Someone.... familiar. Fou-Lu? It didn't feel entirely right, but he wasn't going to not embrace it, thankful for the swift response. Sunday tries to hold out a little longer until help arrives, yanking his arm back and away from this mirror clone, making it lose its balance.

"Fou-Lu! I'm here!"

The man who turns the corner--- blue hair? Pronouns? Whoever it was, he seemed to know how to handle that sword. Sunday watches him attack the reflection, frozen in place. Confused, but mostly afraid of ending up on the wrong side of that thing. If this wasn't Fou-Lu, then...

"I'm sorry, who are you?" He has to ask-- has to know. He can only think of one reason for someone to feel similarly to Fou-Lu. "You're not a face I'm familiar with."

The reflection, on the other hand, bleeds this clear, shiny fluid. Sunday recognizes it as the water-like liquid on the ground, draining from the mirrors themselves. The wound is enough to force it to pull away from him, letting go and backing up. It seems to reassess the situation, slinking back, circling them both. Sunday chooses to move closer to the stranger.

The shallow reflection lunges again.