Technically, it's a tactical evasive maneuver, just like repurposing some car only to end up here, in this dilapidated church, with fog punched up against the glass, conspicuously thick, mist swarming the building on all sides. No need to remind him twice that he's the bearer of shitty ideas and a shittier ideology, scrunched down low in the pew, ruined by paranoia. Filling his throat up with alcoholic spirits is a bad substitute for the pestilential despair of it, fingers loosely flexing, in and out until their gazes hold.

"We can't— we can't be sure we saw anything out there to begin with. If there's really something in the fog... how much farther can we get without a car right now? Or any supplies?"

These things have to be handled slowly. Abruptly, Ryo hand snaps to attention, snaring his wrist by means of negotiation, diplomacy drummed down to nothing more than prolonging the inevitable.

"Let's keep looking around. There might be something we overlooked."