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So he'd been patched up, and he'd looked after a few other people. There hadn't been much time to settle in, or anything - there were still Chosen darting in at their leisure. But there seemed to be a gathering of weary, weaponless people in dirty clothes, murmuring quietly as they worked. Those people...those people probably had an idea of what he was supposed to do here. Or what they wanted him to do here, anyway. Ernst dragged his tower shield over, happy to note that he wasn't the only recruit that'd had the same idea. There were a couple other Chosen who'd walked over with him.

After a few seconds of trying to figure out who exactly was in charge, or understood English, or available for questions, a dark-haired man huffed a greeting at them, and launched immediately into an explanation of what he was up to. Ernst would've been offended by the implication that he wasn't real help, but as physically imposing as his height might make him look, it was true that he basically completely lacked any real muscle definition. He would never be real help to this guy. He saluted. "Useful is my middle name, sir," he called, before turning off to go find supplies.

There was another chosen near him who he decided to greet, a girl (or very young woman?) with long, pretty pastel hair and another tower shield. "Respect," he told her, lifting his own shield in greeting. "And nice hair," he added, without needing to gesture at his own - he had shockingly deep pink hair himself, and certainly appreciated the work that went into maintaining a pretty pastel 'do. "I'm Ernst. Wanna head upstairs to get started?"

It looked like he wasn't really giving her much choice about whether or not they were grouping up. Or, well: she could go where she liked, but he'd probably follow her around with that grin on his face until she explicitly told him to stop. Or, like, until she entered a ladies-exclusive restroom, or something.

Ernst had to pat himself on the back as she responded positively. He let her step into the elevator first with a flourish of his hands, and lugged his shield in after her.

"Me?" he laughed. "Well - I don't really look like a fighter, do I?" He shrugged. Ernst had already accepted his complete lack of suitability for the second half, the other, combative half of their duties as Chosen. Why they didn't have an information unit, at least, was beyond him. He'd much prefer to be analyzing maps, or organizing radio channels, or designing training videos, or something. Not that he was a tactical genius, either, but he was great at assigning jobs to people, and at least academics was something he was accustomed to. It'd be much easier to learn that than real combat. He hadn't paid a ton of attention in the basic combat lessons, either: just enough to be deemed kind of competent. "I figured it'd be better if I could at least cover someone else while they fought, and this one is just my size." Meaning he'd have just looked kind of stupid carrying a buckler (and Ernst was definitely the kind of person to care about aesthetics). That and it'd probably require a lot more aggression than he was accustomed to.

"How about you?" he asked, as the elevator opened onto the fourth floor. They'd picked at random in the hopes that most people were doing something like starting from the top or the bottom. It'd be pretty shameful if she was actually competent at this. But on the other hand, Ernst wanted it known loud and clear that he wasn't into this fighting thing.

He glanced down the hallways as he awaited an answer. He wasn't sure which doors were probably best: there were still people staying here, after all, which meant that not every bed was raidable. There were about three doors ajar along the hallway, one with a cleaning cart sticking out of it. One of them should grab that for transportation, probably.

"Fair point," Ernst conceded, giving her body a once over. The shield seemed much more gargantuan on her frame - but it probably covered her better, too. But it was definitely true that he wasn't a fighter - or, really, an athlete - of any kind. "Here's to having us both learn, I suppose," said Ernst. Especially if any of the rest of their missions were going to be anything like this: they were woefully under-informed, and under-prepared, in his own opinion.

He strolled into the room after her and set his shield against the wall before glancing around the room himself. "If anything, you can use them to fill gaps," Ernst nodded, indicating the towels she'd found. But tying things down was a good idea. "At least the cart's big." It could carry things, and up-side-down they could use it as a base for a big wall, or something. His eyes wandered to the mattress she'd highlighted. "And funnily enough - I'd hope it was the second," he said, a bit darkly. The thought of the birds being able to get in here...ugh, he wouldn't want to stay here tonight knowing that. "Need help getting it in there?" he asked, indicating the cart.

Even without waiting for an answer, he stuck his head in the bathroom, and was pleased to find, er, shower curtains. What? It actually looked like the place had been ransacked already (although it honestly confused Ernst that they hadn't just taken the whole mattress). Well, he guessed he could take the shower curtains, since they were at least still here. He liberated them happily and folded them into the cart. "Not sure what we can use these for, but I'd rather take them than punch through walls in the hopes that I can pick up some drywall," he joked. Maybe he could use them to make really shitty window socks - or to at least cover a window more securely. He didn't want birds spying on him.

