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Yes, yes, it was all coming back. How to behave in civilization went a bit further than merely not pissing on the posts. It was also restraint, gentility, and not knocking someone over the head with six feet of solid hardwood for being rude. Indeed, young Harakan had kept a lid on a good head of steam for when he found that merchant. But when someone in a hurry nearly bowled that poor foreign lad over, the 'prentice surveyor had to grip that self-control tightly. Best avoid taking the legs out from under this lout in one great wallop; that sort of thing caused scenes, and one would prove more than enough today.

Instead, the Geian trotted towards a thoroughly confused Matoran, to see about helping him up. "Hullo, lad!" Even in the press of thick crowd, the hiker's voice carried, and carried well. There were brass instruments with less presence. Deep brown and sturdy, the Matoran's accoster sounded bigger than he was. "Everything alright? You look to be a trifle lost."

Green brows furrowed, a worried frown creasing the brown face. Firmly, but very gently, Harakan reached out and took the blue teen by the shoulder, attempting to steady him and put off what may have been the beginnings of a panic attack. The sheer volume of him lowered a few decibels as well, though it was just as deep and solid as before. "Good graces lad, breathe! It's important to breathe when you speak." Every syllable might well have been a hearty slap on the back. Should Rex calm down enough to get a good look, he might note that his new acquaintance wasn't actually all that tall a person. Even so, a space had formed in the stream of people by force of presence alone. "Here, I'm just back into this sprawl myself. There's a bench over here, out of the main traffic. Come on, let's get you sat down a moment, get your feet under you again."

Should the Matoran not resist, he would be guided to a long seat built of stone blocks and wood. The well-meaning Geian wouldn't force him, but simply stay until was ready, one way or another. "Truth be told, I'm not much for city life myself. Give me a good mountain any day. You know where you are, with mountains. They don't play silly buggers and sell you shoddy rope, they'll just toss you off if you put a foot wrong." He caught himself before the overwhelmed boy's ears fell off from all the talk. He leaned back a bit, making a little distance. "I apologize, don't imagine I'm helping. Where were you trying to go, unfamiliar lad by yourself?"

Green hair bobbed with the head as this newcomer resigned himself to staying home in a new place. This was the lad's own choice to make, after all. "Balls to that. Give up the first time, and you'll get no better at it." For all the flat refusal there, Harakan was still projecting good humor. "I've got some time free. I'll help. This isn't the worst muddle here, not by far. It can be navigated and overcome, now that you've a rest to get your breath. I ask again: where were you off to today?"

Being a 'prentice surveyor, he didn't have the luxury of giving up on new terrain, nor ignoring it. Topography wanted mapping, and that needed to happen on a reasonable timescale for anything to be done with it. Work crews needed information for any job. ...Besides, the Geian enjoyed it, and was of the mind that anyone could learn to enjoy exploration, if only they gave it a good try or three. "Think of it this way: give up, and this won't happen again. Never fail if you don't give it a go. But it can be done. D'ya think these folk started out used to being a river?" His head shook as he stood again, offering a callused hand up from the bench. "I'm called Harakan. Rather a stranger didn't drag you around town, so now I'm not, am I?"

Not being in the development sect himself, or at least not that layer, the young surveyor was at a bit of a loss. Despite his offer, he didn't live around here. ...But then, so many towns looked the same, it wasn't hard to find your way around. Or so he'd thought 'til now. "In this settlement... Hmm. Haven't been around this town all that often. Usually they keep those upwind, just in case of fire." His father, however, was on one of the urban development clades. "This area, that'd prevailing wind is north. Should be on the south side then. If not, fancy the city hall would have a modest library, or be able to direct us."

A sharp jawline only just stopped the smile from going around Harakan's head. "Pleased to meet you, Rex. We're a bit insular, out this way. From some of the tales, most other folk are warmongers that breathe smoke and spit fire. Not at all true," he hastened to say, "but from all the wars we hear about on the continent, it's still surprising to see someone normal, I think." Orienting himself south via excellent internal compass, Rex' new friend started a few steps, and stopped, waiting for him to catch up.

The laugh, when it came, came from the belly and diaphragm. It rumbled into a booming mirth. "Suppose we are a bit shocking, at that. Some of the Lightning folk spend all day thinking, and it has to come out somewhere. Most aren't so grand as all that." As they went, that deep voice kept at it, telling a tale and letting people know someone was coming through long before he got there. Perhaps he hadn't been shouting at all when they met, if this was his natural volume... "A ways back, they figured out how to determine north with a few bits of metal on a marked wheel. Then another gent came up with the telescope by grinding chunks of glass. Now they've put them together and we can use them to measure distances, given a man on the ground. I'm still puzzling out the maths, of course, but my supervisor says it's sound." His own part in the operation, the 'prentice didn't bother to mention, was standing out there holding a measuring stick for the older woman.

Rex's question managed to catch his guide off-balance. He fell silent a moment to mull it over in his mind. "My favorite? Hmm." Perhaps half, perhaps a minute passed, quietly swimming up the crowded lane. Harakan wasn't often in towns, comparatively, and he'd always felt restless in them. Needed to have the road under his feet, and later, no road at all. "Suppose it's the reliability of it, wot? We build to last, and plan it out so it might live up to those expectations." Not to mention the tools were made here. Wooden lathes couldn't replicate the work of one of those new steel lathes, they were finding. Limitations of material. "Oh! Almost slipped my mind: d'you mind if I make a stop on the way? There's this merchant what sold me bloody useless rope." A thumb jerked towards his pack, from which hung two coils of the stuff. On closer inspection, the ends were snapped, and the interior strands were anything but solid.

Dust, the grease and slight burnt metal of machines near the tinker section, a Belrean city was a sight to see, so long as you took it slow and got used to the oddness going up your nose. Now that Rex had got his feet steady, he seemed to be recovering his mental balance as well. A flash of encouraging ivories kept beckoning the Matoran youth forward. As they wound towards the general marketplace. "Sounds to me your ol' Dad's a trader himself. He didn't set up a stall here, while you stay?"

Harakan himself had only a vague idea of how merchantile endeavors worked. You bought or made goods, you stored them, set them up and hocked 'em. Probably more to it than that, but his was not a brain built for the subtle games of economics. In point of fact, one thing it was built for came to the fore as he spotted that damn Lightning's stall. A storm gathered in his face as that intial anger came back to the fore. The skinny fellow was debating the virtues of a leather animal harness with a Geian when the dark surveyor drew air in. When it came out, Rexonyx would know full well he'd not heard his new friend shout until now. "YOU! SCROFULOUS MISBEGOTTEN DUPLICITER! DID YOU THINK I WOULDN'T BE BACK?!"