary tale.
	"Maybe...maybe we should wait. They'll leave soon enough." The police had better things to do than to hang around an old bookstore all day; a few hours wouldn't hurt, would it? "Drust would understand, wouldn't he?" 
	Ghent knew the answer. [i]No way[/i] would Drust understand. Ghent could already imagine the black webbing around his eyes, consuming his pupils until he snapped. . .
	"Fine! You can keep them. We'll just have to risk it!" With a loud sigh of defeat, he shouldered his pack again, convinced that Elayra wouldn't give up the smallest of weapons. "But [i]you can't[/i] draw any weapons! You may know the risks of Wonderland, but I know the risks here." Ghent was visibly frazzled, disturbed by the thought of being confronted by an officer with this girl. "Got it?"