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Babylon hadn't been expecting to find Hyperborea around the next corner, but he adjusted quickly. "Bonsoir," he said, looking her over. He'd read about her parents - it wasn't often that a wealthy couple in the suburbs were found grusomely murdered in their own home, and the Karpusi mansion was a difficult house to forget. He'd been worried about her, of course, but there wasn't much you could do to help people who didn't reach out.

Anyway, he was sort of regretting not sending the first, awkward letter, because??? She looked like s**t??? "Hey, kiddo," he said, smiling haltingly at her. Well, here was a sticky topic to bring up. "You're not looking so hot?"

He sighed. "Look, I, um, I read about your parents. Where are you staying right now? Does anyone, like, related or responsible for you know where you are?"

She didn't look like she was being taken care of, which was really especially worrying because she was so young. As Hyperborea she could take care of herself, sure, but as Ciel, the streets were as mean as they'd ever been - and besides, being a homeless teenaged runaway wasn't a good look on anyone.

So, thought Babylon, what she was basically saying was that a) it was probably one of those hotels where the rates were calculated by the hour and as long as you paid in cash, no one cared that you looked like you were twelve and b) no one with any kind of legal responsibility had any idea where the ******** she was. Not her grandparents. Not the department of youth and family services. Not her school. Zippo.

"You know," he said, "There are like, actual government employees who are experts in handling displaced youth?" If her parents had been brutally murdered literally days ago, her grandparents were probably already aware - and worried sick. "But it's like definitely no longer office hours for them, so that'll have to wait until morning. Still, in my capacity as a responsible adult, I can't really let you continue to wander the streets?"

Which he knew sounded patronizing, but that didn't mean it wasn't good sense.

He bit his lip. "Was it Chaos?" he asked softly. "Do you feel responsible?"

Without context, he thought, that probably sounded cruel. "A Negaverse general stabbed my father through the chest in the middle of our own living room," Babylon added. "I feel responsible for that. I can't tell my family what happened - they think it was a home invasion. Murder. A cold case. But thinking like that - that's blaming the victim. I didn't kill my father. You didn't kill your parents. Chaos did that."

He shrugged. "Look, we should get going. I have a couch and some chicken soup with your name on it. I'm not going to leave you out here alone, so don't waste your breath."

Babylon pursed his lips. Hyperborea clearly had opinions on the topic of her independence, but being headstrong and a squire did not mean anything when you were simultaneously fourteen years old. "No one said anything about leaving the city," he said. "Just about the people responsible for you knowing when you are. The teenaged runaway look isn't good on anyone." Fourteen and living on the streets? Phenomenal cosmic powers or no, you were likely to wind up raped and bleeding in an alley somewhere. Babylon knew the statistics on homeless youth.

"I have friends who know the foster system," he said. "They can work things out with your grandparents, get you into the dorms at Crystal Academy. You won't have to go anywhere." Kaatje might not have had this exact situation in mind when she came up with the idea for Florence Court, but the goal was to help the vulnerable members of their factions, and Babylon didn't think he'd ever seen anyone more at risk (although not for corruption, just willful self-destruction).

Anyway, there was a crying girl in front of him and Babylon considered himself fairly well-versed in the care and keeping of crying girls. "Okay," he said, reaching out to pat her on the back. "That's still not your fault. Every senshi in this city has powered up in their bedroom half a dozen times and had nothing come of it. You did something that, while conventionally unwise, is generally proven to be perfectly safe."

"Furthermore, you left, and from the sounds of it, pretty quickly," he added, trying to think of some way to make her feel better and transfer the blame. "Your aura wasn't there for the youma to follow. It moved with you - away from the house. Knights don't leave, like, lingering magical dust after they're gone. So your parents being attacked was either totally random and therefore a coincidence... or some officer wanted to make a point about capitalism and the one percent. Those things take orders. I've seen them do it."

Avalon's youma, he thought with a shiver. Oenone's little sister. What had happened to her, now that her general was gone...?

"Either way, not your fault," he said. "Come on. You need a hot meal and a good night's rest."

He held a hand out to her.

It's really ******** hard to help people who don't want to be helped, he thought.

Something resembling progress had been made, thought Babylon, as Hyperborea slipped her hand into his. He'd done all he could to assure her she wasn't guilty - but he knew from experience that that wasn't the sort of pain that faded lightly. His father had died over a year ago now, but... it still hurt. He'd spurned Avalon. He'd brought that on his family. But she was the one who held the blade.

It was all he could do to assign guilt as best he could and try to move on.

He guided Hyperborea along as directly as he could, stopping about a block away from Florence Court to drop his powered glamour. "A friend of mine - a senshi - owns the building," he explained, waiting for Hyperborea to do the same before advancing closer. "She's overseas for her job, so I'm looking after things for her."

He showed her into the apartment building, closing the vestibule door behind him. "Couple of married senshi on the first floor," explained Finn. "We've got some knights upstairs. My fiancée Arkady and I are on the second floor, but she's away at her Wonder right now."

He waved her into the apartment. "Anyway," said Finn. "I believe I promised you soup. Do you want one matzoh ball or two? I mean. Um. They're like dumplings. In chicken soup. I made it last weekend."

"Yeah," answered Finn, ladling soup into a bowl. "That's sort of the idea. People are less likely to corrupt if they feel like they've got a community, or at least that's the theory." He started the microwave. "Can't offer rooms to unaccompanied minors, but if you need somewhere to come do homework, there's a rec room in the basement."

"And. Um. Earth." He swiftly interrupted the microwave, pulling the soup out on the first beep. "She's a knight of Earth. Avalon." If Ciel had heard that name before, he didn't think it had been from him - but if there was damage control to be done, best to do it now.

He set the soup down on the coffee table in front of Ciel. "I'll get you some blankets. The couch pulls out, but it might be more comfortable to skip that. Up to you."

"Yeah," said Finn softly, returning with an armload of blankets. "It's just like out of the legends." Not like Babylon, which held no hanging gardens or great ziggurats within its walls. He set the blankets down on the end of the couch.

"The bathroom's over there," he said, gesturing. "I'll get a towel out for you. My bedroom's at the end of the hall. Knock if you need anything, and don't worry about waking me up. Just put the bowl on the counter when you're done with it."

He shrugged awkwardly. "You need anything else?"

"C'est rien," replied Finn easily. He'd been raised to be generous, and helping people came naturally... even if he expected there would probably be some kind of fight in the morning over calling CPS. If Ciel wanted to stay in Destiny City, then Finn was ready to fight for her to stay - it wasn't as if she'd be any safer in Europe, were the Negaverse had an even tighter hold.

After all, that was what had happened to Camlann originally.

"Good night, kiddo," he said, turning and heading into his bedroom.

So: that was interesting.