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It was not very often that Babylon got to practice his french. He'd mostly used it with his father, and since his death a year ago, he'd had little cause to practice. Still, it was hard to forget your native tongue. "Bonsoir," he replied, giving the page a little nod. The french didn't seem so weird to him - after all, Camlann had only spoken Russian for like a solid three weeks. At least this was a language he actually spoke.

He raised his lantern and stepped towards her, and in the better light, it was clear that she was rather worse for the wear. Babylon's brow crinkled in concern. "Es tu blessé?" he asked. It was sort of obvious that she was, but he wanted to see how forthcoming she would be. Injury was something he could help with - but only if she wanted it, and he knew that sometimes people were too proud to ask. Everyone had injuries that they'd patched up on their own and lived to tell the tale about.

But that didn't mean he couldn't offer. "Je m'appelle Babylon. Je peux tu aider s'il te plait."

Un petit peu seemed to be an understatement for someone who was leaning against the back wall of the alley for support. Babylon sighed and took a few steps towards her. "Assieds-toi," he suggested, gesturing to a stack of packing pallets. "Qui tu a fait ça?" He was willing to bet on the Negaverse, of course, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to make sure. He'd heard of knights attacking their own, and while he wanted to believe that everyone (but mostly Megiddo) was beyond that nonsense now, he needed to be sure. "Était-ce le Negaverse?"

Question: How did you decide the french grammatical gender of a shadowy paramilitary organization? He'd never had to consider it before. Was it sexist to just default to le?

"Oú as-tu la pire douleur?" he asked, after a moment of mental calisthenics trying to put the sentence together. His father had taught him French for the sake of reading Le Petit Prince, not for conducting triage on teenaged girls in back alleys. (Hyperborea, he thought, looked entirely too young to be a page, but chibi knights weren't a thing...? Maybe she was just young-looking for her age. He'd been that way, too, until he got hella buff and acquired a mean-looking facial scar and some scruff.)

"Désolé," he said, setting his lantern beside her on the palettes and kneeling in front of her. "Mon français est un peu... rouillé? D'ailleurs, j'ai un enchantement qui peut tu guérir."

Damn straight I'm a formal vous, he thought smugly. He was twenty-three. He'd ******** earned it.

Babylon nodded. "Je vois que tu es très forte," he assured Hyperborea. He would have rather she not be fighting at all, but a case of you should see the other guy was probably okay. Just as long as she didn't go thinking she was invincible - he knew where that could lead.

"Pardonnes-moi," he said, pulling his right glove off. He reached forward, touching his bare fingers to her cheek, and eased energy over to her. "Il ne sera pas guérir tout de suite," he explained, "mais tu te sentiras mieux plus rapidement."

"Bien?" has asked, pulling his hand away. It was always guesswork to figure out how much energy to give, and one of these days he was going to do it wrong and totally get someone high.

Anyway, he thought he'd been doing okay getting along in French, but switching back to English was a welcome option - he didn't have the vocabulary for most magical things. "Yes," said Babylon, cracking a grin. "That would probably be for the best. Trying to discuss magical concepts is always easier in English. They don't translate very well - or at least, I've never tried."

"Yeah," agreed Babylon easily. "I don't think my dad ever had this in mind." The swelling on her cheek seemed like it might have gone down a little bit - but he didn't want to give his magic too much credit. It was a simple mechanism, a transfer of energy, not a true healing spell.

He reached over and picked up the lantern. "Well, um, it gives light, obviously," he said, but that wasn't what Hyperborea was asking, he didn't think. She wanted to know about his magic. "The energy transfer is a side effect of being 'all glowy,' like you said. My magic is different. Hold on. I can show you."

He stood, lantern in hand, and held it to eye level. After a moment, it brightened considerably. Babylon grinned down at the page. "Lie to me," he said.

Babylon laughed and lowered the lantern, the magic fading. "I won't tell a soul," he assured her. His magic never failed to amuse him, at least with members of his own faction. With Negaversers, it tended to just be depressing. Hearing someone parrot their devotion to Chaos was worse when you knew it was a sincerely held belief.

"It forces people to tell the truth, if you couldn't guess," he said, hoping that he hadn't ruined the evening. There had to be a way to get a smile out of her - right?

Well, he'd give it a try, anyway.

"Your secret's safe with me, okay? Promise. Scout's honor."

He held out a finger, pinky-swear style. "So. Hyperborea of Cosmos. I've met your princess. Cool lady, Sailor Cosmos. Saved my life. I've got nothing but good stories about Cosmos Knights. You're in good company."

Babylon was glad that he had apparently not scarred the little page for life. "Well," he said, "I know a few." Which was to say he mostly knew Hvergelmir, and he sort of knew Teide, and he was passingly familiar with Sarras. Past that, um, maybe he'd given her sort of the wrong impression.

"Like I said about your princess," he said, trying to get away from the subject of Cosmos knights, "She saved my life. I was messing around with magic I probably shouldn't have been, and Cosmos set me right. You know, she's probably the most powerful being in the known universe? Good lady to have on your side."

Anyway, he thought, what else did he need to go over someone who appeared to be a very green page? Right! Babylon held out his hand, bouncing his ring finger to draw her attention to his signet. "Have you been to your Wonder yet?" he asked. "When you go, you should look around for something like this. It will let you send messages by writing the recipient's name and stamping the paper with your sigil."

Babylon grinned, surprised but also pleased. Maybe someone else was already mentoring this kid - he hoped so. Pages left to their own devices were easy prey for the Negaverse. "Wow, okay. So you're way ahead of the game. No reason to be sorry for that. My friend Mistral - she's another knight of Mercury - made an upgrade for the rings. Lets them do video chat. It's very Help me Obi-Wan Kenobi. I'll talk to her about getting one for you."

Another night, he might have offered to take her to Babylon at her prompting, but it was late, and she was injured, and even with the second wind he'd given her, Babylon would rather spend his time making certain that Hyperborea got home safely. "It's an ancient city build into the side of a mountain," he said, standing up, picking up his lantern, and offering his free hand to her.

"Come on, let's walk and talk. I'll escort you home."