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Imnolu slipped his earring back on just to be safe, in case they came back and some janitor or someone had unlocked the door. Well, if they landed in the room while a janitor was in it, that would be hard to explain. He'd worry about that if the time came.

He whipped out his henshin pen and flipped it between his fingers, giving Isidor a quick grin. "Troilus power, make up!" he said, and in a flash, he was in his fancy magical duds, giving a twirl for the flair of it.

"Quick, better go before someone detects me," he said, taking hold of Isidor's shoulder. "Hope you're ready!"

In the next blink, they were on Troilus. His jaw immediately clenched when he realized he'd landed them right where he'd left when he came to Earth.

Just outside the home he'd shared with his husband and son. He tried to cover up the feelings to pay attention to Isidor's reaction to being in a completely different place. Magic was commonplace for himself, and watching someone experience it for the first time in a positive way was sure to be entertaining.

Even if the storms were here also, his home still looked... beautiful. Everything was loud, at least visually. Good to know the way their paint was made seemed to last for a long time, at least. Clutter still seemed to drape every corner of the world, but well-used, well-loved clutter.

Lived. The past tense hit him harder than he expected, and he gave Isidor a befuddle blink as tried to figure out how to respond to that. Of course, it was accurate—he simply couldn't live on an empty planet anymore, now that he'd been woken up from his millennia-long slumber and come to Earth. But it still hurt to have it so... shoved in his face like that. Not that it was Isidor's fault. For him, it was long-dead history he was just discovering, and he was a history professor, to boot.

For Troilus, though, it was barely four months ago. Five? He wasn't quite sure.

He inhaled shakily, trying to keep his emotions at bay. They were here for a reason. "Yeah," he said, the emotion raw in his voice anyway. "This building right here? My husband and my son and I lived here. It feels like yesterday."

He bit his tongue sharply. Get it together, he's here for information, he told himself. But as if hypnotized, he strode towards the building and lay a hand on the pillar that marked the start of the short staircase to his dusty home. Here, near his knees, was where Seiche had drawn little stick figures of himself and his parents. Imnolu hadn't even been mad about it at the time. It was cute. Imnolu's ears were way too big. Taran was exaggeratedly taller than himself. And Seiche had drawn himself, for some reason, doing a superhero pose. Probably trying to imitate his senshi father.

"It's not," he whispered, ears drooping slightly. "But... I have to move on at some point. Take the first step towards healing. Taran and Seiche will always be my family, but they're gone. I don't even know if I'll be lucky enough to catch them while they're reincarnated in the rest of my life. The cycle could easily be longer than a thousand years. Or shorter, and I've already missed them."

He took a shaky breath. "And then I'd have to hope they'd want anything to do with the loser who just laid down and slept while his world died around him. Who let them die to be reincarnated in the first place. It's... I'm sorry, I shouldn't be dumping all this on you. You're here to see if we can help Earth."

Rubbing at his eyes, he pulled out his senshi phone and sat on the steps of his old home. He patted the spot next to him invitingly. "Save the living and remember the dead later, huh?"

"Well, that was her bad decision," Troilus said almost reflexively. He matched Isidor's tired, miserable smile. "I mean, sexy professor, that's on a lot of people's Dreamboat List. Uh, please tell me I'm saying that right, or I've made an a** of myself."

He huffed a little laugh and scooted closer, offering his phone screen to Isidor. "Here, see, we've got reports about the lightning strikes causing shadows of snakes to appear—that'll be Mr Calamitous Hollow—causing weird, uh, magical frequency issues, and we've got plans for these satellites that will help put a shield around Earth while the rest of us try to trap this Herald of the Dark Star guy. We're trying to find the sixth spike we need to hold him down, but we've no clues. There's a video here from the ghost of Queen Serenity—Uh, she ruled over the moon a thousand years ago and is a pompous, self-important, sweet-talking little—perfectly fine lady who is trying to help us all not die!"

"Oh, an intolerable personality can be tolerable for someone as Isidorable as you," Troilus responded with almost lightning quickness, as if he'd had that pun locked and loaded since the moment he'd learned Isidor's name.

If the quickness of it didn't tip Isidor off to that, Troilus's s**t-eating grin sure would. He handed the phone fully over to Isidor so he could push play when he was ready.