His arm continues to follow the curve of her body, her legs being lifting bridal style as the coat wraps around it. She's half inside of his well tailored coat, though torn from months at carnival by now at the tails, and he shrugs it off to set it over her shoulders like a proper gentleman for now. He'll just get it back from her later.

When the clones disappear, so does his tentacles, them stretching out into the air and fading all together, his arm tightening so she doesn't fall. "The fae? You mean Sir Ignatius. If I'm correct, he should be where we are going so if your Tadpole Jackson is still with him..." But he doesn't want to assume.

"Not exactly. I'm just walking on the air."