The stranger hesitates as their hands meet. The moment barely lasts a fraction of a second, but it is filled by a quiet absence of breath and a wavering feeling, like the flickering light of a lantern. Much of his tenseness disappears as the world starts moving again, and he moves with it, turning to guide his discovery through a stream of wandering bodies.

He still glows like a candle, though. Like a flame. Different than the rest of them. People don't seem to see him anymore, not like they could a moment ago.

Phalanx is led without a word along the stalls and down some stairs and into what might be considered a courtyard in the abstract sense--it's a round area, lined with a jumble of temporary awnings and more permanent establishments. They are led into the center, where concentric circles of geometric stone serve as benches for anyone not strolling past it.

Robin sits, expecting Phalanx to sit as well.