Keeper's placid smile grew to a wide toothy one, then receeded again. Perhaps his eagerness was overplayed, still not being fully sure of these other beings and how they do their social dances, the lizards not least of all. Battle glee is consuming, but he'd have his time to slake his thirst for blood. Then Keeper heard the announcement by their commander, resting his fork on the half finished tray of the steaming culinary abomination. [i]Change of Plans! Escalation. Direct route. Prep suits. Airdrop.[/i] [color=92278f]"Judgement time."[/color] he growled cold and venomous. The pale gennari's posture straightening and his face hardening into a steely scowl.

	He dabbed the food from his mouth with the napkin, swiftly redonned the black tactical gloves that tucked into the dull-metallic grey vambraces worn over the sleeves of his frock coat. Then he cupped the sacred mask and brought the face of agony over his own. The top of the mask slipping under the slight lip of the flak helm visor, before clicking into place with audible hissing resounding before ceasing. The black glassy eyes of the pained vissage briefly flashing red before dimming to black again, before pulling the obscuring black hood over his helm, the upper ridge of the thick cowl-like hood fixed in place with magnetic force letting out an audible click.

	Keeper stood then, taking a step back from the table. He made an ovaloid symbol with his middle and index finger while he curled the rest and lightly beat the breastplate worn over his black frock coat twice. As he regarded his squad mates, solemnly, [color=92278f]"I'wardrana."[/color] Before giving a subtle nod, turning heel, and bolting to his post with impressive speed. The metal tread of plated hooves pounding as he made way to the MAS suits.