There's something--cocksure, a little flippant--to the man. Cael spares him another glance, just for that snatch of red fabric. Pulled through worlds and unconcerned. In death or life, that sits right, with the red on his chest. The red next to his initials on the vial.

But Vermidis sat on its wealth, and they're stragglers here. Useless, is the estimation Cael hovers his judgment above. Too soon, but the scale tips. "Powerful enough to bring us here," he thinks aloud. He isn't sure what it is, and John doesn't seem like much of a listener. "I imagine they don't need to guard their things. There's no telling how much of this they have, and there's certainly more where it came from."

The seeds are the curious thing, when he moves deeper into the room. One of the samples, despite its strange language, looks familiar enough: he pockets it for later.