[b]Foxpearl![/b]

The dreadful helmet turns to face you; behind this imposing figure, there is the creak of chairs and tables being shoved aside as the masked enforcer starts digging her way out of the mess of the restaurant. Even with the added height, there's something incredibly solid about this figure; a mountain may weather a wildfire and still remain standing when the wildfire's fury has burnt out completely. In a fight, who's to say whether or not that suit of armor would melt underneath your hands?

Then the villain pumps an armored fist in joy. [b]"Finally! Heaven Has Sent Me A Sign That My Quest To Cleanse This City Of Its Filth And Moral Decay, As Embodied In The Dockside Gangsters Whose Corruption And Iniquity Reveals Itself When Given The Slightest Excuse, As Well As The "Deep State" That Has Accumulated Around The Homunculus That They Created Using The Semen Of The [i]Real[/i] Mayor, Is Righteous, Pure And Holy! Join Me, Sylph Of The Highest Airs, In Wiping These Vermin Off The Face Of Our Fair City, Which We Will Rule Together In The Name Of Heaven!"[/b]

Various dials (previously looking decorative) suddenly spin, and the ghostfires begin to pour back into the armor, limning the armor in light and, inadvertently, pulling you towards Xingtian. It's... [i]possible[/i] that you could get sucked [i]into[/i] however that armor's powered and become an adorable trapped power source if you don't shuck that fire off of your, for lack of a better word, self. The air around the two of you is full of shadowy light, incredible heat, and the moaning of the dead disturbed from their rest.

[Xingtian wants you to raise your Savior and drop your Mundane!]

[hr]

[b]Rain![/b]

Here's the thing. He's a tough-looking guy. Like, he hits the gym regular. He's got some neck tattoos, he's got the build of someone who went for body mastery over looking impressively bulky, and he's got the kind of stubble that would drive someone into that sort of thing wild.

[i]Not[/i] the kind of person who leaves a phone in a glittery peach-themed case (the fruit, not the princess) kicked under the couch. Or the kind of person who has college textbooks on the history of the Republic, auspicious construction, and modern economics in their trendy, deceptively expensive backpack. More the kind of person who looks after the kind of person who lives here.

The person who is very definitely [i]not[/i] here, and probably wouldn't have left their phone behind. As if the lack of a trap waiting for them here wasn't enough to convince you of that. As for anything else worth grabbing-- well, it's not like you're looking for anything expensive, right? If you wanted to go into burglary (that's the right crime, right?), the paintings: cut them out of the frames, roll them up and rubber-band them. Which whoever hit this place didn't do, that's another point in favor of the obvious conclusion: that whoever lives here is currently not here, and not of her own free will, which is almost certainly related to the fire.