Arget shakes from the monmentum as they prepare to lift off the the thirteenth floor.  Some consider thirteen an unlucky number.  He thought different, his luck... was just like that.  Despite his disgust with organized religion, he was right now fervently asking whatever powers that be for help.  Mostly in keeping himself from vomiting on his friend - he wasn't used to the inertia.  Lucky for both of them, he could hold it... for a brief moment, his ears picked up something... too faint for a human to hear.  He glances out the alley, seeing nothing, and shrugging.  Regardless, he keeps his mouth shut.  With each passing moment, he grows increasingly tense, and signals Chiro by pointing up and nodding.