#i spared him this time bc i fear he'd get flung 80 miles. jed can have one ounce of mercy from me as a gift. for now

[manifcst]

HE'S GOTTEN TOO USED TO THE INHABITANTS OF THE MUSEUM, who after fifty-odd years of Jedediah's theatrics have come to disregard his noise entirely, taking his nightly interruptions with a grain of salt. It's hurtful, is what it is, even if half the time he really is only being dramatic and he and Octavius manage most things on their own. They could at least pretend to want to be helpful.

Point is, he's hardly expecting his request to be so quickly taken into consideration, swept up into the air before he has time to prepare for it. It's only years of experience ( Larry is very grabby ) that enables him to keep his balance, even if he flings his arms out for a moment. He looks over his shoulder, glances skyward, like the sun is chasing after specifically him, some big ol fiery ball of vengeance. Maybe it knows they're not on good terms.

"What's goin' on? Look right up there at the sky, boy, you go on and tell me what you see!" A gloved hand points upwards ( a bit preemptively given it's not even sunrise ). And Jedediah really does wait for an answer, taking a step or two backwards across the palm he's been situated upon in the meanwhile, some wariness in his gaze. Now, he's met a cowpoke or two with real unruly hair in his time, of course, but this is just absurd.

Nobody can ever say it don't pay to be prepared, though - or on-edge, at least. "If I— whoa, now!" He hits the ground ( well, hand ) so fast it's downright impressive, one hand flying up to clasp his hat on tight as locks of hair whiz just over his head at the fella's sharp look sideways. The cowboy's face is scrunched with displeasure when he glances up. "Watch where you're goin' with that stuff, you're gonna flatten a man into a flapjack one'a these days!"

But help is help, he tells himself. A man can't afford to be picky even if death by hair seems inevitable. Is that preferable to turning into nothing more than dust in the wind? He dusts himself off when he gets back up to his feet, needlessly, brows still pinched in frustration. "I'm talkin' bout the sun, Durango, you know what happens when folks like me get caught up in all that?" Jed shakes his head, the picture too grim to even paint.

kei had made a habit from being an early riser.

he cannot help but still honor such rituals of mundanity. though his appearance is different now ( from black hair to blue, short to long , to whatever one may describe him now ) the soul still remained. and inherently, as any decent law-aligned nahobino may be, there was an insistence on helping those who need it.

yet, there is someone smaller than him. distressed, even. it confuses him a moment, provoking thoughts of caution initially - was this not a common tactic of mugging ? a damsel in distress gimmick, they call it.

"young man," he hears aogami speak within his own mind. "they seem panicked. i would approach with caution, given that..."

and, as any good inhabitant of his body does, aogami senses how he feels. "i see. you already understand."

but what could he do ? it's worth the risk.

quickly does kei find his way to jedediah's presence. surely, a ' lift ' means to pull him up . . . and so he does, scooping his hand beneath the aforementioned ' cowpoke '. it's almost instinctive to start running, but kei quells the urge.

"running out of time ?" kei looks around. the streets are as dead as can be, bar the early risers sleepily trudging throughout the cement jungle. "why? what's going on?"

blue locks coil about his own arms, daring to ensare jedediah by the legs. in fact, there's... so much hair, it would be easy to drown in it.

kei whips his head to the side. "are you in danger?" best to check the surroundings.