"Airman Ruven," Bishop said, and then, "Dean," and finally, "Officer Shaozu. What a wonderful little group, thrilled to be in your presence, and - all - of - that." His gaze wandered as he spoke, assessing the little ramshackle loading bay; he paid Jiang's egress from his arm no mind, clearly not taking offense.
"Oh, Officer Shaozu," he murmured, eyes snapping to Jiang's, the flicker of a wry smile warping his haunted face in the dim halogen lights. "My madness was gifted to me by the Army of Great Britain - cultured primarily in a two-by-four cupboard of a home over the course of two years (solitary confinement does alter the brain, my dear boy) - but it was the source of my peers' systematic denial that earned me a place in this organization, I suspect." His eyes never left his Chinese compatriot's, and he spoke lowly, but audibly, with the heightened fervor of a brilliant madman revealing his greatest secret; "You see, some years ago - I couldn't tell you how many, truly, as I've lost my talent with timekeeping of late - I was made privy to an inexorable truth: we - are - very - much - not - alone. Whatever UNXIPU's current state of readiness, rest assured, it is the only shelter in a coming storm, and you, myself, and the rest of these lovely folks will soon witness horrible things." The smile broadened, enveloping his entire face, almost sickening in its grimness - as though he knew your deepest fears, and could bring them to life at the drop of a hat. "Beautiful things, wonderful, that will challenge the very foundation of our reality - but horrible nonetheless."
With startling abruptness, the Captain shattered the grim, unnerving atmosphere just as quickly as he had established it, his face reverting into some sort of normalcy. "Though I do fear that Her Majesty's prison service was quite ready to be rid of me." With a flourish of his fingers, he expounded, "I'm quite good at getting away," before progressing forward with the rest of the teams onto the great lift - and, being so late, found himself clamoring aboard a crate filled to the brim with sheafs of printer paper, waving away a nervous Polish guard's attempts to get him down.
Throughout their speedy tour of the underground laboratory that was UNXIPU's secret facilities, Jonathan's expression was that of childlike idolatry: he framed a box with both thumbs and pointer fingers, viewing the unfinished lair as if through time progressing-lenses - and, watching his face, it seemed entirely plausible that the Captain could somehow glean glimpses into the future and see the bright, shiny home that awaited them over the coming weeks of construction.
Wandering blasély into Echo Squad's barracks, Bishop did not lay claim to a bunk, instead optioning to pace the room; as others pondered whether or not he might wear a rut into the cold concrete floor, the Captain seemed to ponder something intensely.