The van's dents and dings are far less pronounced in this light. The motor purrs contentedly as Greg sits them inside, worn seats threadbare but soft.

"It's the end. We're stopping those guys from hurting anyone, ever again." It feels important to establish that, first. Greg brushes dark locks away from Steven's face.

"Lesedi's hurt. Blanche..." Hmm. "He's unprepared. We're stopping them tonight."

Those are the relevant details, Greg thinks. Matters of stolen souls and rituals seem secondary. "Also we're on the moon?"