Roland's spent most of his first day here in his Legionnaire quarters. He'd had to. Just before he'd come here, shortly before Roland had even heard the word Legionnaire, the man in black had shown Roland a vision of what he'd called the universe, shown him reality in all its size, in some of its complexity. Roland had withstood the knowledge then, but only just. He isn't convinced, still, that this place, this machine the size of an entire civilization, isn't a cruel extension of that same vision. Roland had known he was hiding from the reality of this place, spending the day in that room, but he'd known he'd needed to, too.

Except that, now that he's out, it takes an act of will to keep himself from wandering. But will Roland has and so he uses it, and he makes it to what's called the training gym and he stares. Then he sighs, looks annoyed, and sets out through it, looking for anyone likely.

If the other man finds him, it'll probably be by the swimming pool. There's an almost physical compulsion for Roland to stop and stare at it. If he's found there it might be because of the wooden grips sticking out of the holsters at his hips, the guns which look more old fashioned in this setting than Roland would quite believe. Or maybe what would really mark him out is the dumbfounded look on his face - it'd mark him out as one of the new crop of Legionnaires, anyway, and he's too overcome for a good minute or two to wipe it off.

But after that he'll move on, and maybe they'll find each other that way. Can't stay and stare forever, after all.