Welcome to Gaia! ::

Maybe it was a sign that they didn't entirely trust Austin with some of the other tasks, not yet, that left him often in positions that required quite a bit of sitting and waiting -- a lot of observing things that seemed to stay in a state of stasis for quite a while, that didn't change or progress. Or maybe he was just doing what mists were meant to do: filling in where they were needed, and at this time of year, he was filling in for all the boring jobs no one else wanted to take.

He couldn't imagine. And he wasn't sure he liked it. But he did his duty, at least, showing up more or less on time, even if he sometimes promptly put his head down on a desk and dozed, just a little.

At least he was awake today, and more than that, he'd set to wandering: meandering his way here and there and peering into various pods to take in the faces of the poor losers trapped within. Some for days. Some, it seemed, for years. He thought he found one with a date from almost a decade ago, even. There he lingered, frowning at the labels with his hands in his pockets and his eyes narrowed behind ill-fitting frames, struggling to read the print.

There was a pause, quiet -- just the subtle hum of the room -- before footsteps broke through and Austin poked his head around a corner, squinting behind his lenses. He was, as always, impeccable: in full uniform with coat and scarf, trim and tailored underneath. At his side was the clipboard, complete with paperwork, absently tucked in against one hip.

There was no bright energy. No welcoming smile. Just a cool kind of assessment, a push of glasses up higher on his nose, and a slow c**k of his head. It was a measuring kind of look.

"You seem a bit old for this gig." He said it easily, gesturing with a pen to take in all of Harvard -- who, in other light and not fresh out of a traumatic slumber, was actually rather attractive. And vaguely familiar. "You wouldn't rather just take another nap?"

There was a long moment of quiet -- Austin realizing that the man recognized him and squinting as he tried to place the face. He probably should have engaged more, during their little apocalypse. And maybe he recognized Harvard, or maybe he didn't -- either way, he wasn't going to make that clear.

"Victoria? Oh, is that the little ramshackle tent village they put all the refugees in?" Austin had gone straight into a pod. He tipped his head to peer down the aisle, to make sure no one else was around to take over this duty, and then beckoned Harvard in closer with his pen.

Maybe he just wanted to see the man stumble around a little.

"My plan was to walk at a brisk pace from here to the next station, but if you're too much a newborn lamb to even take two steps toward me, maybe the plan needs to chance." It was casually biting, head cocked to consider Harvard down his nose, tapping that pen against the top of his clipboard. Austin's pose was meant to be indifferent, but there was an annoyed flash behind his eyes that countered it.

"Do we need to sit down? Do you need a nap?"

He got a sideways sort of look for his trouble, eyes narrowed -- and a question was clear behind Austin's expression: is this guy for real? But he didn't ask it, anyway, just rolled his shoulder easily out from under Harvard's hand as he kicked into motion, starting down between the rows of pods.

He didn't even look, but maybe Harvard could take a moment to note all the strange faces frozen in sleep surrounding him. A brief moment. Austin had meant a brisk walk.

"You have some idea of what's going on, I guess, since you were at the second string camp...?"

"Yes, you have to collect your weapon first thing." He tapped the pen against his clipboard and flicked a brief, testing look back over his shoulder at Harvard -- trying to gage if he was being sarcastic, or clever, or snippy, or what. It seemed oddly sincere, this time. This fact only deepened Austin's disapproval, made him frown a bit harder as he lead Harvard out of the pod room and toward the staircase.

"After that, you get to take it back to your shitty cave of a room, and you'll get a fancy new coat." In demonstration, he rolled his own shoulders, the heavy weight of his own coat settling comfortably into place.

Austin paused at the top of a flight of stairs and leaned against the wall to consider Harvard. After a breath, with a flourish, he flicked that fancy, vaguely-skeletal pen around his fingers -- and as he did, he summoned his weapon instead, so that the branching horns of his bow filled his hand, instead, alit with pale blue runes. He raised both eyebrows and looked up to Harvard's face and his own expression was somewhat smug.

Hey was a really gorgeous weapon. And, in his opinion, the nicest Austin had seen.

"It'll speak to you," he offered, cryptically, and pointed down the staircase. "It's a long walk. Try not to have a stroke."