Hinnom is too close, close enough that he can smell the cluckbeast they ate for breakfast, and he is entirely unhappy with this chain of events. The only thing that keeps him from recoiling is the fact their eyes are baby gray and harmless, and the fact that this contact might be the difference between living and dying.

It's still terrible, though.

"Don't listen to her," he hisses at Hinnom. If he wasn't holding their hand, he'd clamp his fronds over their sponges, just in case. It's got to work, and if Riccin fucks this up, he'll bash in their stupid head before the drones take off his.

He doesn't feel any difference, yet, but maybe Hinnom isn't thinking hard enough - or maybe that's how psychics work. He didn't have a warning with Rmeros, either, and with that thoroughly unsettling thought in mind, he starts pushing on his powers.

Pheres doesn't know Capitol City, and his spatial awareness is entirely fucked: he can feel Riccin stepping forward behind him, and the empty space of the sewers below, but the buildings might as well be pencil thin for all the impression they're leaving. They'll likely end up in the river, or in front of a cart, or vivisected by an unexpected wall, but it'll still be better than just waiting to die.