He wants to make some remark or quip in return for what sounds like a tease, but he settles on, "Roger!" with a lilt, and darts as Esteban does. There's no long strides nor wings to carry Tidus, but he does have a speed of his own, even this early in the morning. No time to care for groggy bones or else in the height of panic, what might happen if they delay.

They're not the only ones awake, emphasised by the other bodies navigating around the domed tents. Tidus sticks his head into the tent opposite the one Esteban investigates, nothing but strewn backpacks and sleeping bags. But he hears the sounds outside closer than others in earshot, has the spell already gathering with the balling of his hand and the grit of his teeth.

He sees Esteban appear with the person, if the sight taking him a second to register with the position of the wings. But he knows their plan, raises his hand - and someone rounds from the side, a sight in the corner of Tidus's eye that makes him look. They startle for a second too, but only need that long to decide to lunge at Esteban and the other refuge, in an attempt to grab them from his grasp, to kick and fight in a struggle of their creation.

Tidus grabs for them from the back, but he can't tell if the spell works; not when all he can do is yank at the cloth of their shirt to try and drag the man back. He earns a kick to his shin for the trouble, a gift he curses without restraint for.