Roland can only concur, but no words pass through his lips. The arms that come crossed against his chest fall to his sides as the area is surveyed with an uncharacteristic eye for detail, doubting immediately that this couldn't be as simple as a bare biome that looks like it was abandoned halfway through their blueprint. The hum that does escape him, low and deep, lends to the feeling of shifting attitudes. Everything is sterile and cold and lifeless that he can't help but be reminded of somewhere else he'd rather not be, or think about.
The eerie blanket of complete silence doesn't help his impression any. He walks, follows the initial flow of the streets if it can be called that, pausing only to peer at what does stick out...Though expectedly, there's nothing to find there either.
"Hm." Roland breathes out. "What a party." The sarcasm isn't lost on him, but he says it deliberately. A careful pivot on the ball of his foot to look back at the distance they've crossed, the doors that have shut, separating them from the rest of the train; he frowns deeply at the nothingness behind them too.
"No signs of forced entry or destruction from the holding bay," he says steadily. "And no signs of it in here. So who are we lending our aid to, and has the threat come and gone...? Or worse?" Paranoid as he might sound, how could one ignore such forewarnings when Roland flashes his trademark quirk of the brow, the crinkle in his forehead to indicate deep thought. Gears churning, wondering of what to make of it all.
But this was no time to sit and chat, so he keeps moving while talking with Tidus instead.
no subject
The eerie blanket of complete silence doesn't help his impression any. He walks, follows the initial flow of the streets if it can be called that, pausing only to peer at what does stick out...Though expectedly, there's nothing to find there either.
"Hm." Roland breathes out. "What a party." The sarcasm isn't lost on him, but he says it deliberately. A careful pivot on the ball of his foot to look back at the distance they've crossed, the doors that have shut, separating them from the rest of the train; he frowns deeply at the nothingness behind them too.
"No signs of forced entry or destruction from the holding bay," he says steadily. "And no signs of it in here. So who are we lending our aid to, and has the threat come and gone...? Or worse?" Paranoid as he might sound, how could one ignore such forewarnings when Roland flashes his trademark quirk of the brow, the crinkle in his forehead to indicate deep thought. Gears churning, wondering of what to make of it all.
But this was no time to sit and chat, so he keeps moving while talking with Tidus instead.