Haruto breathes through Nitoh's overly-companionable contact, tightening his fists in his pockets, and walks on, through the Hold's front courtyard and in through the front door. Though the outside of the Hold is something of a mess, the clinical gray and white interior looks the same as always. Almost comforting, except where it makes his skin crawl.

He ignores the front desk and the corridor to the training rooms, making a beeline for the labs where the Initiative's time travel machinery lies.

The double-doors are open, but he lingers in the doorway for a moment anyway, breathing. "Let me handle the talking," he says, before he moves.