Ghost starts, his optic widening a little as he turns to look at Steve. His shell spins once, twice, before he says quietly, "Thank you, Steve."

It's good to be reminded that he's not alone. That it's not just him and, well, a memory in need of guarding.

"Now that's a great comparison. It's the way everything's so jumbled together, I think..." Bryn is too busy talking and walking to notice Steve dropping back. Ghost's gaze darts after him though, the little bot hesitating before he returns his attention to Bryn. After all, he trusts Steve not to do anything foolhardy around here...

Neither of them has a clue to what Steve is observing. Perhaps the field is weaker here, weak enough for unscrupulous people to find ways around it. The pale fellow here, with the ridged face? He speaks in low and meaningful tones to the guy they just escorted off the main street. The latter's shoulders slump; within a few moments he sucks in a breath and nods.

This is the cue for the tusked guy to knock him off his feet with a blow to the gut. The pale one leans against the alley wall to watch.