Crane accepts the invitation: careful not to jostle his companion who might hear a murmur of gratitude as he sidles inside. The shelter is packed from room to room. Each inch covered with signs of life and sand - people cleaning their clothes and shaking dust from their hair. Plenty of minds to pick apart, plenty of memories to analyse. He could reckon it to spearing fish in a barrel but in the game of life? They are unimportant.

He removes his scarf from around his mouth, fingers gentle in folding it in half, before it is folded across his arm.

"Looks busy."