[Kimblee turns at the sound of her arrival; she's behind him, but Archer (of the Gardevoir variety, anyway) is more than aware of who this one is. He hasn't met her in person, but he's seen pictures of her; his trainer looked at them sometimes, giving out mental waves that were alarming in intensity, at least when compared to the usual muted static that he usually read off of Kimblee.
There's nothing but static now.
There are no defining features to work off of when he turns around; Kimblee's hair is hidden beneath the dark hood and mask he has on, the thick fabric also concealing his face entirely. He can see through it, but he's more than aware that she can't do the same unless one of them pulls the mask up.
He shifts position a bit as he turns, clasping his hands lightly behind his back as he faces her; he doesn't speak, though he does tip his head a bit in acknowledgement.
They both know what she's thinking; she isn't incorrect.]
no subject
There's nothing but static now.
There are no defining features to work off of when he turns around; Kimblee's hair is hidden beneath the dark hood and mask he has on, the thick fabric also concealing his face entirely. He can see through it, but he's more than aware that she can't do the same unless one of them pulls the mask up.
He shifts position a bit as he turns, clasping his hands lightly behind his back as he faces her; he doesn't speak, though he does tip his head a bit in acknowledgement.
They both know what she's thinking; she isn't incorrect.]