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He'd learned, over time and with the increasing amount to which he cared about supporting his Mirror, his Court, and his existence as Hybris, to know when he was too much in the moment when draining. Too likely to let the wraiths draw too much, too quickly. Wraiths more likely to be endangered by his distraction. He learned when to leave instead of cause problems, which was surely some kind of character growth he'd never sought for himself, but there it was. So Hybris was only slightly undone as he left the club, cravat hanging loose, collar only slightly open to reveal a few small bruises, hair a messy tumble of curls escaping a barely there ponytail.

Breathing in the night air, he felt easy and relaxed, his mind mind slowly clearing as the tide of bodies ebbed and disappeared behind him. Even the presence of the negaverse, a general? Didn't trace too much tension down his spine.

And then, abruptly, his body was nothing but tension. The warm, shifting light of his nightmares stood in front of him, painting him over in bright hues while the happy and smug senshi was replaced by frozen, animal panic alongside the sticky twist of morbid fascination. And then...

Oh. An order. A use. He'd live.

The voice was...wrong, was Faustite throwing it? It was the sort of trick Hybris would normally delight in, maybe still would. For now, he simply responded, his own voice as mild as always. "Yes, of course." Along with learning when to leave, this boy had once very clearly shown Hybris when to not run.

He lowered his eyes to his compact, covering the fear and hot, jittery something else in his gaze with a gentle sweep of lashes. "Good evening, Prince Remarque. General King Faustite would like to speak with you. We're in the alleyway behind the club Urban Collapse, in the north eastern downtown district."

The message was clear, polite, and full of nothing but necessary information.

At least it followed orders. Faustite let out a smoky sigh. Now there would undoubtedly be a wait — such was the stipulation when the other party couldn't teleport.

In the interim, Faustite gave up on watching the club door to look at the Mirror Twink. Looked a margin disheveled. Had some bruises like he found himself a spot of fun inside. Faustite wondered if that meant the wraith they used was unsupervised, darting between people like a spastic shadow. This one might not have been draining at all — just using the melodramatic outfit to find a good time.

The more he looked, the more he realized that this one was actually quite attractive — which was almost unfair. He disliked and distrusted the Court; the last member that he had a fondness for bailed for the unflagging ineptitude of the White Moon. Faustite thought he was free to hate the Court as much as he wanted now. He didn't need ******** feelings telling him otherwise.

Faustite's attention went back to the door as he wished someone would pop out, if only for a short distraction. He could drain them, turn this meeting into something productive, and finish out their wait with a few extra energy orbs. No one showed, though; he was stuck out here with a boy that looked cuter by the minute.

He snorted. Then came the stark, blanketing aura of a Dark Mirror Royal, however briefly.

Faustite shifted, arms crossed, to survey the incognito Prince as he arrived. He hadn't kept them waiting for long, to Faustite's benefit.

Headache echoed what he signed. "Not here." Not that he wanted to deal with ******** Mirrorspace, but there was no other option if they all wanted privacy from the White Moon's prying eyes — and Destiny City's denizens with their astonishing lack of self-preservation.

“Good call,” he said, as if there had really been much of a choice. He hadn’t imagined Faustite would be much for the club scene, and it was too busy here to trust that they’d have a productive, private, conversation.

Unattached to the location, he’d already half turned to depart for the mirror he’d just come from. He walked at a slightly slowed pace to allow the others to catch up if they wanted, but he didn’t seem to mind if they followed instead.

His exposed back could have easily have been as much a sign of trust as it was confidence.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I was wondering what you’d been getting up to. I’d say it’s good to see you but I’m guessing this isn’t a social call.” Faustite didn’t seem like a beacon of excitement and he’d never come across as much of an extrovert. Remarque wasn’t ignoring Hybris, who was surprisingly quiet, he just thought it prudent to fill the silence before it could breed tension.

“The mirror’s not too far from here, I’ll walk you through. Hybris, we’ll meet in the Common Room. Fair bit of warning, Mirrorspace is being a bit odd of late. A few members of my Court have told me the mirrors are misfiring.” Maybe it was the truth, or maybe he was just trying to give Hybris an out if he wasn’t comfortable sticking around. “I’m going to guess you and your kind are having problems of your own?”

