Federico....pauses. Since the fabric is part of his Executor uniform, one he thought he'd lost to the mirrored assailants. "One moment," he murmurs, unclipping something from the pockets within. It's a little charm of some sort, made of sticks and orange fur. He sighs, relieved it is undamaged. He retrieves some other supplies, anything that would help him protect the others. The Laterano emblem as well. They shouldn't burden Sunday with the memory of an entirely different city.

It's not like Robin is looking anyway. Still, it's only then that Federico hands his cloak over. He's almost tempted to drape it over her shaking shoulders, but does as he's told.

"Who's gifts?" he asks, curiosity muted by the heavy air of loss.

And...ah. Yes. "We have no access to..."space" from here." Space travel on Terra is still a far off dream as far as he knows. And there's no body. So they must adapt. "That could suffice, yes."

The pink makes his eyes linger a moment longer than necessary. She's...struggling to keep her Arts in check, perhaps. But when she turns to mourn in full, he stands beside her, head bowed, as if in prayer. But he's silent. Only her mournful cries echo across the mirrored halls.

They pain him. He can only imagine how this would distress Sunday, seeing his sister in such a state. But all Federico can do is stand in silent vigil.