"It would seem."

Arty echoed the Clockwork Man's statement as he fell into step behind him and the apparently now allied warrior, a hint of disappointment in his tone. All that fighting, and he hadn't even gotten to kill one enemy. In his opinion, guns should be a tactical option to use on occasion, not the primary means of combat via slinging lead, plasma, depleted uranium, various other forms of energy, or what have you at the other guy and hoping it took him down. Combat should be an art, not a turkey shoot. Oh well. There was always next time.

He followed the two up into the top level of the tower once again, this time without his weapons drawn, and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning casually against a pillar while he waited for the explanation he'd been promised. On a whim, he decided to pull his mask off and hang it on his belt, breathing for the first time the unpurified air of a world that was not his own. His tongue darted back and forth across his lips, as if tasting something he wasn't quite sure about. "Tastes kinda chalky."