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Generally, Ilmenite preferred not to have multiple witnesses, people who could identify him later. This wasn't because of a fear of being discovered, himself, of being found out by senshi and marked down. It wasn't because he dreaded being located and caught in the act by someone who might do him harm. It wasn't because he through they'de recognize him on the street.

It was, simply, because he looked nothing like a senshi. If later one of his energy-drained victims had it explained to them what had happened, they'd be able to say 'Oh, the guy in the plaid', and two and two would add up to Negaverse. And the Negaverse certainly didn't need more bad publicity.

He was beginning to think, though, that they didn't really understand what was happening to them anyway. Ilmenite certainly hadn't put two and two together until much long after.

Besides, this cluster of definitely-over-eighteen girls in two short skirts had been drinking pitchers of cheap Corona in the bar. Two of them could barely stand upright, giggled helplessly as he asked them for a cigarette, and one of them even winked widely and obviously when he smiled at her. They weren't about to remember anyway.

So he stayed in the alley with them and he flirted without any real intent, smoking a cigarette and draining the energy from them slowly enough that they wouldn't notice.

The girls were a little bit dazed, looking tired by now; leaning against the wall with their bubbly drunken-ness just faded out to fatigue. They looked at Ilmenite, then at MuCephei, and couldn't get anything to add up into some kind of logical sense. One of them was all but dragging him down, clinging to his elbow to keep herself from tumbling and -- well, she was the worst of them.

The voice brought a distracted Ilmenite's head up. For a moment he stared at her, stricken, probably afraid -- but then something calculating clicked onto his face instead. His expression shifted toward mock-horror, and holding the still-lit cigarette out of the way, he caught one of the girl's around the waist to send her down the alley.

"Oh god, run! A terrorist! Run girls, before she hurts you!" Stupid as they were, the girls picked up on his tone, even if they were too sluggish to properly take off...

"Oh, yes, because threatening me makes me the monster..." The girls were stumbling away in their shoes, muttering to each other, wondering exactly how they'd gotten that drunk. Ilmenite flicked a look back after them, rolling his eyes but keeping his tone serious, at least.

"I'll hold her off, you just get safe inside!" And while they ran, he looked back to Mu and raised an eyebrow, summoning his weapon. He was more prepared this time, twirling it around a finger, his shoulders and legs tensed. She could throw her magic at him again, but he'd seen it once. He'd recorded it [in Latin] and he'd remember it.

He thought he could dodge. Probably.

He was ready for it, this time. Well, not for that exactly, but as her arm snapped out he dove to the side, rolling out of reach. The ribbons ripped past him instead of tearing through him.

Of course, Ilmenite wasn't graceful. He wasn't an athlete. He dove and he got out of the way, but part of the consequence of that was a skinned palm and the weapon tumbling out of his grasp. He didn't roll up easily back to stand, but at least neither did he sprawl there stunned.

A moment, and he was shoving himself up and trotting forward a couple steps to chase his weapon, and grab it before it got out of reach.

"...ribbons, this time. No "Ribbons" last time." He was a little breathless, but his tone was still interested, eyes locking back on her.

As far as Ilmenite was concerned, having dodged once meant that he was improving. Dodging twice would have been something of a miracle, and he'd take what he could get. As it was, he tossed himself to the side and threw his arms up in one gesture. An elbow slammed up against the wall, leaving his fingers all but numb, and the daggers still dug angry lines across his shoulder, digging through the thick fabric of his jacket.

With a curse, he set his bolas to spinning, and this time he got off the toss -- sending them flying through the air toward MuCephei. He'd been practicing with these. He could hit the tree a good three times out of four. He just couldn't guarantee hitting it in the right place.

Again he dodged -- tossing himself in the other direction this time, and only getting skimmed. The ground did more damage than her attack, tearing through the knees of his pants and the skin beneath, Ilmenite growling in frustration as he struggled to get back up to stand. He drew in several deep breaths and was already moving back away from her.

"How many times can you do that?" He really did want the answer, it wasn't just frustration speaking. Ilmenite had always thought they only had so many in them...

She caught him easily -- but he grunted and reached out quickly to catch her as well, working to wind long arms around her waist. Ilmenite wanted to get behind her, turn her hands away from him. Or better yet, restrain them. If she couldn't move her arms, she couldn't fling blood at him...

Still off-balance, stumbling a little, his leg throbbing a bit, Ilmenite cleared his throat. "...you people really are violent, aren't you."

It might have done some serious damage, had he still been a lieutenant in his shorts. As it was, the thick fabric of his pants at least protected him some, reduced it to an aching scratch and getting a low grunt out of him as she moved. Ilmenite's arms loosened; she could wriggle free as he clutched after her, drawing in a couple deep breaths.

"...pacifist my a**!" It was sharp, lacked the joking edge now, his head tipped to the side and eyes watching her hands carefully. He didn't want more whips or daggers. "As I recall, both times we've met up, now, you attacked me without warning."