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Ilmenite's intent had been to resettle into routine, to indulge in a bit of fun and work toward his quota all at once, a quick wander down to the college bar scene. A cigarette in hand, it hadn't been hard to draw someone away from the crowd down an alley way, hunting for a light between sheltering city walls, leaning in close to light it up and...

Somehow, that had been a good ten minutes ago. Instead of draining the kid, a fresh-faced Sovereign Heights student of barely-eighteen, dressed in battered clothing designed to make him look older and to match his [probably fake] I.D., the officer had found himself wishing he were out of uniform. Ilmenite could chat as he was dressed, the clothing passable as part of punk regalia, tougher than what he would have worn on his own, but it put certain barriers in place. Their conversation had migrated around the school and teachers, Ilmenite subtly probing for information on some of the people he'd known there, learning most of the young man's schedule as he worked through his cigarette.

It was comfortable, relaxing after a stressful home environment, pleasantly distraction, and he was finding more and more that he didn't want to break the absent chatter by playing bad guy. So instead he stood leaning against the wall and bumming a second cigarette, perfectly normal except for the rather distinctively Negaverse aura he gave off.

The impact of landing was certainly loud enough to turn two pairs of eyes in Aster's direction, both young men frozen in the middle of their conversation to consider what could have caused the commotion. One of them was smart: he mumbled something frantic about maybe getting out of the dark alley and tried to coax his companion to come with him. The other was jaded: Ilmenite just huffing out a sigh and shaking off his should-have-been mark, gesturing for him to go.

At Captain, he certainly wasn't afraid of whatever that might be. Teleportation always made it easy to get away. Instead he eased forward a few steps, calling for his youma as backup, just in case something should go horribly wrong -- and his youma didn't come. Not immediately, anyway. He resisted, perhaps annoyed at its 'master' interrupting whatever activities it enjoyed in the Rift.

Well. Smokey'd show when he wanted to show and no sooner, and for the time being, Ilmenite moved in toward the source of the tumble, his tone probing, quiet. "...little spy, I think you need more practice."

His reply was a snort -- definitely not offering her a hand in return. He still had a cigarette burning down between his fingers. Obviously, Ilmenite hadn't been particularly concerned about this confrontation, about the prospect of running into errant senshi. Her failure to keep footing might have something to do with that...

"I'm pretty sure I could help you up, yeah." But, his tone implied, there was no chance in hell he would. Instead he stood out of reach and just considered her: looking the girl over as he finished off the remains of his cigarette, smoke curling up from one corner of his mouth.

"You scared off my new friend, you know." A gesture, toward the end of the alley, his mark long gone and Ilmenite hadn't got a speck of energy off him.

"...are you really smart or really dumb, Sailor Aster?" He still didn't take it. Instead he focused on his cigarette, flicking it into the very trash can she'd been occupying, still burning down. Smoke trailed it, more than there should have been. Ilmenite didn't seem to notice.

"I mean, answer honestly. Are you a half-wit who expects me to shake your hand, or are you hoping I'll grab it so you can, I don't know..." A rolling gesture, digging through his memory, and then Ilmenite spread a hand to show her the fine network of scars on the inside of one palm. "Shout some bullshit to your home world and spout tiny, dagger-like stalks on your skin?"

"Yeah -- great planet, and our planet." Ilmenite raised both eyebrows at her, leaning forward just a little to consider the sunflower emblazoned on the front of her uniform, the bright colors, the short skirt. As ever, he was grateful that he at least was on the side with better fashion sense. And more sense in general. Who the hell thought it was a good idea to wear white in a fight?

Behind her, the smoke was pooling, the shape of his youma starting to gather in close to devour what was left of Ilmenite's cigarette. Its eyes gleamed bright in the shadows of its dark shape.

"I'm pretty sure yours is up there somewhere." No stars showed in the heart of the city, but his vague gesture upward hopefully made the point anyway.

No senshi had ever gone that route before. The blow went a little wild, caught him a little crooked, but Aster's other blow nailed him solidly, getting a gasp and a flinch and a slow curl inward. Ilmenite abruptly wishing he had uniform a bit more like Chaonis's -- something with an armored cup there. Soft cotton pants didn't quite provide the required coverage.

She'd incapacitated her opponent for the moment. He at least wasn't rolling around on the ground, but it was a damned close thing. If he'd been alone, Aster might have easily won her first one-on-one interaction with a Negaverse officer.

Unfortunately, he wasn't alone.

Smokey watched its 'master' curl around his sensitive human bits for a moment before deciding to step in and take action. Aster was allowed a beat to celebrate her success before long, grey arms wrapped around her from behind, a hand sliding over her mouth and nose to cut down her air intake. It wasn't like being submerged in water. It was more like having a wet sponge shoved into her throat, the air too heavy, making it hard to draw in a full breath...

If Ilmenite hadn't been so curled in on himself, delicately cradling a very important -- and perhaps his favorite -- part of his anatomy, he might have done something to help her out. As it was, at the moment, he was still catching his breath. Checking for damage. God help the girl if she'd permanently damaged something...

So, for the time being, she was on her own against the youma. Her foot struck but softly, the smokey shape of the creature seeming to melt away before the force of the blow. Instead of kicking him back, she passed through, smoke dissipating away from the point of impact, drifting slowly upward behind her.

It didn't let go, but already the pressure against her mouth seemed less, the smoke gone thinner, the shape behind her less solidly grabbing. Balance off, Smokey leaned to one side and she could draw in one good breath between her fingers.

All it took was a few of those seeds pelting through the poor youma before he dissipated entirely, retreating back to the Rift. He didn't want to face the possibility of complete distraction, and apparently wasn't devoted enough to his Captain to stick around and play protector.

Fortunately, seconds were long enough for Ilmenite to recover, to get a feel for what the sunflower did. Kind of. It shot projectiles powerful enough to send his youma running with his tail between his legs. Not exactly what he wanted to get hit with.

His reaction, then, was to take two awkward, crooked steps to grab the crushed-and-bent lid from the floor beside Aster's ruined trash can and throw it up in protection. Seeds struck it, a rattling commotion that did surprisingly little damage. He stayed like that for one more moment before peering up at the senshi.