@Moonberry @supamusu @Novama

Locke’s expression shifts as Aoi steps into the open, softening some as he lowers his rifle further. He recognized some of the non-English dialect. Didn’t completely KNOW it, but the greeting struck a familiar chord. He gives a polite nod and sets the rifle at parade rest for a moment as Evie introduces him and the rest of the group.

Before he can get a word in edgewise though, Evie’s attention shifts. The masks. Damn, that’s way too fucking eerie. Locke’s mind flashed back to the deranged ramblings of the drugged up that Apex Predator merc known as Kane again. The pilot never expected to encounter something out of one of that psycho’s narcotic induced fever dreams… 

Per Evie’s recommendation, Locke taps the side of his helmet, and the faceplate slides shut with a quiet hiss. He then raises his rifle again, not leveled at Aoi, but instead directed past Evie. He keeps a reasonable distance from her, but still stays close enough to react quickly should anything wild happen. He says a silent prayer before they reach the threshold, briefly reaching his off-hand under his breastplate and into the pocket containing his rosary as he does so. The moment the prayer ends, his hand snaps back into position on his weapon.

Clean and practiced, head on a swivel. He watches the masks for signs of threatening movement or behavior, nothing yet, but… He glances back at Evie, then Roscoe, then Aoi and the others, to check on each of them. He repeats, scanning the environment, assessing the potential threats, checking on the condition of allies and/or neutral parties…

He’s as ready as he can be for what comes next…