As Merrick passed, he got the impression that the Goblin's scrutiny was not aimed at him, but at Cress. He remembered their treatment of one another differently. They weren't friends, but they were both old, and cranky, and difficult to know. Actually, they were almost the same person sparing the ear hairs long enough to use as floss. Any strangeness he continued to see as an indictment of the clumsy transport process. "If Roger stole a golden toothbrush from him, might want to get that sorted out."
Anomalies stacked higher. He'd compared her to Jack Skellington, who she'd dramatically claimed to be her one true and enduring love during their hellebore high the summer before. Cricket hardly reacted. Tense and still, the reach for his face interrupted his scrutiny. He covered the back of her hand with his palm as she spoke, wrapping fingers around the fine bones to feel the inside of her palm. It'd become habit to check for the crescent shaped callouses she gouged with her fingernails when her stress was high. Brushing smooth skin free of blemish, relief eased his suspicion. She was doing well. He could handle irregularities.
"No." Incredulity muted his voice. "Not alright." He shook his head so that she could feel it. "I don't have time to fuck around." People killed time until they realized not much remained. Being what she was, she had a different perspective. That shouldn't have annoyed him. A white hot particle of anger flared, not fully his. James worked his jaw, then tipped his head to the right, hard. His neck cracked audibly, releasing tension. A rough sigh left through his nose.
"I don't want to leave you, alright?" The ember went unaddressed, but continued to glow. "Let me help. If you want to stop by the menagerie..." She was missing any trace of Gray's scent. Like a horse with a rider yanking his reigns, James pulled his head back, breaking the tender contact of her head resting against his. Weeks spent in a cramped Jeep meant he knew the smell of the Menagerie Manager better than he did most of the Cirque's employee base. At first, he'd hated it. A great deals of grief could have been avoided if he'd skewered the guy on a rack of antlers when Gray had jumped out of that hospital window, but as weeks passed the warlock bothered him less. He was an objectively likable sort. James had started to switch camps on the issue. His turquoise menace had even begun to look less like a Lunchables snack when James had gone feral.
Concern canvased his brow. "You both made it back?" He need not ask. If they hadn't, she'd have said so immediately. That raised another question. Spending significant time with someone blurred scents as a cocktail of body chemistry and pheromones, a sort of joint signature. Cress was blackened florals, light musk, vanilla and amber. She smelled only of herself now, unadulterated. He took her face in his hands, always with the care given to something fragile and priceless. "Are you not with...? What happened?"