[Ricky picks up his pace, not quite to a run but unnaturally fast for a walk, once he sees the the lights through the fog. With something to focus on, surely he would come across the man sooner rather than later -- but there's nothing for him, when he reaches the spot. And there's no sign of a human just out of sight but available to his other senses, either. He scowls to himself, but... Well. He's wasting time. If he goes back to wandering around crying his eyes out, he's sure to lure someone in soon enough.

Someone would come help.

They always did.

He's just a boy.

The weasel winds its way through the mist, confident in where it's going even though there were no landmarks to be seen. Everything was the same...although maybe "away" is the objective, simple as that. It moves quickly, leaving behind a faint trail of stardust that dissipates as Héctor catches up, but stops when his limp causes it to get too far ahead. Rescuing him from the kid wouldn't mean squat if he just lost him again in the fog.

Not that it was likely, how he was. At a safe distance away, the weasel slows and trots in an expectant circle, rather than moving forward. Another beat, and there's a teenage boy with ginger hair under a witch's hat stepping out from a cloudy patch above and landing in front of Héctor with a cheery hop and wave. No mournful feelings here about leaving behind little Ricky.]

Jesus, dude. Falling for that? Do I really gotta explain why that's dumb as hell?

[He seems happy, though, and genuinely relieved to see the skeleton. The weasel scurries up Maverick's leg to huddle up next to his neck with a soft chitter.]

Whatever would you do without me...