...so that's what she's playing at. That's... surprisingly clever.

He will play along by folding his arms again and looking away from her.

"...in there, you say?"

She... doesn't look like she's lying. He's real good at this whole 'lying' thing and she does not look like she is.

    One of the man's thugs, the one closest to him, looks agitated and leans towards him to say, "I've heard of vanometric power cells. I think they can take down an entire block."

“There might be an expert in town that could figure out how to disable it safely. Or one of you might be able to manage it? But I couldn’t, not my specialty.”

"Came all the way over here for fucking nothing," mutters her companion under his breath.

"...I think I'll give it a look anyway, but many thanks for the friendly warning." Maybe it's not as bad as it sounds? Still... might be a lost cause, then. "And if you're ever in need of someone to run some errands for you, either of you, the name's Qorro. Just ask around, you'll find me."

He inclines his head subtly and his thugs relax and follow him as he walks past her and her new companion.

“Sure. Thanks. And good luck if you go for it!”

And then they can leave. When they’re far enough away, she lets out the breath she was holding through her teeth.

As does he. "That was... some incredible thinking on your feet," he says, sounding genuinely impressed. "Is that a real thing? Vanometric power cells?"

“Thanks! It seemed the obvious way to be harmless? Scavengers like them, but we gave up. And yes, they’re a thing, it’s even what was really in there, and I really don’t know how to disable it safely.”

"They might figure out you were lying when they find the whole place wrecked and no obvious thing that wrecked it."

“If they go in. If they don’t realize the giant crystal wasn’t the thing. If they don’t go find an actual expert. If it wasn’t someone else entirely. If they can find us after they realize. But yeah let’s not stand here and talk about it I… did not like them.”

Does that mean she likes him? He's so flattered.

"Out of this wretched place, then."

“He doesn’t mean that, you’re lovely, and I’ll be back later!” she says, to the reef. But yes, leaving.

"Circus Minor," he says after some more walking up ramps and stairs, through an angled stone arc, to an elevated terrace with tents, buildings, pillars, monuments, and most of all people. "Market and host to all sorts of merchants and spectacles," he elaborates dryly, and then wonders why the hell he's playing tour guide to the castoff.

Maybe because she's smiling at him like that! Because she's smiling at him very much. He is definitely her favorite person in the world. Also the first one she's ever met, but, still.

"A market! Can we get me new clothes? With pockets? And... less sticky bloodstains?" She pokes at a bit of her black bodysuit. Just because the blood doesn't show doesn't mean that she doesn't feel it.

"...aye," he says, wrinkling his nose. "I may know a place or two."

Again, why is he helping.

"I solemnly swear to pay you back. Because I am completely broke," she says, very seriously.

The man snorts and waves a hand vaguely.

Here's a tent that sells clothes. One can buy them there. Does the nameless castoff have preferences?

She is firm about her pocket preference, and after a contemplative pause decides that she would like to wear A Color. She is not sure which color, but definitely a color. Thoughtfully, she compares the red wisps of her short (and a little singed) hair to some of the colors available, and picks out something flowy in green. With many pockets. Many.

"Probably it would be smart to get clean before I change," she muses, tucking away the crystal shard that she had been awkwardly holding in her hand into one of the pockets that has a little flap to keep whatever is held inside still.

"Neither Falinda nor Steristi could believe it," comes a voice from a nearby tent before the castoff's companion can reply. The owner of said voice is covered entirely, head to toe, in tightly-wound robes and furs. Entirely, that is, except for their face; their face is covered by a mask. They have a companion, similarly garbed if slightly differently coloured, and both of them seem to be staring (?) directly at the castoff. "Had she come in shame," the merchant continues, "ready to return what she had taken? No. Her hands were empty, her and her companion's expressions baffled."

The nameless castoff blinks, frowns, then turns and makes a beeline for the duo that seem to be mad at her.

"I'm extremely sorry, what exactly had been taken? And would you accept monetary compensation for it, sometime in the future after I have actually earned literally any shins to my... lack of name?"

"Falinda was shocked to have been so readily acknowledged, and briefly confused by the thief's feigned ignorance, but quickly hid its surprise and schooled its features to protest: nay, that book was one-of-a-kind, and mere monetary compensation would not overcome the ten years of grief the loss of this book had caused. Only returning it would suffice to settle this debt."

"Oh. That will be harder, but I will try to find it, and try to make it up to you if I can't. Describe the one-of-a-kind book, please?"

"The thief asked, and though Falinda was once again taken aback by the thief's actions, it was no cost at all to relay the description, for the merchant's memory was as a library, itself. The book, said Falinda, is easy to recognise by the five-coloured sigil on its cover, and the fact that it is sealed and impossible to open. As you would know, the merchant added in a mutter to itself, for you were the one to take it in the first place all those years ago."

"Okay. Thank you. I'll do my best, but I am admittedly a wandering amnesiac, so. Uh. Sorry."

"A convenient excuse, thought Falinda to itself, but so long as the thief honored her word and returned the book, the merchant would be satisfied. Temporarily. And so it and its partner returned to work."

As they indeed do, turning back into their tent to resume organising books.