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Esper nudged the glasses again. "Well then, I'll have to talk to HR and get back to you. See if we have any openings in the 'dense but adorable lizards who wish they were dragons' department. Not a high-turnover area of the company, surprisingly."

Esper blinked. "Oh, I think I get it." He pressed a hand to his mouth, loudly cleared his throat, and spawned a pair of goopy glasses over his glowing, purple eyes. "Owen actually works a boring, mundane desk job, which is why he's so into his comic books." Esper nudged the glasses. "They...

"I came to check on you." Bahamut declined to mention the part where he was the only one on his team interested in her condition.

Esper was content to hover around the food table... but then the kiddie charmander had to go and clone himself. Again. And that was worth investigating. Or, rather, asserting himself in. "Hey. Hey, hey, hey, hey." Esper jabbed Owen's shoulder with his tail repeatedly. "I didn't know charmander...

"Seems your bickering brought her back to life," Bahamut quipped, though he kept his distance. He didn't need any part of him to catch on fire... because apparently now fire was bad for him. Cursed cat body.

"Don't you mean 'particular?' Which I'm not." Bahamut's nose twitched. "I just find natural light better. It's like... would you rather eat fresh, organic fruit or an apple someone conjured up with an itemizer orb?"

"Perhaps if this world-saving venture fails, you can try your hand at stand-up comedy," Bahamut deadpanned. "So, exactly how does this ritual work?"

Bahamut frowned. He couldn't befriend his teammates or the authority figured. All he was good for now was some on-the-spot healing. "Well, I'm supposed to be a creature of light. Perhaps I can help this process out in some way?"

"If only my teammates would believe that." He shook his head. "Most of them seem convinced you lot are not to be trusted. That you're just waiting for the right opportunity to off us or something like that." Bahamut shook his mane out. "I think some of it revolves around concealing information...

"Mmm-hmm. Is incendiary body fluids part of the process?" Jeez, that felt weird to say out loud. And stupid because he wasn't going to remember saying it in the first place. "It's so very odd. I can't help but wonder... if my universe had such deities, would the humans not have tried to play...

"You're preaching to the choir." Bahamut looked all of this over. It gave him vaguely ritualistic vibes. He'd led similar things before with bright lights. Always for healing or meditative purposes. Yet the golden fluid gave Bahamut the sense something about this was... twisted. A blight against...

"I would." Perhaps she'd be unresponsive, but Bahamut was banking his apparent 'species' to win him points that his teammates wouldn't get. That and the fact that the bulk of the team's opinion of her kept getting lower and lower thanks to the only folks around who were arguably grouchier than him.

"Hmm. Well, my trainer nicknamed the real me Sticky, but I don't think that flies here." Poipole tapped his chin. "Let's go with... Esper. Because I know Baha Blast would love it."

There was some sort of party going on, but Bahamut wasn't showing up. What point was there? It wasn't like his teammates liked him and it wasn't like the environment would help change that. Certainly not with the stone having become an enchanted spirit. So, he padded his way toward the big tower...

"Hmm. Well, if you want to put together a care package... talk to Prince Silver Spoon." Poipole pointed his head-needles at Icetales. "He set this whole thing up." Smirking, he produced a tiny goo crown on his head again. "It's not bad for a peasant masquerading as royalty." His hand widened to...

"Well, that's not charming and adorable at all!" Poipole flew up to Potluck's head crest, brushed his right hand against it, and licked said hand. "Ah. Huh, you do taste artificial. And here I thought some alternate Pop just wanted a kid." He put one arm up by his head and another by his waist...

"Huh." Poipole tilted his head. "You didn't strike me as the damsel in distress type." He zipped over to Potluck's head. "What was it? Ravenous guzzlord? Kartana swarm? Black hole? Nintendo's army of cease and desist lawyers?"

"Ooooh, sounds saucy!" Poipole leaned against Potluck's thigh. "So, what the deal, then? Lovers on the run? Former bandits turned good guys? Intergalactic buddy-cop duo where you're the fun-loving, donut-stuffing cop and Maple's the hardass, by-the-book stickler who needs to learn to have some...

Poipole had found a new object of fascination, poking one of the patches of scales on Potluck's hind leg. "So, like, are you Pop's bootleg?"

"Oh my god. Who shows up to a party just to exposition dump?" Poipole took one of the pieces of meat of his needle and plopped it on Shiron's head. "Here, eat something. Maybe it'll inspire you." And he flew off before anyone could respond.