(Pre-Show) The Lobby

[Darth Vader]

Jon's lips peered into a slight frown as Gildarts offered over his explanation of what had brought him here in the first place. In more ways than one, the bastard Snow felt as though could sympathise with the sorcerer. He too longed for home, and being here only delayed him from seeing his sworn brothers and the Wall again, and if anything at all, set him back further in his tracks.

Jon silently cursed to himself on that mental note; he truly was considering whether or not laying his sword at Hammond's feet and vying to come here was one of his brightest moments.

As the sorcerer began to mull over the suspect of breaking down the door from whence he'd came with his "powers", Jon inclined his head to look over at them, squinting. They looked breakable and as though they could wither, certainly. And if Gildarts's magic was strong and powerful enough to crack the tiled floor beneath the, Snow didn't doubt that he could bust and break through metal with just as much ease.

Gildarts was right about the fact that it was probably more trouble than it was really worth, though. There was also the off-chance the sorcerer could injure someone in his blind rage and desperation to break out from here; not something he seemed intent on doing, Jon judged from his more than friendly demeanour and laid-back (yet still prone to temper) attitude.

"No, you couldn't" Jon inhaled sharply, speaking in agreement with him. "To many men posted around here, besides. I'm sure they'd take less than kindly to you breaking their wall down to make a run for it" Snow lowered his tones as two security men wandered by them, giving a swift yet sharp glance over. These peacekeepers weren't as armed to the bone as the Stormtroopers of Corucsant had been, but armed none-the-less they were. They adorned a pretty solid looking amount of bodily armour, visibly plumpened by a thick layer of under-padding beneath. The crest of the Dante's Abyss contest emblazoned their chests, which clearly signified them as men under Karl Jak's belt and contract.

A bzzzzt sounded from one on the guardsmen's radios. Arching his head down to listen, he let out a simple grunt, nodding to his companion before they made further haste down the hallway, past the elevators and towards two wider, stronger looking doors that appeared to be quite amply barred-up.

One of the men grasped at the bars, yanking it off as the other began to unbolt the door. Instantaneously, they slid the metal doors open, holding them apart as heaps and flocks of squealing fans moved inside, barely able to contain their excitement and anticipation.

Jon groaned, turning back around to face Gildarts.

"Where you headed anywhere before I stopped you?" the bastard inquired with a slightly raised brow. The man across from him squinted a little bit, his arms wrapping around his chest. "No, actually... not anywhere in particular, at least. I didn't arrive here long before you did, thinking about it..." the sorcerer's lips curled slightly in thought, a hand moving to itch the back of his head. Jon took one more glance over his shoulder before speaking up once more.

"We... should get moving, then. I'm sure there's more to see and enjoy beyond this place, anyway" Snow stifled a slight chuckle. He went to move past Gildarts, his long, black fur-cloak trailing after him in his steps, but he paused as something else caught his attention.

Off to the side of the lobby, a stage of sorts was being set up by a few of the competitions crewmen. For what? Jon began to ponder to himself. Narrowing his eyes a tad, he turned his gaze steadily back toward Gildarts.

"Want to go check that out?"