With no active ill intent on the part of the Embryon bishop, would there be something for another demon to pick up on? It doesn't mask footsteps, but there's nothing in that sound to suggest to Drake an effort at stealth, so he continues to work on getting the little cloth creature into the dryer without hurting it. 'Hurting' it. Did it even have the ability to BE hurt?
"Sorting." The answer's prompt, even as he finally manages to get it in there, AND prevent any others from escaping, and close the door of the dryer with a satisfying click. "There's enough big machines." And when he's done with blue, then he's going to work on white, then yellow and on down the line because he had absolutely nothing better to do with his time.
Only once he's sure his rodent prize is secure does he bother to turn and actually address the person who spoke to him; nothing was setting off any instinctive alarm bells so the delay should be fine - except gray and orange. Grey, orange, and the black mark of another avatar tuner, but no armor, no attack when there could have been one. The only Embryon member he can recognize on sight is the silver haired leader, and this isn't it. He's rather good at maintaining control of his expression, none of his surprise and instant wariness shows visibly. The Embryon were always trouble.
But he also doesn't draw the rifle slung across his shoulders. This isn't the Junkyard, and the rules of Liminal weren't the rules he knew best. "... If you want the orange ones you better get there before I do." He's going to stuff all those ones in a dryer too given the opportunity. It's .. not quite a challenge.
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"Sorting." The answer's prompt, even as he finally manages to get it in there, AND prevent any others from escaping, and close the door of the dryer with a satisfying click. "There's enough big machines." And when he's done with blue, then he's going to work on white, then yellow and on down the line because he had absolutely nothing better to do with his time.
Only once he's sure his rodent prize is secure does he bother to turn and actually address the person who spoke to him; nothing was setting off any instinctive alarm bells so the delay should be fine - except gray and orange. Grey, orange, and the black mark of another avatar tuner, but no armor, no attack when there could have been one. The only Embryon member he can recognize on sight is the silver haired leader, and this isn't it. He's rather good at maintaining control of his expression, none of his surprise and instant wariness shows visibly. The Embryon were always trouble.
But he also doesn't draw the rifle slung across his shoulders. This isn't the Junkyard, and the rules of Liminal weren't the rules he knew best. "... If you want the orange ones you better get there before I do." He's going to stuff all those ones in a dryer too given the opportunity. It's .. not quite a challenge.