[center][h3][color=C0392B]Rudolf Sagramore[/color][/h3][/center]

[color=c0392b]"... No complaints from me so far."[/color] a flinty grunt floated in from across the clearing of the two Ospreyan nationals, as the smaller of the two men that had caught a sharp edge to the diminutive hare's gaze bit into a chunk of dried, spiced meat— the first batch of bear jerky they had wrought from making use of the tribe's smokehouse. His hands busied themselves in anointing the blades on his person with oil, having just sharpened three in turn as Izayoi was hers.

He stayed quiet while his jaw worked, letting Esben handle vetting the newcomer for now— all the message Rudolf needed on that front was the care in which the SEED had chosen his words with her in earshot. They couldn't necessarily bargain on what they'd given away already before they knew she was there, so he wouldn't volunteer any specifics right out the gate. Even [i]if[/i] she seemed authentic enough at first blush, it didn't hurt to exercise caution with where they were now— hell, doubly so, given the last time their ragged group had gained a new hanger-on. Let the specialist in clandestine affairs take the lead— if any of them would be able to spot a thread while talking, it'd be him.

And she did seem authentic, at the very least, to where she should have hailed from. On an even more basic level than accentation, garb, or the seals emblazoned onto her red and black robes[sup]1[/sup], Rudolf's redoubled efforts to be vigilant had caught the difference in how she beheld he and Galahad from the rest of their number. Disgust on its own was simple enough to fake once you understood how to wear a mask, that much he was well aware of— but few could manage the nuance of barely missing the mark in hiding it away as a deliberate affectation. Forged tells couldn't be [i]too[/i] subtle, for fear of going unnoticed. And you didn't hide our feints. You showed them, in service of building up and breaking down expectations.

This had that uncomfortable pang of familiarity from a place far drier than here— from a person he'd been too fearful to draw the ire of, the same regard that he'd once held Izayoi in. At the very least, he bought the Viera as hailing from Osprey, just as her taller, blonder, and almost-identically named counterpart had when she affixed Robin with a rancor-filled glare, seemingly a lifetime ago. It was a good thing she wasn't here to try and greet this one. 

A silver lining to that, at least. For all it seemed he had always been dumping a bucket of icy reality onto her bright-eyed idealism, there was a part of him that took no joy in watching history catch up to her the way it seemed it was everyone else, this one through no fault of her own. Her will to fight wavered with its sudden arrival... and then she was off. A hollow victory, for all the times he argued things were greyer than she saw them.

[i]Asakura[/i]. He wracked his brain, searching back through what he had learned after the war's end for the name. He found little, beyond the overview of ninja and how they worked that had survived first contact between their two nations— rogues by any other name, assassin, informant, and scout all in one. In the opening weeks of his training under Cadmon, they had gotten the threat they posed him in particular out of the way—

[color=c0392b]"Izayoi,"[/color] he began after finally downing the jerky, his narrowed eyes not leaving the bowing girl and his hands still tending to his blades. His tone was controlled, neutral, inquisitive at an arm's length. [color=c0392b]"You recognize this one, by chance?"[/color]

As Rudolf Shilage, [i]that[/i] had evidently been quite timely of his instructors, for he was far more of an exploitable asset than any of them had likely bargained for. Perhaps this little hare would have some personal skin in the game on that front, if her story checked out. His father had rampaged through their countryside, after all, in an attempt to get at the very same woman he was intending to pry a little enlightenment from.

As with the departed Songbird, if such were true. As with her, and him, and Izayoi, and Galahad— even Miina, now that they were here: A man could run away from anything, but nobody can run from their past. He suspected his cast-off heritage would be revealed to her before the moon had even risen, at this point.

They'd see how much the professional, curt tone was genuine— at least compared to someone else they all seemed to know. He'd made a habit of sleeping with his knife in reach for too long to stop now anyway.
[hr][hr]
[list]
[*][sub]1. I've always loved the red and black color combination. It's brooding, and violent, and speaks of the primordial flame that burst forth from the darkness that was once all. It might be why I like this idiot, too. Our aesthetic sensibilities pair wonderfully. Anyway, it should be noted that whatever that symbol is about an inch and a half above the [i]haramaki[/i] is some sand rune I never took the time to properly learn, given that I'm fairly sure neither Osprey nor Viera had really developed writing in my day. At the very least, they never wrote to me— so I'll warn you right now that I'm not here to provide translation notes if it's not a kanji our daring hero here already knows.[/sub]
[/list]