They're leaning toward the tail end of this conversation when Gideon rocks up. She makes a motion toward the soldiers gathered nearby, something like a half-assed and sloppy salute. Then her gaze - hidden between dark glass lenses - skims over the two Summoned, and she cracks a grin. It's raw-edged somehow, shows signs of something worn and strained compared with her usual, careless ease, but it's genuine enough.

"Yo, wingman," she says, finger-guns pointed in Jesper's direction, "you decided you wanna come out to play after all?"

She still remembers it, him saying he'd likely end up broken by something large and grizzly if he strayed out into the desert. Quietly admires the fact that he's here, doing it anyway. And they should be out here, shouldn't they, if there's anything they can do to help after the shit that just went down. Lord Undying knows she's spent every waking moment since pouring her efforts into assisting in any way she can. Part desperate need to do something, to help in some way, part busywork to relegate the big, aching source of her loss to the far corners of herself.

She hefts the longsword strapped to her back, hikes a thumb towards Claude. Crooked smile still in evidence.

"And who's this?"