[center][color=#94b8b8][h2]Lancer[/h2][/color][/center]
[hr][@Fish of Oblivion]
[hr]

Evidently, not every servant shared Lancer's desire not to make themselves as obvious as possible. As he'd warned his master, he'd been aware of the other approaching for quite a while; said other rapidly became aware of him, eyes falling right where Lancer stood, staring back. As if that was not brazen enough, the other never once looked away; he stopped, calling over to him, words magically carried straight to his ears.

Lancer's face was an impassive mask as he looked on towards the slender man that was calling out. Taller than most, professionally dressed, but not particularly heavily built. Not that there was too much to draw from that in terms of conclusions—not enough to decide [i]who[/i] he was, but it gave some clues as to how he might fight. Even if he was disinclined to engage in such so far.

Noticing him so clearly and easily, though...

Lancer stepped out from the trees, sauntering up to the shorter man with his hands held loosely at his sides. He did not, however, offer any greeting in return.

[i][color=#94b8b8]"Beatrice. Evidently one of them desires to talk. I'll humor him for a bit. Be careful when you leave."[/color][/i]

He stopped a couple yards away, his stone-faced stare not having let up at all. Even without words, the message was clear enough—[i]speak your piece or quit wasting our time.[/i]