Bahamut's bag dropped to the ground. And the moment it did, the opening parted and a small, goopy poipole head poked out. Esper watched Bahamut go to lift Starr up and carry her to one of the beds. It was touching... in a sad way. Something must've snapped inside the guy, because now he was at least trying to be helpful instead of sulking off on his own the whole time. Esper wanted to feel good for the guy, but another part of him thought this was too little, too late. If he had actually tried to bond with any of them, maybe his gestures would mean more. But he didn't. The closest he got was Owen. But Owen was stuck in Diyem and Cal thought Bahamut was a giant prick.
So from Esper's perspective, it looked awkward. Cringingly awkward. Esper needed to fix that... in his own special way, of course.
As Bahamut gingerly put Starr down on the bed -- dumbass probably thought her belt would somehow light the sheets on fire -- Esper made his move. He flipped out of the bag and onto the floor. Like a slimy snake, he slithered his way over toward the bed in question. The tiny poipole caught a few down feathers that had drifted onto the floor and, with a quick, forceful exhale, blew them right up at Bahamut's face.
Esper's aim was true. He never missed, after all. The feathers tickled Bahamut's snout. It instinctively wrinkled. His eyes and core flashed a panicked, nauseating green. The necrozma reared back. Esper hid himself under the bed, grinning.
But then there were footsteps. No, that wasn't part of the plan. Esper slid away in time to see Bahamut open a rather large window, stick his head and torso out, and sneeze.
The whiplash led to a resounding clang when Bahamut's head struck the window's arch. His frame fell through the open window. A startled roar, then a brilliant flash of light, and finally a wrenching squelch. Esper's slime quivered.
"... oh boy."
The poipole collected himself and floated up to the open window. He took one look down and saw a slightly-smaller version of radiant Joule lying next to the guild building, covered in mud that landscapers had been using to patch up some of the ground that had gotten torn up in the various attacks. However, Bahamut was neither gold nor silver. He was a dark gray. Practically rusted metal, but dragon-shaped. And filthy, of course.
"Good news." Bahamut shakily raised an upper wing. "Gravity's still working." The wing fell back by Bahamut's side and his multicolored eyes dimmed.
Esper rolled off the windowsill and onto the floor laughing.
