ManyThings
Not a Sayan
Hell?
After his little speech to the kid, everything got a little rushed. Saber just went along with the flow. It was nice to meet everyone, even if he didn’t get the chance to properly introduce himself. Sure, the gender ratio was a little disappointing, but that one queenly Archer might make up for all that.
Before long, they had begun the Rayshift.
As a piece of debris burst into flaming pieces, he interposed himself between it and the master, allowing the pieces to scatter against his outstretched cloak. Quickly, he snaked a hand through the flames that hit him, and brought it up to his mouth. Another cigarette. Well, nobody would dispute his right to smoke here, at least. There was already enough of that around.
“This place looks pretty busted up, huh? Wonder what happened here.” Saber spoke casually, as if the cataclysm of flames around him was nothing more than a summer breeze.
“Well, the kid’s likely to melt if we stick around here too long.” Don Juan said, looking over his young Master, trying to gauge his response to the heat. “Though I don’t wanna just jump out of the frying pan, into the fire - I guess in this case it would be out of the fire, into the bigger fire.” He looked over towards his fellow Servants. “If you guys check North and South, I can keep the kid company.” It wasn’t that he was taking charge, just a simple suggestion that occurred to him.
For a moment, he considered jumping up to a building with Daniel, but that might end up collapsing on them or something. Better to hold tight for the time being.
“Heh, come to think of it - looks like all us scouting types got stuck together, huh? The others might be missing us, so let’s try and find them as fast as possible.” Yeah, it was a purely practical decision. Not that he wanted to be working as closely as possible with that Archer...
“Kid, can you get in contact with mission control? They might be able to help us find the others - or see if there’s any hostiles in the area. Though something might have gone wrong here.”
Don Juan paused, and took another drag of his cigarette. This separation was probably a bad sign, but it was impossible to know what it meant.