Caught between watching the youma and taking in what he considered a light show of magical politics between leaders, Hybris suddenly straightened at his name. Oh yes, he was here and somewhat part of this wasn't he? Although, Prince Remarque did seem to be giving him an out if he so chose. Really, his prince was both observant and kind in ways that Hybris was more than happy to benefit from.

Though this time...

Noting the small portion of shifting lights on Faustite's shoulder that seemed to shift with his own movements, Hybris offered them a little wave and decided it might be fun to follow and watch. At the very least, he'd have gossip for Hella and Lete later. And he'd be safe, right? With Remarque there and in the territory of the mirror.

"I think some of the changes have been rather pretty. Like having windows to go with our mirrors," Hybris offered softly. Though the view was not always pleasant, it was all truly interesting. Also, it was rather cute when the wraiths gathered around one. As they approached the mirror, he gave the youma a beckoning gesture, curious to see if part of it could split off.

'Speak only when spoken to' didn't apply to the Court's rank and file, it seemed, for Faustite shot a withering look at the Senshi of Eggplants when he spoke up about Mirrorspace's latest oddities. He didn't recall asking for opinions on the matter.

Faustite's attention shifted back to Remarque — sharply — when the Prince said to relax. Normally he'd have happily busted someone's face for telling him to relax, but when it was followed up with something as sweet as 'I'll keep you safe' (particularly from a Boy), he was immediately met with conflicting feelings. Faustite's reproach all but dissolved away in the aftermath of unwanted, burgeoning affection. Much as he tried to focus on the matter at hand, Faustite missed the question sandwiched between statements entirely.

And while he might not have had complaints about where he wound up, Faustite would be demanding a refund on his energy from Metallia herself if his teleportation 'misfired' and put him somewhere other than where he expected to be. Maybe mirrorwalking wasn't as conceptually dangerous as teleporting could be.

Surmising that he would have to hold onto Remarque for more than a fraction of a second, Faustite huffed out his incredibly unconvincing disappointment. Pulling his leather cincher from subspace, he wrapped it about his grate and fastened it with its metal clasps. Afterward, he felt only feverishly warm as he tucked closer to Remarque.

He could only guess what fresh hell Headache would give him once their meeting was over.

In preparation for whatever surprises Mirrorspace had in store, Remarque shifted from Eternal to Prince in the split second before he stepped through the mirror with Faustite. Thankfully, Mirrorspace understood the need for an uneventful travel; when Remarque stepped through the mirror, he instinctively raised one wing as if to shield Faustite–and Hybris, if he walked close enough–as they passed from Destiny City into the realm of mirrors.

The Common Room welcomed them with a familiar sight–pale white walls, with faint trails of smoke clinging to the ceiling. A tall, golden framed mirror was visible in front of them, and to the left, the dark floor to ceiling doors that led to the Throne Room.

While the doors were closed, the mirrors seemed lively enough to distract.

Three wraiths scurried across the room with little more than an echo of glass on marble; they leapt through a mirror hung low to the ground before Remarque could even get a good look at them. A quick scan of the area indicated no major immediate issues, but he noticed two dark mirrors on the far wall. He gave Hybris a brief look, just to make sure he was okay, and perhaps to silently invite his attention to the mirrors.

“Here we are,” Remarque said confidently, and though he released Faustite he didn’t step further away. It wasn’t easy to travel with a youma made of fireflies, not when there wasn’t anything to grab, but he assumed if they didn’t make it along, Faustite could have summoned them easily enough.

Mirrorspace was pleasantly cool, maybe something welcome given how warm Faustite was.

“Would you like a chair or a look around?” he offered, finding no issue playing the role of obliging host. “Whatever’s most comfortable to you, I know you had something important to talk about?”

Following behind the two leaders, Hybris idly thought that if he was in the general king's mismatched shoes, he'd faint a little and set the prince carrying him. Though sadly, Faustite likely wouldn't cherish the chance and would rather set those glorious wings on fire. Tsk tsk.

Exiting into the Common Room, Hybris's eyes immediately went to the two mirrors holding the charming oddities he'd begun to look forward to. Meeting Remarque's gaze, he beamed at what seemed like permission to go get a closer look while talks continued.

Giving Faustite's collective youma a smile of invitation, Hybris made his way to the mirrors. "Hello ~ " he cooed softly, as he often did to the reflections found in Mirrorspace.