Youji was blowing on his hands when Darling tugged on his pants leg. Wasn't sure how it happened, but one moment he'd leaned over, hair over his eyes, and when he'd looked up, twilight had faded into night proper.

"Fucking fantastic," he muttered. Another insistent tug, and he looked down at the little Smoochum. "What, not a fan of my language? I suppose get used to it, I have strong feelings about this predicament. None of them have to do with you, though."

In spite of himself, he was fond.

"This is definitely a case of it being me, not you. I suppose you didn't ask to get stuck with me, either, right? Makes me wonder if there isn't someone else out there who's missing you...?"

Youji felt better when he could listen to the sound of his own voice, and better still when it wasn't directed at bad memories or tufts of air.

"Well, either way, I suppose I'm the knight errant and you're my charge until this is end--yes darling?"

Another insistent tug, an unimpressed "Smoochum," and she pointing at a campfire. A relatively close one. Once he shut up, Youji could hear the sound of the sparks crackling. Well, damn. He cleared his throat, shoved his hands into his pocket as if he hadn't been talking to a Pokemon, and called over, "Ke-en? Don't tell me that's your campfire. Lie to me and say there's actually a convention of bored secretaries sitting there with you."