11 PM, backdated to Wednesday night. Action 1, locked to 2237 Stevens Residents: [ Garviel awakens after a day of droning, and the awakening is not a gentle one. A yell of pain can be heard, and then silence, aside from his heavy steps as he descends the stairs of the home and swiftly armors himself in his Astartes plate without a word to anyone
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H-Hello?
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[He gives her an impassive look, the only kind the helm can manage.]
I would ask the same of you, actually.
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[And now you've gone and roughed it all up again. Good job, Garviel.]
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[ Garviel is quiet for a long, long time. He doesn't turn to look at the Baron, not yet. ]
The damage is cosmetic only.
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[Klaus is quiet content to have this conversation facing Garviel's back. It's not as though his helm would offer any more expression, after all.]
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[Lancer's occasionally-used 'Something Is Not Quite Right' alarms were going off.]
Garviel? You look...a little different. Did something happen?
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Garviel...? What're you talking about?
[His right hand hung casually at his side, but the former Servant was already starting to focus what little prana he had. If his instinct ended up being right (which he sincerely hoped it wasn't) and Garviel was suddenly a threat, he would have the cursed spear in hand at a second's notice.]
It's me, Lancer. Cú Chulainn.
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[ He hesitates. ] I have seen what comes from superstition and the undisciplined use of what you call magic or sorcery. The belief in gods. I walked 3 months in a world populated only by demons, and myself.
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...Garviel. [ a pause- ] Only a day 'r so. You didn't miss anythin'.
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Higgs. I see. It was a considerably longer time for me.
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Whatever the case, you weren't gone that long.
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Who do you wanna be?
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