In the half hour since Tidus showed up at the guild, a few people have been in and out. Which of them were Voidtreckers and which were native travellers, he never really bothered to discern; though, it was sometimes easy to tell if one's sleeve were short. There's a space for a table and seats, all wooden and simple, a large map of the kingdom handcrafted hanging from the wall that might get any newcomer's interest.

It had Tidus's, as well as the book he'd been offered after a few questions. He'd promised to do some investigating into what Orange Team were to get up to, a book on his lap and his notebook out from the netherspace of his Arms Band--a surprise he even kept it in there. He's scribbling a small note, sat in a chair by the map, using the side he isn't reading from (sprites, with inside it a illustration of how they appear) to balance his notebook on, and looks up (or straightens his head) when he hears a familiar voice. Dares after a few seconds to look over his shoulder and to confirm at least the sight of black hair, knowing little else would be as easy to recognise.

He turns back his head. Who knows if he'll notice him, who knows if he won't pretend not to notice him. It'd be better for the both of them, in the end, and so Tidus keeps his head low, the words scrawled on either of the pages below unintelligible, the grooves of the paper more visible as he waits to hear Roland leave.