That feel when Jack won by one vote.
You are Jack. Your name means 'fool', in the sense of 'stupid asshole', and honestly, right now, you're feeling it. A literal cripple stayed behind to fight your battle and told you to take half his friends and go sound the alarms to evacuate the civilians.
The chain in your left hand feels heavy as hell.
Fuck this whole day, and this whole month, and - and your whole fucking /life/. Normally this would be the point where people scream 'why me' but you already know why. You remember the young boy and the curious fairy, making a deal they didn't understand.
You slow down from your hell-bent-for-election sprint and shake your head.
"What?" the metal-winged girl asks you.
"Alarm's in there," you say, pointing at a nearby door. "I - fuck, just. Crank the handle six times and pull the chain, okay?"
She gets to work, leaving you with the male elf. You don't even know his name. "How can I help?" he asks.
"People are going to be coming out of their homes and places of business and wondering what's wrong. They need guidance," you tell him. "Everyone needs to get into the Roost. If this gets out of hand, they'll drop chunks of the Cornucopia into here so that's a no-go, and with the lower storage beneath us fleeing down isn't great either."
"What are you going to do?" the elf asks.
"I - fuck, I don't know!" you exclaim. You wrap the chain that binds the angel around your wrist and up your arm, securing it in place with some hooks and string that you keep specifically for this purpose. You never really trusted yourself to stash it somewhere else. "I'm not like your friend, okay? I'm not a Hero. I'm a, I'm a fucking tomb robber, an adventurer, a fuckin' vulture feeding off the dead. That's what I am, okay? Vermin."