Mare Tranquillitatis perfumes, every where he steps - the pervasive reminder of flowers and trees and fruits and life as soon as he enters the commercial hub of Tranquility breaks his usual mask into a grimace. Windmire was a sensory nightmare at times, even to him, when the rain mixed all the rot and gore in the streets or when attempts at crop-growing on poisoned soil were choked in fire. The haze of dark magic and some almost-constant fog (or smoke, he wasn’t sure) welcomed him in Crises, practically fashioned from memories he could not claim to really have; but this place was worse than the plains of Hoshido. At least there they could torch nature away, scar Hoshido’s boast of prosperity into warground. Niles was little more than a tourist here, an obvious other as he piled out of the train compartment with the Rats. No means or time for carnage - even if he was starting to get antsy about it.
He rode the train with some threat of nausea as it hurled him towards.. where ever he figured the last stop was, trying to take in as much of the situation as he could, albeit without logistics. He cared little for how the train worked, how even his Holophone worked - as long as he could find a way to actually use it, Niles had absolutely no scientific curiosity for it all. He had no intention of truly familiarizing himself with this place - places? - when he was eventually going to be leaving. He was in Tranquility, specifically, just to grasp the scope of whatever this apparent continent was, see what it was like here.
Decidedly much different than Crises, off-putting enough to almost make him want to turn back and just dedicate time to that area. But why waste the whole ordeal only to turn up empty handed, when his hands were so renowned for much more!
Niles figures there must be some kind of seedy tavern here, perhaps even populated by other prisoners if Tranquility was as liberal with freedoms as Crises. Perhaps this was the main hub of the whole operation. He stalks through the train station and the maze of marketplaces and cafes outside it, only very briefly put on edge at the bears he sees idling on by. No bigger than a transformed Wolfskin, but still - they were bears. Bears well minding their business, he quickly learns, so Niles does the same.
He avoids nature paths that seem marked for sight seeing, stays in town as much as he can until the path he walks is unclean, uneven, slowly being reclaimed by the life it’d been built into. A bit away from the bustle of the city, and yet - a tavern, thank his intuition. Light had only just started to dim in the early evening, but Niles reasons he could treat himself to the familiarity of darkness and alcohol first, just a bit. He walks in to something sparsely populated with only other bears, on guard despite his confidence towards the bar where he orders whatever the barkeep “thinks he deserves”. The quip falls flat on unfazed ears, but the bottle of brandy is just strong enough, so he’s contented.
As soon as he settles towards the back of the establishment, another patron shuffles in - one hard to miss, a scowl framed in flashy clothing. Niles sneers above the lip of his drink, deems the stranger’s come from money despite himself, and waits for them to take their seat at the bar. “A bit early to be so tense,” Niles offers a lazy smile when he sits next to the stranger and sets his bottle down with deft quietness, cheek coyly resting against the heel of his palm as he speaks.
