Walking through a desert wasteland wasn't his idea of a trip, but his suit kept him cool, and not melting. Carrying a pack his back, with a sarong on his leg with a crescent moon shape, an emblem really -- was a symbol of his status. Humans would not know what it means, nor the federation, but that was fine. His dark armor was more frame fitted, with slight bulk around the legs to not allow entry to other foreign bodies,a coat over the chassis to make him easily identifiable to his companions as well, it was sleeveless, and for the most part, nothing got in the way.
Reviewing Kaze's profile, he can't say he was surprised, but he was impressed... and clearly an opinionated man who did not tolerate too much animosity, and ignorant sense of heroics. Such should typically be the case, everything should remain uniform in a operation.
But with the sand parting ways for -- good god... What the hell was that? -- Wait... He's seen this in the BSL report... The head was the weakpoint, but with rapid rolling movement, and unfavorable terrain... he feared even if you could consistently peg one with his Gauss Rifle, that it would be an unwieldy waste of time. The only thing that made Cassius' blood curdle was ignorance, and seeing David run out ignorantly to face a treat where the terrain was not in their favor.
Others were eager to break into a suicidal fight, to protect a machine more than capable of getting away? Cassius was about to issue his first set of orders, and they better listen, or he was going to leave them behind.
"Fall back into the Bunker! Restore the turrets into working orders, and get that droid into that Bunker!" War is won through cunning, and understanding resources, not charging through them. Cassius began to hike it in fast gear to the Bunker, making a mad dash, if the others were smart, they'd follow him.