[ His lips press into a thin line, but he shakes his head. Adrian has no more clues to offer than what Fern already knows. Perhaps they're more hurt than they know and are hallucinating all of this, or have long since died — all things that could happen, but they seem somehow less likely than happenstance. Poor Ireena had been depending on their aid, and now they've left the party at least two heads short. Not that there's anything they can do about it right at the moment.

He can practically feel Fern's irritation, but she doesn't register further protest and Adrian takes that as a win. She could just as easily knock him out and strap him to the back of her... whatever she has there, if she was so inclined. He ought not to tempt fate too much.

Sunday seems to take it all in stride as well, though Adrian is beginning to suspect that he manages everything with the same passive composure. He nods, grateful, and moves back to the matter at hand. (Granted, he does spare a moment to envy the use of that small wing near Sunday's face. It would be nice if he could keep his wings all of the time...) ]

I didn't notice anything on the road, no... my wheels all seem fine. [ At least, none of them have deflated in the time they've been idle. It's very odd, but he shakes his head. They should just get this sorted and move on as soon as possible. ] Let me fetch the tools and perhaps Lady Fern can help you retrieve the spare tire, Mr. Sunday?

[ Even if Adrian had both hands to spare, Fern is definitely the stronger of the two of them. Hopefully she won't mind him volunteering her. ]