Heron's gaze snapped to the young student, alarmed and a bit disgusted by her statement. 'What the fuck?' What happened to her that made her so ruthless? Still, he was glad to be on her side, whatever her power was. Tucking his shirt into his pants- which was part of the outfit that stayed with him during his transformations - he took his small bags of supplies and shoved them into the newly made pocket of fabric, trying not to think about the bleach possibly spilling and seeping through the bag onto his skin.
He seemed to stand there, motionless, until his body collapsed into a cloud of white vapor. 'Nothing fell, that's good.' It seemed his idea worked, sort of. While what he had brought wasn't visible directly, in its place was particularly thick fog, and it kept him from floating too high above the earth. Still, he stretched out into a long trail of mist to follow the Guardian into the compound, a thin white snake that passed through and around obstacles with ease. He kept a close tail on Hosa, slithering through the door she'd opened with the stolen key card. Noting her new form, he sped along the floor until he reached a door on his left that urged him to stop. It was just like the others, but there was something about it that he couldn't put a finger on.
The young man slipped under the door and kept to the wall opposite the door handle as he crept towards... someone. They were wearing nothing unusual, similar to average streetwear, yet they were typing madly on both an ancient box computer and a sleek tablet. Besides the glow from the screens, the room was entirely dark. There were windows near the ceiling, but they had been blacked out with paint and let in no glow from the outside world. He peered over their shoulder to get a look at what they were doing.
This person was a complete idiot, that was all he could gather. They were manually typing whatever appeared on the older computer into the tablet, despite the fact that there was a flashdrive right beside the clunky computer. 'What's on there?' He watched the person beside him for a moment before blowing the device off the table, it landing on the floor with a clatter. Heron shoved it into a dark, unreachable corner to hide it from the surprised typist. They, of course, misread what had happened and picked up a pen that was already on the floor when he got there. He slowly pushed it towards the shadowy wall as quietly as possible. Unable to read it himself, he'd have to bring it back to the group. He'd have to transform back, store the device, and retransform without someone seeing him. Heron tentatively came back to a human form, stuffing the flashdrive into an empty pocket.
But before he could go back, he felt a pair of eyes on him. He slowly looked up to find the idiot typer staring at him with wide eyes and a face white as death. They closed their eyes and shook their head, and he took that millisecond of distraction to become the air around him, remaining exactly where he was. He watched as they jerked their head around and even stood up to look for him. Then, with a strange, terror-stricken expression, they sat back down and wept softly into their hands. 'If they were anyone and anywhere else I'd feel sorry. But this is just plain weird.'
So, he awkwardly slipped back the way he came, climbing up the wall and into the air vents to more easily search for Hosa.
