"<span style="font-style: italic">Speaking of rides...</span>" Marcial took a moment to peep out the door, laying his eyes on a familiar, black, and rather antique-looking vehicle in the distance. "<span style="font-style: italic">Good, that jerk is still waiting for us... Our chauffeur would gladly take you, though just say who you are, since he's pretty picky on taking strangers...</span>" The man sighed, as if recalling a time when that pickiness escalated into something heinous, something cruel. As if remembering a time when the chauffeur refused to pick up a hitchhiking child in the middle of a snowy winter only for a kappa to appear and snatch the poor child away like a grocery shop item. As if recalling that the chauffeur was a cold-heart much in the vein of Nit, possibly milder. The man sighed. The man stared.<br/><br/>"<span style="font-family: courier;">I'd never... drink, hun</span>," Nit teased, making their way out with gradual steps. "<span style="font-family: courier;">Wine tastes... like piss, and I... don't even wanna touch... beer. Oddly enough, my... parents are the ones... encouraging me to have... wine on special occasions.</span>" They raked their tongue, the tonic-like flavor returning to them like an obnoxious sibling. In an instant right afterwards, they came over to Axe and clasped her arm, staring into her eyes with a lovey-dovey peeper. "<span style="font-family: courier;">Of course, alco... hol isn't my biggest... worry. If we dally any... longer here, you might... just be thirty minutes... late instead.</span>" Snickering, the eldritch yanked her right out the doorway, catching her if she were to stumble. "<span style="font-family: courier;">For someone so... worried about being... late, you sure like... to waste time.</span>" Emphasising their haste, Nit actually went as far as to leap over the barrier that separated the story from plummeting doom, landing on all fours and all intact on the concrete. Their previously injured ankle did not like that, but they ignored the pain, turning around to face Axe and Marcial from above. "<span style="font-family: courier;">Come on! I'm... like, two times heavier... than you yet you're... slower than me.</span>"<br/><br/>"<span style="font-style: italic">Mx!</span>" Marcial scrambled down the steps, panting uncontrollably. "<span style="font-style: italic">Ahh! Are you crazy?!</span>"<br/><br/>"<span style="font-family: courier;">Just impatient</span>," the clock admitted, signalling the chauffeur over with their hand as if nothing happened.