At some point in the past few days, Bastille had slipped past the apathy towards newcomers and started to feel almost guilty. Guilty, that so many of them seemed to be arriving at a shitty fucking time; that they were stuck with him instead of Starry, that they were joining a sicking fucking ship because god only knew that Bastille was going to burn the damned place to the ground. Gods, they had no idea what the fuck they were getting into, and he had half the mind to tell them to just fucking beat it and go join somewhere else. He could hardly do that, however; Starry would be so fucking disappointed, and therefore Bast had to struggle to be nice and welcoming and pretend that he wasn't falling apart under the loss and pressure of expectation.

Unfortunately, he was the first one to stumble upon this newcomer. His listless stare flickered over them briefly, and he looked tired as he regarded them. Well, they certainly seemed to know what they wanted. "Uh, yeah, it is. This is the Ascendants. You lookin' to join or some shit?" he asked, forcing his tone to stay level, trying not to look too miserable despite his shitty state since Starry's death. After a beat, he realized he needed to get better at introducing himself, and offered vaguely, "Oh-- I'm Bastille." No title, because he would sooner die than say it aloud, thanks.