Ha. That was probably a good idea. Ernst nodded, and then watched as she gave the room a last once over. He hadn't honestly thought there'd be more in here - which meant he was surprised when she dug the piece of luggage out. It probably just meant she was more dedicated to this than he was, but he still pushed forward behind her. "You have a keen eye," he grinned, bending over to see what was up. Or, you know, an actual willingness to crawl. Ernst's pants today were his own, thank you very much. He'd paid for these!

And those looked - actually expensive? Ernst rushed over. He wasn't really an expert in women's fashion (come Fashion Week, his eyes were usually on the men's lines - he had a little bit of patience for breaking gender barriers, but honestly so little of women's fashion consisted of wearables that he didn't really keep up but for the juiciest bits), but he did know nice fabrics when he saw them. And these...were nice. But probably too delicate to be of much use in defense, although the - frankly stuffed - suitcase itself was probably a reasonable addition to a barricade. "I hope she was a pantsuit princess," he said, because that was probably their best bet. Shoulder pads, after all. Or, well, if they were willing to cut these things up (and it did look like the people here were getting desperate - as expensive as this stuff looked, he liked the idea of a real defense more), they could just end up using all of this to stuff the mattress again, or as bandages. That was as good a defense as any - preventing bleeding out, that was.

They looked over a collection of neatly tied pantyhose and a fluttery silken evening gown before they found a heavy mauve evening shawl, and matching gloves made of probably dyed chamois. "That, I like," said Ernst with a hum of approval. The set looked like it could withstand at least a bit of wear and tear. There was nothing really any sort of clothing in here could do against, ah, metal feathers, or corrosive poop...but they'd really need magical clothing or Kevlar or something for that. This was better than he'd hoped.

Or so Ernst thought. At the very bottom was a pair of sparkly crystal-studded stilettos. "Looks like a weapon to me," said Ernst, shrugging. Sure, anyone who'd actually be fighting was probably in the large group of Chosen...but if the civilians in here were armed with these as a last line of defense..

It was at least a better idea than bare fists, unless anyone here was truly beefy. "I think it's worth a shot," he said decisively. It was by now almost definitely time to move along, and he helped Sylvia put everything back in, not really taking as much care to fold as previously, and carefully nestling the stilettos on top so it'd be within easy reach. They sealed it back up again and Ernst stuffed the mattress onto the cleaning cart.

It didn't really fit in there, and it didn't fit through the doorway, either. He had to carry it out first (which he did simply because he figured he was taller - if Sylvia had any objection to that, he was happy to ignore it), and then take the cleaning cart out. He left the mattress leaning against the door as he wandered down the hall, this time without waiting for his current partner. At the end, in the farthest door, it looked like there'd been a small lounge, for people to hang out or have photoshoots or something. Another of the doors...was a cleaning closet! He ducked in, unhappy to find that it was mostly empty, but for a cleaning cart inside. It was half-empty, too, and most of what he could see was window cleaner, rubber gloves, and toilet cleaning supplies. Some of these things were at least poky - and maybe if someone could figure out a way to launch the liquids, they'd be a deterrent. This stuff was toxic to humans, so it was probably the same for birds, right? "Nothing much in here other than - this," Ernst huffed, pushing the cleaning cart out and grinning at Sylvia. "We could have a cart race!"

"Forks and knives make for excellent deterrents," Ernst said gravely once they met up again. He'd certainly want to run away from a toddler wielding them. He had a look over the supplies within their accumulated carts as she went back for the wood, looking up to call after her. "I wonder if the birds'd fry," Was that too morbid? Well, either way, the chair...pieces...that she'd found looked at least big enough and sharp enough (wood splintered, right?) that it'd be somewhat threatening. Well, compared to metal feathers, maybe not: but wood was a pretty sturdy material, all told. And now that the chairs weren't chair-shaped, it meant they were much easier to transport, and thus were much less likely to break.

Ernst applauded himself for the thought. But the idea of burning them with cleaning fluid was probably a better idea. "That sounds excellent, though," he told Sylvia. "But let's please use the elevator." He didn't want her to think of him as lazy, but they were both holding carts - and a mattress - here. He wasn't sure if they'd break on a trip down the stairs!

It was only when they were back downstairs and looking for a windowed room to start stacking things against the wall, supplies in arms, that they passed another banged-up mattress, leaning against the wall like that was perfectly ordinary. "Think two wrongs make a right?" Ernst asked. He stopped the emptier cart's progress and shoved the new mattress on top. If someone else had decided not to use it...it was Sylvia's and Ernst's for the taking! They could make a giant mattress fort.