The travel to Piltover passes in a blur. Mel informs the nearest Enforcers of the body they found and excuses herself before the officers can trawl through their surprise and confusion enough to ask her questions she doesn't have answers for.

Mel ducks into an alley and presses a hand to her head - leans against the wall for support. She can feel the anxiety radiating through the city in waves. Out of sight, the pressure lessens but doesn't leave. She lets out a ragged gasp.

Footsteps behind her: the Zaun woman still following for some reason. Mel tilts her head and glares.

"You like seeing me like this?"

Sevika's mouth twitches upwards and she shrugs noncommittally, they both know the answer. Mel senses a mild vindication from her - but beyond that, calculated interest.

"You can go, you know." She gestures vaguely. "I doubt I'm in a condition to be much of a tour guide."

Sevika snorts, raises an eyebrow: "I'm not interested in sightseeing." She pauses and looks her up and down - smiles and Mel feels a rolling amusement like it's her own.

Sevika likes watching her squirm but she isn't malicious; she thinks Mel has something to offer.

It's almost comforting.

She blinks. "Do as you like." She's in a bad state for evaluation, but admitting that feels the same as defeat. At least her voice is steady. "Let me know when you figure out what you want."

"I know what I want."

Sevika doesn't elaborate. Instead, she turns casually to assess the empty alleyway.

"Why are we here? You practically ran from those Enforcers - do you have something to hide, Councillor?"

"Besides the terrorist at my hip?" Mel sighs. "No."

"Why, then?"

A frustrated crowd passes the alley and Mel makes the mistake of looking at them. She ducks her head and winces, choking on anger that isn't her own. "Was the terrorism not enough for you?"

An amused hum. "Not really."

She doesn't grace that with a response. Mel bites back a groan and blinks rapidly, eyes to the floor. Sevika can think what she likes; the nasty headache she's developing makes it difficult to care for witty retorts.

It's quiet for a minute. Sevika shifts her weight and Mel feels the woman's gaze rest on her face.

"You're overstimulated." It's not a question. "Jinx sees things, sometimes. Is it like that?"

"I'm not hallucinating." Mel snaps, harsher than she means. She takes a moment to collect herself. "The mage who - took me, did this. She called me an empath. I don't know how to turn it off."

Short, to the point. When did she become so blunt?

Sevika tilts her head; hums - leans against the wall. She reaches to her pocket for a stub of a cigar and lights it. "Do I have to worry about you blowing us all up?"

This is already too much information. Mel doesn't trust this woman, they don't know each other. She's handing her secrets to a stranger in a moment of weakness; giving away her hand when she barely knows what's on the cards.

It's stupid - reckless. But perhaps a stranger is what she needs right now; memory of the familiar tainted as it is. Sevika is a steady presence if not a kind one and there are worse places to find trust than in consistency. She thinks of roses and darkness and a figure cloaked in the faces of those she loves.

"No," Mel says, eventually. "I don't think so. My magic is reactive - reflective. Don't shoot me and I don't have a bullet to fire. For now I'm only a danger to myself."

Sevika nods, once.

"You should probably get that under control."

An easy assertion to make for someone not experiencing the problem.

Mel doesn't care. It takes her a moment to realise that feeling isn't hers, either. She thinks she would be angry otherwise; it's a strange sensation. She frowns. "I'm trying. I just - I need a minute."

Sevika… hesitates. That too is a strange sensation. She feels the woman stop, considering - then turn to walk away.

On impulse she reaches out, hand snagging her cloak.

Mel isn't sure why she does that. Sevika turns back, shifting to keep her metal arm covered. Before she can speak Mel takes a half-step forward, still clinging to the cape in her fist. "I didn't mean for you to leave."

Sevika blinks. Her voice is low and tinged with apprehension - confusion: "Why do you want me to stay?"

She doesn't know, it's difficult to think. Intentional vulnerability to a Medarda is like bearing your throat to a knife - it's not done. Her instincts are absent but she knows what they should be; yet she acts against them regardless. Sevika's apprehension is preferable to the intensity of the city.

"You're calm." Mel stops, considering. "It's not so bad, reflecting your mind. Proximity… helps. At least until I get this under control."

She doesn't meet Sevika's eyes. There's a tug, the cloak is yanked from Mel's hand and she flinches.

There it is, the indignation. Less intense than when they first met but still unmistakably present. Beneath that… Mel is trying to understand the complexities of projected human emotion when a hand takes the back of her head and Sevika pulls the fledgling mage against her chest.

Both of them are very, very still. Mel should be afraid - she's not. She takes a second to realise that's intentional; Sevika is carefully blank, her feelings held and quiet. Mel steadies her breathing as she quietly reevaluates her perception of the other woman.

"Thank you." She says, muffled by the fabric of Sevika's shirt - Sevika hums in response.

Mel… collects herself. She's steady, there's time to think. She probes her mind for a flicker of magic, for a feeling she knows is her own - finds nothing. Le'blanc has taken her apart and put her back together and she doesn't know what pieces are new - what pieces are missing, built and restructured like one of Jayce's machines to prevent a calamity she knows nothing about.

"You're shaking." Sevika steps back.

Is she? Mel blinks. Oh, she is. She acknowledges that in a vague, clinical sense and isn't entirely sure why it's happening. She looks at her hands as if they hold answers - rubs her eyes and is surprised when they come away wet.

"Oh," She says. "I don't feel like crying."

Sevika looks at her strangely. "It's not something you do on purpose."

"I know," Mel gestures vaguely by way of explanation. "I mean, I don't feel like much of anything. I'm outside of myself - no more than a passenger. I don't know why I'm crying."

"…Right." Sevika is frowning at her. Empathy is no help, whatever her reaction may be is held too close to her chest. Mel doesn't feel an absence; she finds with some interest that restraint itself can be classified an emotion.

She watches Sevika pause, then fish something small from the inner pocket of her jacket. She flicks her hand open so a purple vial is held between her two fingers and angled towards Mel.

"This might help."

Mel blinks. "That's shimmer."

"It is."

She stares. She's seen illustrations, of course. Of all the things to be hung up on she wasn't expecting it to glow.

"It's an enhancer." Sevika shrugs - "If nothing else it'll certainly make you more present if that's your problem."

Mel's hand flexes, the liquid seems to pulse. She reaches forward - stops. Her gaze flickers and she drops her hand. "I can't take this."

The vial disappears as quickly as it was produced.

Sevika grunts and Mel feels stupidly as if she has failed some sort of test. She doesn't care, shouldn't - bites down the urge to make an excuse like she needs a reason not to take illicit drugs in a back-alley with a terrorist she met this morning.

"Alright then, Councillor." Sevika tilts her head - the title anything but respectful. "What's the plan?"