By technicality, Emmet didn’t have a problem. His brother had a problem, and Emmet had decided that it was his problem, by proxy.

When it came to matters of social interaction, he was usually content to step back and let Ingo take the lead, but this was the second time he’d passed through the station’s main body-- on the way to and from the security office-- and his twin was still speaking to the same person, looking as if he’d rather be in the deepest tunnel within the system. Emmet had long since promised his brother that he’d stop inciting conflict with uncooperative patrons, so Ingo wouldn’t appreciate it if he involved himself with provocation in mind, but he had a somewhat different angle of approach in mind.

Without unhooking the pokeball from his belt, Emmet released Archeops onto the floor at his side. The raptor’s eyes scanned in either direction as he processed that he wasn’t on one of the battle trains, but the station itself. After the information filtered through, he looked up at his trainer, plainly asking why.

Across the way Ingo pressed a hand to his chest, trying to convince the patron of something. The man he was speaking with looked both unswayed, and more than slightly hungover, which explained a lot.

“He got stuck.” Emmet said, gesturing mildly to the scene in question. “We’re going to get him unstuck.”

Archeops was usually quite easy to work with, once one understood how he functioned; he took to the new rules surrounding Kari and Rael quite well, for the most part, but there was one new habit they had yet to break him of entirely. Only weeks after the passengers came home, he had learned how to mimic their crying, which was disruptive and distressing for everyone who didn’t have the privilege of being Archeops. The greatest problem was usually that the unprompted commotion woke one of the boys from a nap, and often startled them into crying, themselves-- but there was a different, involuntary, reaction that Emmet intended to put to use.

“I am giving you permission to cry. Once.” He told Archeops, and it looked at him like it was trying to find the catch. Emmet nodded across the station, reminding it that the offer wasn’t being made out of the goodness of his heart-- he had his own Rapidash in this race.

Archeops visibly filled its lungs, watching him all the while to ensure that it wasn’t about to be scolded, and when it decided that it was in too deep, it turned its beak the way its trainer indicated and did its best impression of a squalling infant.

As the noise wound down, a relative silence hung in its wake. A number of commuters-- and one member of staff-- were staring in his general direction, but the sound itself was a mundane one, and many weren’t bothered to begin with, choosing to go back about their business.

Ingo hadn’t turned to look in full, so the shift in his posture was only partially visible. It was fortunate that he’d left his hand idling on his chest, because it meant that he had less distance to make up for as he hastily folded his arms in front of himself. His embarrassment made him loud enough to be heard at a distance as he said, “I’m terribly sorry, but an urgent matter has arisen, and I need to attend to it at once.”

He kept his arms wrapped around himself, one hand reaching to clutch his coat tighter for extra coverage as he fled toward their office. The entire time he was pointed in his twin’s direction, he stared daggers at him, and when he was near enough, hissed, “I’ll remember this.”

“You’re welcome.” Emmet said, staring blithely ahead, resisting the urge to turn and track his brother until he left viewing range. The man Ingo had been dealing with was squinting after him, as if he’d only just realized his conversation partner left.

Emmet recalled Archeops, then killed a few minutes lingering in the annex, and when he was reasonably sure he wouldn’t immediately be kicked out of their office, he trailed after Ingo. His pace was more relaxed than his twin’s had been, and with the amount of time he’d left as a buffer, he was reasonably sure that Ingo should have the situation under control by then. He felt a little bit guilty abusing that particular reflex, but his brother hadn’t removed himself from the situation, and if he wasn’t going to take care of himself, then Emmet would do it-- by force, if need be.

Just to be courteous, he knocked on the door twice before entering, and was immediately subjected to a doleful stare.

As he crossed the space, Emmet righted the coat that had been haphazardly draped over Ingo’s chair and stopped in front of him. While he processed the fact that his brother still had his arms pressed firmly against his chest-- suggesting that his body wasn’t cooperating quite as much as he might have liked-- he didn’t clock it as he also folded his own arms, uselessly mirroring the gesture.

“Still leaking?” He asked without preamble.

A corner of Ingo’s lips twitched in true irritation and he tilted his head down, altering the angle of his stare to make his malcontent that much more obvious. “I think that should be self-evident.”

Emmet grimaced in apology and dropped down onto the couch next to him. There wasn’t anything he could do to help with this particular hurdle, but he could be there to lend a sympathetic ear. This hadn’t been a problem for months, but that was with a consistent schedule for feeding the boys; changing it in order to get back to the station full time had thrown things off kilter. As he sat down, his brother’s nearest hand shifted, like he wanted to do something, and then reminded himself that he couldn’t move his arms yet.

