Tamislin watches the human carefully, but as the man regains his footing, there is little reason for him to help the man to his feet again. The short fellow is quite grateful for that, considering it means the human's height and weight difference aren't going to give him a hernia just trying to accomplish that.
The man's words confuse him, and it takes him a moment to figure out whether the detective is referring to riding a bike or riding a car before settling on bike with the sentence that follows the first statement. He looked up at Tyrone at the mention of the name. "Who is Harry?" the elf asks, deciding not to repeat the fact that his back wheel has a flat and the reason he isn't riding said bike back to his appartment.
He hushes at the frown, not quite sure it is in response to his question or something else. Tamislin is many things, but he is not a mind reader.
Tamislin waited a moment before nodding in apparent agreement with what he saw and turning to start pushing the bike in the direction he had just pointed out. "No problem," he said. "I can use the company," he told the man, shifting the bag a little so it rested just in front of his hip and well within his action radius.
"I don't usually spend a lot of time in this neighbourhood," he told the human, "but it's the quickest route home. Unfortunately, I drove through something sharper than my wheels and now I have to walk," he let out a bit of a sigh that sounded like he'd been trying not to let it out for too long. "I suppose that's what I get for hurrying all day.."
Tamislin uncorked the bottle and handed it to the Detective. It felt like ceramic, for some reason. The short fellow eyed Tyrone for a minute to make sure he could drink unattended before turning around and taking a few steps away to go fetch a BMX bike that was too small to fit most adults. Tamislin was grateful children and teenagers were into the sport as well since it made his life and his ability to get around so much easier. It made for a particularly poor way of transporting groceries, but he learned to make do. Besides, you had to be grateful for the little things, right?
The hind wheel had a flat, so he wouldn't be riding it anywhere tonight, but he'd get it home yet. He came to a halt in front of the Detective and his car, trying to gauge whether he should take the bottle back or if the man could handle it as they walked. He could certainly use the extra water, if nothing else..
"It's this way," he said, as he pointed out the direction, waiting for the taller human to start moving.
"I came across you trying to stab your car, I don't know if you were with anyone else before." He tried not to show that the fact the man didn't know either worried him. "Perhaps a walk will help clear your head?" He offered, then turned to the messenger bag he carried on his back, shifting it to the sides and front so he could rummage around it. If he dropped the car-keys in there, then surely the man wouldn't notice as he pulled out a bottle of water.
"Or some water might help?" Or at the very least help stave off a hangover..
Tamislin had to crawl half under the car for the keys and he hides them in his sleeve as he pushes himself back out from underneath the vehicle. He can't answer the detective's questions, because he doesn't know. "Are you alright?" He asks, gently, "You don't.. usually.. I mean," Tamislin looks like he's not sure what to make of the man when he's acting so unlike himself either.
"You do appear quite drunk," he points out, not sure this is the right moment to do so, but, well.. he shouldn't drive like this, surely?
"I'll get 'em!" Tamislin says as he pushes the older man to lean against the car and gets down on his knees to look beneath the car where he flicked the keys to and wonders how he's going to convince the man not to take the car if he seems this intent. Surely it's not a good idea to let him, though..
"Ehhh... But don't you have to wait for someone to pick up before you hand it over? And that's only if the call was meant for you, isn't it. Augh, I think I got it wrong again. I wonder if that location thing he told me about works here. Still don't get how people can use this so easily... But nope."
He puts the phone behind his back.
"Not to be o-offensive either, but I don't see how you'd be able to use it, too. And um.... um...."
Just as he ran out of things to say the ringing tone stopped. A clatter, like someone clumsily picking up the phone, and a soft "Hello?" comes through.
"W-Well, you did say that the FBI didn't have any walkers earlier, right? There! I could just go back and you'd never see hear a peep ever!"
If he could just think of a way to quickly leave without either upsetting more things or tripping over his own feet... Oh, right. His hand shot into his pocket and pulled out a phone. Oh, surprise, the backwards fellow had actually managed to get hold of one!
"Um... How does this thing work again?"
Looks like he still has no idea how to use the thing. Except maybe pressing buttons. And perhaps understanding enough the sequence of buttons to press to make a call to someone. The tone trills away.
Great, caught nice and good. Just the way he wanted his little errand to work out. He wasn't sure if he could out himself of the cell this time, but now that he thought about it, there was really nothing about staying in the cell except for... Yeah, well. He really did not want to face the burning walls again. Speaking of which.
"Oh yeah. Did you um, did you ever go back down to um, well, check on me? I mean, not that because I escaped, because I didn't - no, that's not the point. Um. Did you even open the door? Or was my being here the only thing that informed you that I'm not in the cell anymore? So that made it if I didn't come in, you wouldn't have known, right? So in the future I should learn to avoid the houses of anyone in the police department. Don't walk within a mile of them. Yeah."
Quickly, stall for time. Meanwhile, he could edge carefully back. Carefully. Don't topple anything, don't touch anything, and most certainly don't pull one of Marie's erm, imaginative stunts and explode the house with a force field. Like he could still do that. Right. Why had he even entertained that thought? Never mind, back to edging carefully down the hallway. Try not to arouse even more suspicion than there already is, got it?
Or maybe under the detective's sharp eye, that was useless too. Worth a shot, though.