Blarney stifled a yawn as he wandered, not speedily, from rooftop to rooftop. He was doing what was called 'patrolling', apparently, and he was doing it without a partner, in spite of what both Halia and Miss Garde had told him to do. He was nervous, he could (barely) admit to himself - that if he had a patrolling partner, that meant someone else also had
him as a patrolling partner, and he didn't know if he was ready to back anyone up yet. He wasn't even sure he was ready to back
himself up, but he could handle it if his own boneheadedness hurt
him. If his failure ended up with someone
else getting hurt, though? That was a whole other ballgame.
He was starting to become familiar with the city at night - the rooftops, which until recently had been little more than background dressing, were now familiar. He even had a favorite one (but don't tell the others) that gave him the best overlook to both the city and the stars - the two things that suddenly mattered to him the very most.
He was, again, following the now-somewhat-familiar tug that told him
powered person nearby. He wished this internal radar system of his came with color-coding, or at least clear labels - were they a Knight? A Senshi? Someone he already knew, or a stranger? It might be a bit much to ask of a radar, but if it could tell him whether or not they were a jerk, that would've been nice too.
Not that he'd really met any jerks so far. Maybe there were no jerky good guys? But Blarney found that hard to believe, just going by the law of averages--if Order was the only organization in the entire world--or, evidently, the entire solar system/galaxy/universe that consisted of good guys who were not also sometimes kind of jerks, that was the most magical part of this whole thing. The closest he'd come to a jerk - aside from that witch lady that had scratched his face with her pen,
she was definitely a jerk - was Miss Garde, who wasn't so much of a jerk as she was...blunt. Different. Every time he thought about their conversation he found some new thread to tug at, to consider, to turn over in his mind. No, Miss Garde wasn't a jerk - just very, very different than anyone he had met before or since.
A few rooftops later, he spotted her--skirt and heels. He could say one thing for his Knight outfit - at least it had sensible shoes. He thought she was probably a Senshi, based on outfit alone - it was more similar to Aruna's than it was to Mason's or any of the other Knights he'd met so far.
"Hey there," Blarney called down, sure to keep his voice friendly. "Everything good on your end? Anything exciting going on tonight?" Now that he was closer - he could see that his mental pronoun-assignment had been--presumptuous, perhaps. He felt immediately terrible about it, and opened his mouth to apologize, then shut it again, because he hadn't said anything out loud, and there was no reason to let the person know that he had, possibly, misgendered them. So. They/them until further notice, Blarney decided, firmly, to himself.
"I'm Blarney," Blarney added as an afterthought. "Page of Earth. Pretty new to this whole thing, personally, but happy to lend a hand if you need it!" He gave a wide smile and lifted a hand in a friendly wave.
