[center][h1]Gilliam DeWitt and Nasaraph Sana[/h1][/center]

Nasaraeph shrugged his shoulders as he approached Michael unsteadily. "I didn't rightly know that King [i]was[/i] interested in this place." he said in response to Michael question. "I was just here to gather more potent energy in time for The Midnight Tournament." He sighed, glancing yearningly out the door into the cold night. "A opportunity I'm afraid I've now dawdled too long to take advantage of. It was sheer luck that I ended up embroiled in all this." He neglected to mention whether this luck was good or bad. 

It really did tear at him. He should have realized that the moment they jumped down that battle would tip to their favor and one side would retreat. He'd intended to pull Michael from the battle and watch it unfold a little longer, and he would have if that damned monster hadn't tried to kill him with a rock! He noticed that he was gritting his teeth and quickly played it off. "What were you doing here?" He said in perfect faux-worry. "Throwing yourself into the fray like that, you could have gotten yourself killed. And who is this man?" He said, pointing at the officer. "And why is he offering us a job?"

"ALTO!" came a shout from the rubble pile. Nasaraph turned his head to see...the monster? He supposed so. It had the same voice as before. Some sort of transformation had taken place. Why hadn't he retreated like the ghost had said?

Gilliam hadn't retreated because he's spotted Alto where his last burst of light speed had left him. He jumped off his rubble perch, now less than half its previous height and strode over to him. Then, twitchily, shakily, as though every taught cell in his body was screaming out against it, he swept his hand in front of him and attempted a polite bow.

It wasn't as though he wanted to do it, he didn't, but this wasn't a matter of pride or burning, teeth-gnashing need. This was about survival. Vittorio had launched a suicide left him in the lurch. Despite their best efforts the boy was yet unmarred by damage. Under optimal circumstances Gilliam figured the two of them together would have a rough go of actually taking him down. Now it was only Gilliam, and he knew that if hostilities resumed right now Alto would likely have the backing of the remainder of those in the room. This fight was over. He understood that. At the same time, he was screaming internally to fight. He had to send this morsel away, for now, hopefully to his death.

"I do not believe," he began, struggling to hold himself together through one conversation. "We have had the pleasure of being formally introduced. My name is Gilliam Dewitt." Gods on high and devils below he could smell him from this close. He brought all of his training to bare against the animal desires raging within him. [i]Don't salivate, don't salivate, don't salivate.[/i] "My thanks for indulging the fancy of us two humble servants." He directed him to the central staircase. "You alone may proceed upstairs, where my Mistress has no doubt prepared more stimulating entertainment. Please, right this way. [i]Sir[/i]."

The force with which Gilliam pulled himself away from Alto could have snapped a sturdy oak in twain. He walked back to the rubble pile and placed himself back upon it, between the central staircase and the group that was even now tending to Michael. Nasareph internally cursed this cowardly monster for not re-engaging in battle, but for his part Gilliam only surveyed them passively. The way the bird boy was looking at him was quite interesting, and Gilliam distracted himself momentarily by considering how best he could be prepared. An oven would be too small, but perhaps over an open fire? No, that would burn off the feathers. Those were the best part of a bird.

His eyes strayed from the bird to the annoying painter and the burns that dotted his body and the way the adult was fumbling for what to do. "Apply anti-septic bandages to the wounds, which are to be changed twice daily, and do mind to avoid popping any of the blisters if you can help it. There is unfortunately not a quick fix for burns of that sort, but you can at least avoid scarring." He said in a loud, clear voice.

"Why would anyone listen to you?" Nasareph shouted back angrily. This bastard didn't do anything that Nasarph wanted him to do! IT really pissed him off!

"Because I admire self-sacrifice." Gilliam replied. "And because I wasn't aiming for him."

[@Bartimaeus][@Letter Bee][@RoflsMazoy][@Scarifar]

[hr]

[center][h1]Bak Tsarevna[/h1][/center]

Meanwhile, back on the third floor, Bak opened he eyes to find a hole blown in the roof, Samoth gone, and Rurik perfectly fine. Her eyes went wide and she let out a little laugh of excitement and relief. "I can not believe rescue missile worked!" she said happily. She stomped up to Rurik, rotated her guns back, and hit him lightly in the chest with both fists. "That was very much reckless. But it was also very good. You see, you can do so well when you just make attempt." She looked around the room, got a confused look on her face, then turned back to him. "What [i]did[/i] you do with him?" She asked. "Wait, this is not important, are you all okay? Did you meet enemy? Where is Gilliam?"

[@KillamriX88][@Hammerman][@6slyboy6]