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There were plenty of places that Harlow would have preferred to be than in the dark, cramped waterways beneath the city. The similarities to their final memories of a prior lifetime were unpleasant at best. Harlow had been doing their best to ensure that unpleasant was all that they remained as they walked with quiet footfalls that came in a steady rhythm. Every so often, they allowed their attention to drift toward one of the untaken paths, an uncomfortable pressure resting across the back of their neck. Across their back. Phantasmal weight threatening to crack their ribs and cripple their breathing. Mental, they knew, but still too close to real.

At the very least, Glory continued to keep them warm, even when the stagnant air should have long become too chilly to be comfortable. 

The scout’s question brought Harlow’s thoughts back to the present, eyes darting toward the group’s temporary guide. There were plenty of reasons why Harlow had come despite their misgivings with being in the sewers. 300 silver wasn’t much, especially to someone whose time was often spent on higher value jobs, but it was probably all that the ones making the request could afford. It was unlikely that anyone else would take the job for a pittance, and for as much as Harlow wanted to be anywhere except the sewers, they could hardly deny the request in good conscience. 

After all, if they, a grown adult with little reason to fear danger, were so unsettled by their current location, then the victims were certainly worse off. Cold. Alone. Cramped. Suffocating in rot. Unsure if they would live. It was a bad place to spend one's last moments.

[i][color=D4C9C4]'…ah. Is it too late to answer…?'[/color][/i] Harlow realized they’d kept their silence for a moment too long as usual. It wasn’t like their reasons for taking the job were all that important in the end, right? And more than that, they couldn’t do something like speak for the other two, even if they doubted Thalorian’s reasons would be very different. 

And how were they supposed to put all of that into an answer? Was the guide genuinely interested in their thoughts? Renauld probably wouldn’t appreciate the reasons (or perhaps excuses) either. Was he mad at them? Harlow wouldn’t have blamed the sorcerer for being annoyed. By then, the silence had dragged out even longer than before, driving another wedge of uncertainty into Harlow's decision.

[color=6ecff6]"It’s the right thing to do."[/color]

Harlow’s back stiffened slightly, their head turning to glance back at Thalorian as he spoke. It was a comfort, in a sense. He was familiar as ever, enough that Harlow’s usual rigidity was lightened with a soft exhale on their part. Life in Ceosia wasn’t as predictable as life back on Earth, but Thalorian’s steadfast adherence to virtue was a constant that could be counted on.

And, at last, they found their voice. 

[color=D4C9C4]"…I don’t like the idea of people dying down here alone."[/color] Though their words lacked in expression, Harlow’s hand found itself gripping part of their coat, fingers curling until the fabric was balled up tight in their fist as they pushed away unwelcome memories. Easy. Breathe. Nobody liked it when they got emotional. As if in response to Harlow’s attempt to smother it, Glory's heat burned a little hotter for a moment before settling down. [color=D4C9C4]"My body is likely better suited for being here than most either way."[/color]