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King had done little else other than dismissively roll his eyes and pretend to sleep when the team had received the Sargasso briefing - his eyes had snapped open when the Invictoid had indicated that anybody was free to challenge Salvator's de-facto command of their squad, staring at the Invictoid Authority with unmasked distaste. He had sourly gotten up from where he was seated at the table and fallen in behind Salvator almost immediately, the wavering curtain oh photons comprising their visage taking on a shifting quality of camouflage; blending in with the shifting alien corridors of the vessel as the team moved to the armory and making efforts to stay both out of sight and mind, for the time being at least. He followed Salvator over to the workbench and stood by as the Voidhanger began modifying their shotgun.

[quote=Salvator Rasch][color=#DAEE01][b]"You got a name? Designation? Callsign? Or should we stick to calling you 'support'?"[/b][/color][/quote]
It was then that King reached out and placed a thumb against the Salvator's helmet - and in the next moment King's reverberating, echoing voice resonated in Salvator's ears almost unbidden, seemingly occurring from somewhere inside their own body.

[color=5FADAD][i]'Better call them 'troubleshooters,' chief. Don't react. I'm hitting your cochlear bone with an electron stream so you can hear this, they shouldn't be able to overhear. This wouldn't be the first time the Intransigence has arranged for inconvenient individuals like ourselves to get stranded and mysteriously vanished around a space station. Can't elaborate just yet, we'll talk more later. Just keep this in mind: Our 'support' are [b]not[/b] our friends.'[/i][/color]

King retracted his thumb, their active camouflage patterning fading away, leaving them conspicuously opaque and eerily picture-still once more.

[color=5FADAD]"No more of a construct than you are, friend. Though I'm surprised you've been tasked with overwatch for us, given the focus you'll need to get to that control center. Maybe they think we can't get our job done otherwise?"[/color] King laughed then, hunching over faintly as they leaned their photo-curtain against the workbench. There was something ever-so-slightly off about their posture - some incorrectness to the curve of their spine and the balance of their frame relative to where their center of mass [i]should[/i] have been.

[color=5FADAD]"Anyway - we should talk about our mutual objectives. You've got your own craft but with you moving around inside that station and all the Etheric mess inside, it's entirely possible some of you might get cut off from it. Likewise, with all the automated defenses we'll be dealing with, our own exfiltration craft might be at risk. Might even have to commandeer one of the vessels we're being sent to investigate if things get really bad. What is going to be our exchange protocol for objective assets for when things start going wrong?"[/color]

King seemed wholly uninterested in the contents of the armory - though as he had joined the team just a few minutes prior, perhaps he had already outfitted himself for the mission sight unseen? Though by the same token, there was no evidence of any equipment on - or inside - his person. How exactly was the contentious construct meant to fight?