[ The man next to him is striking-looking, but that's not what catches Gustave's attention, drawing it from the platforms ahead and the fall below. No: it's the uniform he wears, worn and more than a little ragged but still easily recognizable, despite the design being an unfamiliar one. The colors are right, the basic structure of it, though the sash around the man's waist isn't something he's seen before.
And Gestrals.
Gustave glances at the hand on his shoulder, then over into the man's face, cataloguing the scar over his eye, the faint humor in his expression along with... what is that? Fear of heights, maybe? ]
You're an Expeditioner.
[ Obvious, maybe, but he's still not feeling his best. There's a gold armband breaking up the line of charcoal fabric on his arm, but Gustave can't quite read the number from here.
His eyebrows push up, faintly sardonic, at the comment. ]
You know, saying something like that tends to make people think that is what you're trying to do.
[ Not that Gustave is precisely such an excellent target right now, blood-spattered and exhausted and injured as he is. ]
If you were planning to push me off, I'd have gone for a hand on the back, myself.
no subject
And Gestrals.
Gustave glances at the hand on his shoulder, then over into the man's face, cataloguing the scar over his eye, the faint humor in his expression along with... what is that? Fear of heights, maybe? ]
You're an Expeditioner.
[ Obvious, maybe, but he's still not feeling his best. There's a gold armband breaking up the line of charcoal fabric on his arm, but Gustave can't quite read the number from here.
His eyebrows push up, faintly sardonic, at the comment. ]
You know, saying something like that tends to make people think that is what you're trying to do.
[ Not that Gustave is precisely such an excellent target right now, blood-spattered and exhausted and injured as he is. ]
If you were planning to push me off, I'd have gone for a hand on the back, myself.