There were days where the Varelsi threat in Solus was scarce, with no notable areas needing coverage from the Battleborn; leaving the misfit crew to hang about and share stories from their varied missions together.
Rath wasn’t a talker, much, unless he was prompted. This made him a bit of a wallflower in conversations, but that was more than okay with the Keeper. He’d absently sip his tea while Montana and Benedict would screech [semi-literally] about the amount of kills they’d get, debate about killsteals, and mock Kleese for screaming over their comms in panic.
Of course, as with all things, usually the meetings parted with only a couple of people left to enjoy the settling peace afterwards. Rath loved that time the most, as it was usually quiet company left over.
He didn’t expect the otherworldly Miko, sitting adjacent from him, to stay. It was just it and the Jennerit sitting in the room. He’d never formerly gotten a chance to speak to the living mushroom, and he was quite glad, because his biased grudge against the Eldrid would surely get him lippy with it.
...So there he was, red-eyed and uncomfortable staring contest aiming at the singular eye under its cap, sipping the last of his cold tea.