"What's the plan?" Galahad vaguely heard as he jumped out of the truck with the rest of them. Unsure whether or not the question was rhetorical, the question was answered with a mixed combination of shrugs, and planning that lead to the idea of 'figure it out later'. For now, they were exhausted and tired- the alcohol and partying form earlier likely did little to help that feeling. Though to be fair, they hadn't done much partying before the proverbial shit hit the fan and they ended up here, but somehow it was late, and they were in bum-fuck nowhere. To be perfectly honest, this wasn't exactly how Galahad expected his first combat scenario to go- at least out of the Academy. He expected to be fighting Vangars, not rescuing/taking one hostage as they fled robots from gods know where. 

Darryl took cash from Gideon to go buy them rooms, and Gideon went about quickly and subtly scouting out their surroundings. At least they had their heads screwed on right. Zimmy looked kinda worn out- she'd been using a lot of Mist that night, and unlike Galahad, she wasn't as trained to withstand the burn. Unlike many of the others, Galahad was extremely economical about his Mist usage, and as a result, still had a fair amount of juice to go around. Conjuring a spell into a bead, Galahad wiped a bit of sweat from his brow and threw the bead on the top of the truck. At first glance nothing happened, but as soon as they got some twenty feet away, their military truck began looking considerably less like a military truck and more like a large, run down camper-van. With the amount of energy Galahad coalesced into that spell, it would last them at least until dawn. 

Returning to most of the group just as food was starting to be passed around, Galahad grabbed at a sandwich and began scarfing it down. Only pausing to roll his eyes with a scoff as Lee asked the Princess what he thought was going to be a serious question. It was a stupid question indeed, but it did do its job, sort of. Zimmy was quick to tell him off before stomping off- the girl was tired. They all were. 

Galahad realized he still held the Vangar sabre in his hand, his grip around it tight like it was a lifeline. Technically it was his lifeline as of the past hour or so, able to actually cut through the weird robots, where their other weapons merely smashed and pummeled. Able to now appreciate the weapon, Galahad examined the weapon, sheathed in a scabbard of fine, black ironwood, with subtle gold etching- its material and intricacies making Galahad realize just how expensive this weapon must have been. Even the ammunition cylinder and trigger fit into the weapon so well that from a distance, one would not be able to tell that it was anything other than a fine sabre.

"Incredible." Galahad murmured to himself. He'd appreciate it more if they weren't all so damn tired. Glancing at the Princess, he picked up and handed her the most least smashed bit of food remaining from their collection. Then, mustering all the courtesy the exhausted son of a general could:

"Eat, then sleep. No harm will come to you. We'll figure out what's going on tomorrow."