Lady, I just saved your ass instead of popping cores or fucking these other, hotter props in this sad little story, so wipe your snotty nose and thank—no, no, stop, that's not how we talk to real people, focus. Focus on Shirtless. Shirtless is real. Everything else you can figure out later, just focus on this. You know he's real. You can feel him, his skin. Skin is real. Everything is fine. His mind is right there, it's right next to you, you can reach out and hold it in your hand like a little bird.

Or you could reach down and grab his ass. That's also a good way to verify that he's real. There's probably some law or something, but—laws aren't real, right? They're just words. Asses are ontologically much more real than a law— He grasps one wrist in the other hand again. "I really think is best put me down, now, before I—."

Oh, must we? We look so sexy like this! Like the cover of a book! We want stride through the fields outshining the sun!

"Oh, what the hell."

Tim isn't, exactly, going to ignore Misha's objections.  However, Misha's extremely backlashed and also saying some really quite concerning things.  He's not going anywhere.

Tim's worried about Misha, and really wants Misha to be okay.

(he also wants the civvie to be okay but he's trusting Graviton to handle her half of the problem)

The civvie(her actual name is Maria) is having a moderately-noisy breakdown on Graviton.  It's been a tough day, and she's hungry and she can't figure out why because she ate so much and she just wants to go home and take a nine-hour shower...

"Do you feel up to walking? Somebody can carry you back if you aren't. Medical will look you over and then you can go take that shower."

She doesn't want to rush the lady but it looks like Misha could use a guiding break sooner rather than later.

"Y-yeah, I, I c-can walk..."  She looks pretty wobbly, honestly.  She might believe she can walk but it would be reasonable to have doubts.

Well, Graviton doesn't need her hands free to use her power so she can be leaned on as a compromise for now. She might need to pick her up if they have to book it, or navigate terrain though.

Meanwhile, Tim's got his own guy to take care of.  "You okay, Misha?"  His tone is soft and gentle.  "What do you need from me?"

Dick! I need your fucking cock oozing all over my fucking chest while you scream my name and tell me you didn't mean any of those nasty things you wished—about wanting me to leave and all that—because I'm the fucking greatest thing that's ever happened to this world and you don't deserve me. 

He can hear Klimka in his head, talking in his low, unimpressed voice and sticking his hand on the back of Misha's neck to give him a nice strong "play nice" zap of guiding: That's a want, Nemtsov, not a need. What is it you need, right now, to keep yourself and everyone else safe? 

To which of course the right answer is who the fuck cares about everyone else? I want an apology! And semen! Imaginary Klimka cares, of course, but imaginary Klimka isn't real, and frankly, everyone else is probably just a figment of his imagination, too, because he can't feel anyone when he's like this except the compatible esper who is touching him and—shit, that guy probably cares about everyone else, too, doesn't he?

"<Fuck you,>" he says aloud, angry that the only other person in the universe cares about all these holograms like they're real. "<I need you stupid Americans to stop prioritizing every damn idiot in this place over my health! I don't deserve this! I am going to be in the damn tent all freaking day now, and you know what? That's going to be your problem, now, Captain America! I am going to fucking suck your dick until you die, man, I will fuck you and kill you and then I will bring you to life and fuck you and kill you again because it's all fake anyway so why not! Shit, wait, I said all that aloud.>" He covers his mouth with his hands, and then groans with relief. That had all been in Russian. He tries again in English, calmer now. "I need you—"

"—I need you not let go. Okay? Is just you left. I don't want be alone." And he starts crying, quietly, hopefully quietly enough that—shit, esper hearing. "<Fuck you and your esper powers, you fucking dick.>" He should do more dungeons with foreigners. His backlash is so much easier to manage when he can verbally abuse anyone he wants. He breathes deeply. "Is fine, is fine, is backlash. Just need guide and—maybe best not be near people."

Well.  Okay.  Great.  He's not the GREATEST at comforting crying people, and he has no idea what the fuck Misha was talking about in...Russian?  German??  Polish????  Something??????????

But you don't, actually, need to be able to understand why someone's upset to soothe them at least a little.  He can't afford to drop the pistol, but he can guide this guy.  "I've got you, Misha.  You're not alone.  Put your arms around my neck, I'll support your weight the other side, okay?"  And, once Misha's gotten to a better position for carrying, Tim scoops an arm under Misha's ass extreme upper thigh.  Much better ergonomics.

And Tim's skin feels even better than before, owing to increased power usage.  He's above net-zero backlash now, between covering Misha, Maria, Fiona, and himself.

And now suddenly he is sitting side-saddle in Shirtless' arms like an early medieval damsel on a horse and all he can do is cackle and yell, "Ride, horsey, ride! Awayyyyy!"

Well, it's enough to get a shaky giggle out of the vic.

Misha's noble steed bounces him a few times, like a real horse would.  "Ready to ride on home?"

Yes! Ahahahahahahahahahahahahaha yes! He restrains himself, barely, from kicking with his heels, mostly because the posture doesn’t really allow it, and instead points toward the portal. “Charge!”

...Well now she's tempted to scoop the victim up and declare this a race. Probably an objectively bad idea.

Instead she'll just gesture them to go ahead and make sure the victim is well supported in walking. While trying not to giggle too much.

Okay.  That was - probably a bad idea, but this many candy hyenas could have been nasty if they’d gotten a bite in before he could bring his power to bear.  They could have done better, but it could have been a lot worse…

Maybe he should have racked up more backlash.  He’s only a little tired.  Once they’re out he can check on Graviton and maybe cuddle Misha more…

You’re woolgathering.  Get going.

It's interesting, how, now that there's no field of wheat here, there isn't... anything at all, really. Just a flat, featureless plain of blackish matter and the hazy silhouette of trees and ivy patches and the like in the distance. Most weirdly, there are no monsters nearby at all, unless some of them are moles or worms like that one dungeon that was all over the news. This is passing strange. Surely the place had more resources to throw at them as they pulled more and more people out.

Oh, well. "Go, go, go!" Riding handsome horsey-men is much more interesting and who cares about fake dungeon nonsense, anyway.