The low rumble of a car drawing closer made Sylwen stiffen, just slightly, blue eyes flickering in the direction of the sound. Fingers began to slip down towards the whip attached to his belt, because even if his head would’ve been missing, he wouldn’t have gone down without a fight and he had no intention of doing so now either and—
—and then his mind finally registered that familiar voice.
Realization, relief, exhaustion and part amusement flooded through him and he let out a quiet breath as he allowed his hand to drop from the handle of the whip and down onto the ground, head slowly, carefully, tipping backwards to rest against the wall. Lips once more quirked into a tired grin and, in response to the detective, he simply meowed.
The detective let out a sighing breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and he smirked, rolling his eyes. Good, he was still conscious enough to be a jackass. That was some comfort, anyway.
Hakuba approached directly, gaze travelling over the area for any suspicious activity. Ultimately, though, he shrugged off his overcoat and huffed, offering it to him.
“Can you walk? Shall I carry you?”