TC: *snorts, reacting on reflex* No such place. *pauses, studying the three of them . . . two mini femmes but still /Seekers/, and this other mech who's very /name/ makes him want to trust him . . . finally drops to his knees and folds over* Please . . . my wingmates have /maybe/ a half-joor before they're likely found by the police, and our third probably doesn't even have that long left at all. We'd /rather/ die than be sent back . . . but . . . I-I don't want to lose my trine. Please… *exhaustion, fear, and lack of fuel might be talking more than anything – or at least leading him to /admit/ to more than he normally would – but right now he doesn't care, he doesn't want to lose his trinemates*
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