Choking on the dust in the air as it settled, Fargo could make out the toe of a shiny black boot among the wreckage. He held his breath as he stared at it, only exhaling when he saw it twitch.

"Claudia?"

Before he could get any closer to where the girl had fallen, the clutter began to shift and a sputtering Claudia appeared, coated in a thin layer of filth. In a whirlwind of flailing limbs and more than a few muttered curses, the red-head sat up and turned wide eyes towards him.

"I think this is karma for the time I kicked a birthday clown when I was eight. Is birthday karma a thing?" Her lower lip jutted out into a pout, "Birthdays suck."

Giving a sympathetic laugh, he knelt down to help while she sifted through the pile she was sitting in to extract the radio. He pushed himself back to his feet and held out his other hand for her, "Well, I hope all you did was kick him if this is the scale of karmic revenge coming your way."

Fargo began to pull her to her feet but was stopped when she yelped in pain and fell back onto her backside, "Ow ow ow," she wrapped her hands around her ankle and hugged her knee to her chest, "That is not a happy feeling."

Squatting down in front of her, he gently grasped her foot, "You probably rolled your ankle. Can you move it at all?"

After delicately rotating her ankle, and determining that it was a sprain and not a broken bone, he slowly helped Claudia up into a standing position. She clung to him as he carefully checked for other injuries.

"You're a little worse for wear, but I think you'll survive," Fargo concluded, cupping her cheek while inspecting a hidden gash in her hairline. He brushed the stray hairs off her forehead with his thumb, and leaned in to leave a feather light kiss just under wound, "There. All better. Think you can walk?"

"Yeah, I think I'm good to go - ahh!" Claudia scrabbled to catch hold of him as her knee buckled, "Okaaay, maybe not. Now what?"

Looking down at her using him as support, his expression turned grim, "Well, I'm afraid there's only one thing we can do."

Claudia's eye narrowed as he led her to a still standing shelf, cleared a space for the radio to reside and stepped back from her when he was certain she would stay standing. "What are you.. Wait, no!" she exclaimed when he turned his back to her, "You're not leaving me here!?"

Still facing away from her, he craned his neck so he could look peer back at her, "Of course not," he huffed, sounding almost offended at the idea, "Now, what are you waiting for?"

Staring at him, she took in his stance directly in front of her, with his hands slightly cupped at his sides. As he gave her a pointed look, it dawned on her what he was implying. "No way," she furiously shook her head, "You can't be serious."

Fargo's brow furrowed as he frowned at her, "Completely. Piggy back rides are not to be taken lightly," he bounced his arms impatiently, "C'mon then."

Claudia hesitated, then sighed and placed her hands on his shoulders, accepting her defeat. "Ready?" she asked as he braced himself, "One.. two.. three!" Leaping as high as she could from one foot, Fargo quickly bent his knees and met her half way. Standing up straight, he adjusted her weight on his back while desperately trying not to notice how soft her skin was. Turning around to face the shelf, he moved close enough for her to grab the radio.

With her arms looped around his neck and the radio hanging against his chest, she listed to one side so she could poke her head over a shoulder and watch where they were going, "All good?"

"Perfect," He softly bumped her head with his, and grinned when she turned and pressed her lips to his temple. "Off we go!"

Claudia gave a shriek as he took off running, and squeezed him when he laughed as he slowed to a more reasonable pace. While being mindful of the ongoing catastrophe raging around them, Fargo took time to enjoy the moment and the fact that this eccentric young woman seemed to like him, quirks and all. He would have scoffed if someone had told him this is where he'd be tonight; Claudia pressed tightly against him, not to mention the location of his hands, running for their lives from colossal aliens straight out of a science fiction theater piece.

"Home stretch," she breathed into his ear, clearly relieved as they approached the entrance to the aptly nicknamed Goo-ery. A sliver of diffused magenta light indicated the door was already slightly ajar. Claudia extended her uninjured leg and pushed the door open with her boot.

Carefully making his way down the first flight of stairs and stepping onto the platform above the comparatively quiet space, the pair surveyed their surroundings. The room was surprisingly unscathed, aside from a broken door latch and a cracked window. The contents of the room below them were bathed in a soft purple glow, emanating from a room deeper within the space beneath their feet. Following the grated walkway towards the next flight of stairs, Fargo could see the over sized gears slowly churning, keeping the goo stations stocked at all times, apparently regardless of functioning hoses.

Hopping off the last step into the main room of the Goo-ery, Fargo silently observed the equipment that kept the plant running. The open floor plan allowed him to glimpse dials and meters that he itched to inspect, but Claudia impatiently steered him towards the depths of the plant where the glow was brighter. Passing under the walkways where they had arrived, his jaw nearly dropped as they entered a huge expanse of a room with vaulted ceilings to accommodate the silo-esque tank of neutralizing goo. A smaller tank about as tall as Fargo himself and connected by a spiraling glass tube that siphoned off the main tank, stood next to a work table filled with neutralizing bags and cylinders of varying sizes, the signature purple gloves, and safety goggles.

Doug made his way to the table, reluctantly let go of his fare and slowly let her slide down his back so she could stand next to him. Setting the radio on the table, Claudia found a cylinder that would that could house the radio and, with his help, dragged it in front of the smaller tank. Hobbling back to grab the artifact, she slid it into the cylinder and positioned it under a spigot. She strapped on a pair of circular goggles that resembled welding goggles and handed him a standard pair of lilac tinted safety glasses. Gripping the handle of the spigot, she paused and looked back at him.

"Here goes nothing."