When Derfie began spinning the Captain around they went limp as a noodle, arms dragging out behind them at the victorious swinging. This wasn't happening, this was simply out of the picture... so he reformatted the picture, at least in his mind. In the matrix, this had the general effect of subtly affecting the vicinity in ways that might not be perceived until long after the fact.

In the real, it amounted to their craws turning to a singular ululation as Derfie brought him around to the sight of a shortish, dark haired and scowling man cutting through the crowd. Unlike Captain, whose accent was a senseless mixture of french and german, Snippy's british whine helped to mark him as a coppertop even if he otherwise seemed well adapted to real life by now.

"Mr. Snippy!" Captain cried, voice less terrified and more joyous than it probably should have been. It was a dangerous tone to one familiar with Captain's capriciousness. Attempting to noodle out of Derfie's arms, they flapped their massive hands like a pinned bird -- not helping their case of being called crazy! "Meet my muscley native guide! She is strong like bull, but quick like bee! I've taken her on a magic carpet ride that... where is my carpet!?"

The pants-scarf in question were currently being violently twirled overhead by a sweaty dancer just on the sidelines, a victory dance all its own. Captain was tired, overstimulated, and more than a little bit manic. This was a melt-down waiting to happen. He turned his attention directly to Derfie, unbothered by the lack of distance. Kicking feebly at her shins, they exclaimed, "you were the magic carpet all along!!?"