It’s like fishing for smugglers in the air, and Reyes lets himself be hooked by the other man’s arms and gently guided back down, anchored by the weight of that mechanical leg. It looks like armour, but something tells him it isn’t. “That came with you?” Reyes asks, nodding to the leg. He still hasn’t been able to sort out what makes it through the tubes and what doesn’t.

He still feels eerily light, insubstantial, like a gust of wind could carry him off. Reyes sighs, and keeps a tight grip on Rhodes’ shoulder; they’d introduced themselves before setting off earlier, but not much more than that. “Thank you. I’m not even sure why this is happening, except—”

He’s learned to accept this world’s oddities in stride, but he starts patting down the pockets of his backpack, rifling through the supplies they’d foraged along the way. Some fluffpods, fruit and nuts, a feather that had looked beautiful enough to decorate a barebones inn room…