What is the social protocol for "Help! There is a basilisk chasing me!"?

Xavier was now fairly certain that he had gone in the right direction, he could see the Caldecott Tunnel where he wanted to be. Unfortunately, that might not matter because he was currently running for his life not entirely towards the tunnel. You see, he had been doing fairly well until he came along a basilisk. And they shoot flames. They also are poisonous to the touch. The flames were not quite as much of a problem as the utter devastation the poison could wreck, but that was still a problem. Right now, his arms had probable first-degree burns, but thankfully it wasn't worse.

The legacy was tired and actually hungry, he could feel his stomach gnawing at him, and he had gone, well, he didn't know how long he had gone without food. Still, it was catching up to him. He was exhausted as he ran, and the war hammer was not exactly helping him with either issue. His only hope was to actually go to the tunnel. With a grunt, he headed in the direction of the tunnel. The voices in his head surprisingly silent on the matter.

Xavier was not exactly the fittest person in the universe, and at this moment, he was profoundly thankful for his brother and his gym teacher insisting he learn how to run long distances at high speeds. Otherwise, the fast snake behind him would be doing more than drying the sweat on his shirt with those flames. How long could he keep this up? He wished he had some weapons on him. OH!

Now at the road, Xavier was almost made into roadkill, but spun around it and then moved off to the center of the road. It wasn't a terribly busy day for the road, but maybe someone could pass by and hit the snake? Maybe? He bolted directly for the tunnel, waving his arms a little. "HELP! HELP!" He yelled, hoping that there would be someone at the gate. Wasn't there always someone at the gate? "BASILISK!"

Xavier had no idea what the girl was doing when she aimed a finger at him and then doubled-over. He didn't feel any different. Was this some sort of weird Legion thing? Oh no! What if it was a weird legion thing and they had different customs than the rest of New Rome? He hadn't prepared for that. What would he do?

The teen was distracted by that thought, he narrowly missed being hit by a large truck, maybe he was lucky. The truck on the other hand wasn't, it hit head on into another and fell over on its side, releasing a bunch of caged... Were those polecats? Or ferrets? Oh that didn't matter. The basilisk was still running, slithering, after him. He looked forward again, still running as fast as he could. It took him another two minutes to make it where the girl was, and surprisingly, he hadn't been burned or poisoned or killed. Yay?

He looked back and saw the furry creatures wandering around and no basilisks in sight. "Maybe those were weasels." He thought out loud. Then he looked at the girl. Was she okay? Was he allowed to ask if she was okay? What was the social protocol? What had that thing been earlier? "I think those were weasels." THAT IS NOT THE RIGHT THING TO SAY!

Xavier was caught off guard by the younger dark-skinned girl grabbing his arm. Pain shot through it for a moment, a millisecond, until the touch became deep and almost comforting. And then nearly ripped his arm off. He stumbled and ran after the girl, did girl have a name? Did girl say her name and he wasn't paying attention? Girl probably said her name.

The sounds in the Caldecott Tunnel were almost enough to floor Xavier. He hasn't been expecting it. He should have been expecting it. Sound was amplified in tunnels. Echoed. It was already loud in his brain. Car engines and swerving, screeching of tires, radios playing static and noise louder than his brain could translate. He probably would have frozen stiff and held his head to make it all stop, a soothing but ineffective method, except he was still being dragged.

The two didn't stop until they were side the gate of the tunnel to New Rome. He knew where he was, even though he was still disoriented by all the senses. The older teen didn't wrest his arm away from the girl, but hugged himself tightly with his other arm and rocked slightly.

Societal norms and social protocol insisted on thanking someone who saves your life. Often with a verbal response. Gifts of chocolate are also acceptable. Xavier made a mental note to get chocolate for the girl, who didn't look as exhausted as he felt. What was the colloquialism? Something to do with weather. Breezed? No. Why couldn't people use real terms? Xavier didn't say anything as he looked back to the door, then to the girl, who was still holding his arm.

Say something. Something nice. Say thank you. Smile. "Weasels?" No! "Thank you." Much better! Now smile. Xavier's face may have twitched slightly, but aside from looking tired and his eyes betraying how overwhelmed he felt, there was no other expression.

Xavier didn't really believe in luck. There were statistical probabilities that could be predicted, and sometimes manipulated. Of course, Fortuna was a goddess and that meant luck maybe did exist. Who knows, maybe she was looking favorably on him. Why? Needless to say, though, a truck of weasels was not a strong probability and it happened.

Xavier followed the girl through the tunnel, trying to focus on her instead of the hum the lights were making. He could fix that. Or he bet that Ricardo could. He hated florescent lights humming. So did Xavier. For much the same reason.

He fingered his hammer as they walked and Spencer, as she was called, introduced herself and then completely stopped making all logical sense whatsoever.

"My name is Xavier Vance. I do not know what a nubtu is. Is it a Latin based word? My cardiac health has been screened and is not in question. What would do the sucking? Is it like a vacuum?"

Spencer blinked. What is he on about?

"Ex-cuse me?" she asked. "Vacuum? Cardiac health?" It seemed like he was taking everything she said literally. "I just meant -- nevermind. Camp is great. How long have you been traveling?"

OOC: Sorry for the short and sucky post.

Xavier stared at the younger girl. "You made a comment about the faint of heart. My heart is in excellent health. I don't know how long I've been travelling. Since leaving the wolves, I think, three days? Three days. Yes, three days. This is the third day. Not quite three complete days, but what would be considered three days colloquially." He said, looking over the girl. "Are you well? You look...either wounded or perplexed. I am not sure."

Xavier looked around. Yes, this was New Rome. There was no doubt about that. "Ah, um, thank you, Miss..." Did she say her name? No, he was fairly certain she hadn't said her name. He didn't remember. She probably did. He probably wasn't paying attention. Maybe she didn't and she wouldn't think he was strange. He wasn't too strange. Only a little strange. How were they going to get across the river? "Ah, how do we get across the Little Tiber? I...um...am not skilled at swimming."

Xavier did not say that that's what he was afraid of, but that's what he was afraid of. The current being strong enough to pull him under. His palms started to sweat, and his heart rate increases as he looked at the Tiber. "And there's no bridge at all?"

Xavier followed, his face blank despite feeling seriously concerned about the river. He didn't like waterz, he had never learned how to swim well, and he didn't want to drown. He didn't like the sensation of the water pushing against him with a strong current.

The voices in his head, the ghosts, were louder as he walked towards the Little Tiber following Spencer. "How does one get chosen for a cohort?" Xavier asked, mainly because focusing on the living breathing biological creature was better than the voices in his head. Most were trying to tell him to run from the river. Which would make sense, rivers rarely boded well for the dead.