Around one of the corners in the Station, there was a small flash of light. Eagle eyed game characters caught glimpse of a short, armored figure, only for the armor to dissolve into specks of light to reveal a Duck person. His attire was normal, or at least normal where he came from. He wore a black turtle-neck shirt underneath a hooded, tan jacket with patches on the elbows. Also, he wore glasses over his eyes, and that was about it. His lower half wore no actual clothes and his webbed feet remained bare. Still, he wasn't the strangest looking thing in this station, so the Duck didn't garner too many stares. At least, not until some kind of holographic quarantine tape appeared around him and he was suddenly addressed by a small blue man dressed in a security uniform.

"Papers and identification, please." he said in an almost bored monotone, he hadn't even looked up from his clipboard yet.

"Uh... I'm sorry, what?" inquired Quentin, who had no such things to present to the guard, "I was asked to meet some-"

"Papers. And identification please." said the Surge Protector again, cutting Quentin off. Finally he glanced up from his clipboard and seemed to make a realization, "Right... you must be one of [i]those[/i]..." he sighed, as if he was having a frustrating shift at work, "Come this way." he said, the quarantine markers suddenly vanishing.

A little confused, but with no other leads about what he was supposed to do, Quentin followed the blue man. He was led down the main hall of the Central Station, and catching a glance or two from passerby Game Characters who were probably asking themselves what was going on, but none tried to approach or strike up a conversation, obviously wanting to avoid trouble with the blue man. After a little ways, Quentin spotted a couple of people in the distance. It wasn't hard to tell that they didn't belong here, especially since he knew one of them. Quentin picked up his walking speed and outpaced the Surge Protector, who just offered an exasperated sigh before vanishing.

When he was close enough, Quentin addressed one of the two strangers, "...Master Xehanort." he said, sounding almost... cold. It wasn't hard to tell that he wasn't exactly Xehanort's biggest fan. The reason was pretty obvious to him and to the old man, the last time they spoke was that fateful night that Quentin was convinced to give up on returning home. And the Duck had seemed to harbor a sort of resentment toward Xehanort ever since. He'd taken the advice, but Quentin had obviously hated doing it.