“Why on earth did you think that was an appropriate course of action?” Ingo asked, doing absolutely nothing to hide his exasperation.

“He was bothering you.” Emmet said, somewhat aware of how feeble it sounded.

It was answered by a dry, “So is this.”

“That’s normal. Whatever he said to you wasn’t.”

His twin made a small, frustrated noise, and finally released the pressure against his chest. One hand dipped beneath his collar-- open two buttons down-- to test the bra beneath, and it seemed that he was satisfied with the result; he relaxed his shoulders and half-turned away, waving for Emmet to do the same, opposite him. Emmet did him one better and got up to dig through the supplies they kept on hand, emerging with a fresh set of nursing pads, which he blindly handed over.

Honestly, it wasn’t a big deal if he saw anything-- it wouldn’t be the first time, and, in spite of the circumstances, they still weren’t that different from one another-- but he got it. What was normal at home would feel more like being exposed here, even in this relative privacy.

He distracted himself with the forms finalizing a number of recent bans from the Multi Lines, skimming through them in case he recognized any of the names.

“He was confused, that was all.” Ingo said, hands busy with cleanup, but, just as Emmet had, he’d found a way to occupy himself.

“About?” There were a few topics that could have caused the offense he'd seen in his brother’s posture, but without anything to work from, Emmet couldn’t pin down which one was the culprit.

“The passengers.” Ingo could have left it at that and Emmet still would have understood, but of course he went into further detail. “He was unduly concerned about their parentage, and was quite insistent that you were involved.”

While he recognized that the droll intonation meant there was more to it, Emmet whipped around on instinct, insulted on both of their behalves. He only remembered why he was listening with his back turned after the fact, but it was fine; there were a few more buttons undone, but nothing important was visible. Ingo waved a hand, as if brushing the accusation itself away.

“Not like that, actually. His concern was that a wife I was previously unaware of had been unfaithful.” Where it had garnered exasperation in the moment, now enough time had passed for Ingo to find amusement in it, instead.

“Projecting then?” Emmet wasn’t sure whether that version of events was better or worse than a renewed round of the usual gossip.

His twin focused on the buttoning of his shirt rather than the turning tides of speculation. “It’s possible; there was evidence to suggest he had been indulging rather heavily last night, and the red line had just let out.”

That explained a lot, actually.

“Virbank.” Emmet snorted.

Ingo shrugged, once in a literal sense-- admitting that he couldn’t say for certain-- and once to shrug on his waistcoat. He left it unfastened as he stood, giving himself the room to straighten the shirt underneath. Emmet leaned back against the arm of the couch, trying to look unassuming, and when his brother was done redressing, he reached over to the cinch the vest tight; the slack had been bothering him for days, but Ingo was still too self-conscious to approach it. As the garment unexpectedly tightened around him, he startled, whirling around to face his benign attacker.

Emmet leaned back to avoid the sharp turn, but didn’t miss beat as he tapped the back of his hand against his twin’s middle. “See? All gone.”

More flustered by the suddenness of it than bothered by the contact, Ingo flapped a hand to drive it away, and then took a step back for good measure. He felt around for the clasp and, to Emmet’s dismay, let the slack back in.

“I recognize what you’re trying to tell me, but I’m afraid I still need the extra room up here.” He explained, gesturing mildly to his chest, but not so bold as to touch it so soon after getting everything settled. After a second, he held that hand out, smiling in his own way, and Emmet took it.

Once Emmet was upright, Ingo went back to making himself presentable, and Emmet passed him to grab his wayward hat and coat. The first, he shook out and wrapped around his brother’s shoulders, and the second he held onto-- for just a moment longer.

“There. You need that or people will start mixing us up again.” He said, punctuating it by plopping the hat down on his twin’s head; he managed to hold onto his laughter long enough to eke out, “Your wife already did.”

Ingo clapped a hand to his sternum-- high enough not to risk any further incident-- and used his free hand to put his hat right. When his eyes landed on Emmet, they were bright and lively.

“Homewrecker!” He gasped, taking a running step forward, and Emmet got the idea. They’d wasted enough time here; it was time to venture back into the fray.

He stuck his tongue out and turned, wrenching the door open to tear down the hallway, his brother in hot pursuit.