"Especially in the middle of the fucking desert," Midnighter says, a little dry. He's always been more for urban environments, himself. All the better to sleep rough, and some part of his mind still thinks that way, despite not having to any longer.

"Midnighter," he says without hesitation. He knows it sounds strange, but it's his name, the only one he has, and he refuses to lie about that any more, either. "And-" he stills. He was about to say something silly and pithy, this is the beginning of a beautiful partnership and suggest they bust some heads together, but he can hear something in the tilting accent of the Crusaders, French but not quite.

"Someone's coming," Midnighter hisses in a stage whisper, hearing it before normal human ears could pick it up. He casts around, looking for a shadow to fold them both into.