An impasse. Cyril needed to get to the Berk office to get information on what people were employed by them. In the process, he didn't want to ask someone innocent or unknowing where the Berk headquarters may be. There was no reason to get them involved. But how was he supposed to find someone who worked for the Berks? Of course... The solution was right in front of him the whole time. Or, perhaps right behind him, or hiding behind a tree, or any manner of places Cyril couldn't spot...

To that end, he would walk a short distance from town into the woods, where the commotion of the town was no longer heard. In a clear, moderate voice, he would call out through the trees, in an attempt to communicate with whoever Yumika may have sent to follow his actions...

"Can you tell me where the Berk headquarters are? I need to go to Komodo's office. If you don't want to, you don't have to reveal yourself. Just write me down some directions and get them to me. I won't even try to find you..."

Shi'. Shi'. Why da 'ell di' I say da'?!

Edii Terkins was used to politics. Because of his ability, he was generally used for the sake of weighing a side towards Hell sentiment. Deceit and manipulation went hand in hand, and was Edii's major talent in life. But politics had little to do with interpersonal relationships; everyone he dealt with on that level were all accustom to . . . how he was, and any adverse reactions to him could just be shrugged off. Then there were those that he was extremely similar to--Cyril, for example--who couldn't have a bad reaction to Edii for that long, only because they could level with him. Maladi was unlike any of these people, but for a completely different reason . . .

"Oi, Mala'i . . . ih's okay . . ." Edii refrained from sighing, "I'm ju' worried 'bou' ya. C'mon . . . I can't die an' believe me--I'm use' t'da pain, ya on the other han'. I ain' wan' ya t'be hur', da's all."

So awkward; Edii hadn't been with anyone that mattered enough to merit a thoughtful response. There had been one before, but she was more masculine than he was sometimes. He didn't know how to give the best response aside from telling the truth, but the angel of deceit was only good at dressing up lies, not the truth.

_________________________

"Half of a mile east from this location."

It was a girl's voice that responded to Cyril--and by all means a girl, not quite a young woman. Judging by voice alone, she could have been between sixteen and eighteen, but no older. Looking back at her may not have been the best idea for Cyril, though she was in plain daylight and had gone otherwise unnoticed . . . or she had not made her appearance until Cyril called out loud. She made no clear distinction that she was affiliated with the Katos; for all Cyril could know, she may have been affiliated with Bruno and the ilk.

And though it was best for Cyril to not turn to her, the townsfolk had observed her appearance: a teenage girl with hair colored an absurd dark blue, unstyled and fallen to shoulder length, adorning herself in a black kimono. One eye was covered by a dark eye-patch and her expression seemed generally apathetic, but purely in an "innocent," semi-robotic manner. She was just yards behind Cyril, who would hear her voice as if she were standing right next to him--or even in his mind.

Were he to look back or not, he'd find no body behind him, only grass and trees . . .

“So we…we were thinking the same thing then.”

Maladi moved his lips out of the pillows confines to speak, though what he said was mostly his inner thoughts spilling out. It didn’t matter if Edii heard him or was listening. It was a slight realization he was coming to, about how silly of a coincidence it was. They were both acting out of concern for one another, and in the end no one was happy.

“Neither one of us wanted to see the other hurt.”

The boy wasn’t sure if anyone had ever been so protective of him. Not since the days with his mother had he ever felt this weight; the weight of someone who wished to keep him safe, the weight of a protector. Though he meant it in more of a metaphorical sense, with Edii sitting on top of him there was actually a bit of physical pressure that went along with it. Just the thought of it eased his troubled mind. He stopped his pouting and loosened his grip on the sheets below, actually going so far as to upturn the edges of his mouth ever so slightly.

“Thank you, Edii.”

Cyril wouldn't turn around to see who was talking to him. Just knowing there was someone following him was enough. He hadn't been able to detect her yet, and it was doubtful he was ever going to see her unless she wanted it that way. He'd gained a few important pieces of information from the encounter, though. He was being watched, so nothing was secure except the thoughts in his head. He also knew it was a girl of some sort following him. At the moment, he wasn't entirely sure how to utilize that knowledge, but it may come in handy. He already knew not to underestimate women on a physical basis, and knew not to trust young women, but maybe it could be useful at some point...

"Thank you."

Cyril would begin walking east in search of the Berk headquarters, disciplining himself to never once turn around. It was difficult to do, but he just had to remind himself that she could have already shot him in the back if she wanted to. Maybe she was just waiting for him to do something subversive towards Yumika, but he had at least that safety cushion while he decided what he wanted to do...

It was kind of funny. Actually, really funny--and Edii had to avoid laughing at the situation. It took every fiber of his being to avoid at cracking a grin. It was true, they were thinking the same thing, trying to protect the other, and becoming collectively unhappy because of it. Somehow, it just seemed like a cruel irony.

