OA has started walking, and he strives to keep up. They're as tall as a highblood, and it feels like they're taking three steps for every one of his. It only takes a minute of this before he gets fed up, and loops his arm around theirs.

"Sorry," he says, when they look at him. He flashes his most winning, apologetic grin. "Short legs!"

Where is he staying? Um. That's.. a great question. Landmarks flash through his head, but street names are not his forte: he'd left his combustioncart at a resting facility, he knows that much, but he hadn't exactly been planning on going back to his hive today.

And unfortunately, resting facilities in a city like this are a dime a dozen. Leaving a cart out in public is an excellent way to get it stolen, or ruined by drones, or marked up by lusii: facilities where your cart will be watched are the only option for keeping the cart.

"I'm staying in my cart," is what he says, after a long moment of hesitation. "But, haah, would you believe -- oh, this sounds awful. Um. I don't precisely remember what facility I left it at."

"But there can't be a lot of them out here, right?"