[ Someone speaks and Oscar whips his head around, visibly tense. It only takes him a moment to take stock of Dipper. A young man right around Oscar's age, a little taller and a little stockier; blind in one eye; facial scars; armed. Probably too young to be an actual Huntsman, but perhaps a student at a primary combat academy, and definitely someone that's seen his share of trouble.
There is, ultimately, no hint of recognition in Oscar's expression.
It occurs to Oscar that he is standing here holding his cane like a sword, while this stranger has been kind enough to leave his own weapon holstered. He forces himself to relax and lets one hand fall to his side. He shifts his grip on the Long Memory and, with a neat little flourish (that Dipper might recognize as a distinctly Ozpin-like gesture), flips it around so that he can rest the tip against the ground. ]
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There is, ultimately, no hint of recognition in Oscar's expression.
It occurs to Oscar that he is standing here holding his cane like a sword, while this stranger has been kind enough to leave his own weapon holstered. He forces himself to relax and lets one hand fall to his side. He shifts his grip on the Long Memory and, with a neat little flourish (that Dipper might recognize as a distinctly Ozpin-like gesture), flips it around so that he can rest the tip against the ground. ]
Sorry. You're right, I just woke up here.
[ Pause. ]
And... I'm not entirely certain where here is.