"Ah . . . y'welcome, Mala'i . . ." Edii replied a bit hesitantly, still not used to replying positively to another person thanking him--for anything, really.

Maybe it was something he could get used to in time. Cyril and Maladi were helping him get over it, actually; over time, he had gone from incapable of saying anything at all, to now able to at least say "you're welcome" without too much hesitation. There was still a bit, but reconditioning someone that was several thousand years old just wasn't easy. Edii moved one of his hands up from Maladi's shoulders, resting it behind the gypsy's head and to the side just a bit, so his index finger could be placed just behind his ear. It allowed Edii to stroke his hair in the most soothing locale, at the very least.

"So . . . 'ow ya feelin', babe?"

_________________

The distance was exactly as the girl had directed Cyril: a half of a mile, no more, no less. The area was littered with trees, though; it would be difficult to see, meaning any misdirection could easily get Cyril. Seeing the Berk's headquarters of this area would be just as difficult, though; with such dense forestation, he'd practically have to be standing in front of it in order to see it--and it was probably what they were hoping for.

He'd soon find the building--not quite a towering form, but an excessively wide one. Constructed of stone, it spanned a wide area and composed itself of only three floors--not enough to tower over the nearby trees. Such a structure was easy to miss, but before he'd actually see it, Cyril would hear a void addressing him:

"Who the hell are you?!"

The gruff, surprised voice belonged to a man--likely in his mid-forties. The man stood before a pair of doors, accompanied by another figure dressed similarly to him, but shorter and bulkier. They wore what appeared to be a dark suit; a white undershirt was offset by a red tie. A revolver had already been drawn on Cyril, though. Behind dark glasses, the shaggy haired man took aim, but didn't fire. He'd at least wait for an explanation before shooting. Because of the area in which the building was located, they more than likely wanted to remain hidden . . .

Cyril didn't move at all once the weapon was aimed at him. His single biggest fear when confronting someone with such a weapon was that they might get scared of him. As long as he was submissive, there was no real danger of a gun accidentally going off. It didn't mean he couldn't be in control. He was just stuck between two organizations, now while he tried to make a plan for himself...

"I'm Cyril, Komodo's brother. I'm here to pick up his things. He's in the hospital, and I'm going to direct the expansion they're doing. Yumika knows who I am, she can tell you what I'm here for. You might even meet someone that works for her..."

He wasn't going to specifically mention the girl following him, but he wanted to plant the idea that she was there. Maybe if he was lucky, they'd be on the lookout for her and catch her. Maybe if he was really lucky, Yumika and the Berks would have some sort of a falling out... Or maybe he'd just get a bit of privacy. That would work, too...

“Tired” he admitted, relaxing once again under Edii’s touch. These foreign displays of affection were welcomed by Maladi, who was a bit too drowsy to protest any more. Sometimes talking only got in the way of things, as he discovered. Actions could speak more pleasantly at times. Times such as this. It was becoming a sort of habit for the angel to reach out and touch Maladi’s hair. He did not know why, but he also did not want to ruin this feeling. It was a sweet touch, something that that boy reveled in when he could get it. He didn’t even mind when the fallen’s fingers rubbed against his hideous ears, a trait which he often hid behind his locks. Whatever Edii’s fascination with his hair was would just have to remain a mystery unless he cared to share the information, but the reason didn’t truly matter. Instead he smiled and closed his eyes, though still remained awake enough for conversation.

"Get t'sleep then, swee'y," Edii whispered to Maladi.

He continued to stroke the gypsy's hair, hoping that enough of that would continue to sooth him to sleep. That was the goal, after all; get Maladi to sleep and relax so he wouldn't have as much pain in his leg. It just seemed to help injuries if one took some time to rest--something Edii was trying to instill upon Maladi.

Unfortunately, he had no ideas how get Maladi to sleep easier. Truth be told, he was in this situation so rarely that he never knew what to do in it. Being suave in conversation was something Edii was good at, despite his accent--but being sweet in order to sooth someone to sleep that he actually liked? That was pretty difficult. In general, being sweet usually meant that he had something to gain with it--in this case, he didn't have anything to gain other than trying to get Maladi to relax so he could be contented again. As that was his only goal, he'd remain there until Maladi had fallen asleep, at which point, Edii would have every reason to leave the room--he still had a good bit to think about on his own . . .

____________________________

"Komodo's . . . brother?" one of the men asked.

They looked at one another for a moment. It was like they were having a conversation, but in complete silence. Both men seemed tailored to the other, in fact; one having a set of facial expressions that corresponded to the other--confusion met with irritation, for example, seen just now. Also, it was worth noting that neither man commented on Yumika--they had defaulted to Cyril's introduction, which had confused them a bit, though only one of them seemed to be confused. The other had been outside for six hours already and wanted a break . . .

"Komodo doesn't have any brother named Cyril," the shorter one grumbled.

His companion snapped to it, then, "Mind identifying yourself truthfully this time?"

"He will shoot you if you don't," remarked the other one.