[ Regret is a terrible thing to play with. Gustave knows it because he has his fair share of them, almost thirty-three years of them, so he thinks he can see when someone carries theirs around too. What he doesn't know is why it's there now. Did he regret letting him live? Did he regret that he didn't step in faster?

He's not naïve. There's something here he doesn't know, but he can't let curiosity get in the way of common sense; being on the Continent wiped out whatever naïvety he might have still held on to. Whatever this dance was, it was going to have to wait until they weren't facing down whatever this thing was, this common enemy of theirs. ]

Right. Yeah. [ It's too... human to be one, but it wasn't human enough either. ] Seen a lot of them? Nevrons.

[ It was stupid small talk, but it helped a little with the tension. Gustave thought so anyway. He was a nervous talker. Always had been.

And he sees what the guy is trying to do, sees the merit of it, so he holds his ground and tries to keep this not-Nevron caught between them. As if drawn by movement, she lunges for this stranger and Gustave swings the blade for her legs, cutting her down. Whether that would actually stop her or not was yet to be seen. ]