[Bel didn't have to be told twice. They dash right towards the tendrils, diving to hit the catwalk and slide the way under them. Perhaps it was the passing air, perhaps some part of Bel brushed something too small to be seen at Miles' range, but they went wild, one curling about the whole walk, constricting. The other brushes madly to and fro, seeking either of them.
Bel scrambles to their feet, momentarily clear, and makes it to the far terminal.]
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Bel scrambles to their feet, momentarily clear, and makes it to the far terminal.]