[ The reaction is slow, after Mattie extends her hand, but by virtue of some miracle—the familiarity and trust borne of one too many late afternoons spent with his junior, their time together growing farther away from tutoring and closer to companionship—Sion reaches back. Fingers clasping about her own, he finds his feet and follows where she leads, to a street which is banked by slats of light from lampposts overhead and the bustle of public transit. Here, the thing which he'd encountered seems more and more like fiction—had it truly been a shadow which had attacked him?

I won't tell people what happened, Mattie's said, and Sion cannot be certain that anyone would believe the tale. ]

Surprisingly... you're quite the stick in the mud.

[ Softly, he laughs, the sound naturally accompanied by a shake of his head—a gesture which Sion immediately regrets, for quite suddenly he finds himself swept up in about of vertigo. It's a blessing, he thinks, that the apparition from before has vanished.

Like this... he isn't sure he'd be of much help to Mattie, were it to appear again. ]

Isn't it the job of the senior to scold his junior? Instead of you telling me to see a doctor, I should say: 'Mattie, it's getting late, let's see you home before your mother worries'.

[ It is late, after all, and Sion is still the responsible party between the two. ]