[[For reference since we're restarting,<a class="postlink" href="https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/3291946/Mahina.pdf">Johan!</a>Let's start gently, I'll see what ambrose has in mind...]]<br/><br/>Johan's torn.<br/><br/>On the one hand, Sasara had pretty bluntly chosen this course, and given no indication that it wasn't what she wanted. Johan had seen such things before- a soldier simply saw too much on the field of battle, and the next time someone pretty and underfed batted their eyes something just... snapped behind their eyes, and they'd feed themselves to another with every indication of pleasure. For another thing, the oni was... well, beautiful. And attacking her would ruin their only shot at learning more about this place, which could be a matter of life and death for all of them. Cold logic suggested he stand by and let Sasara get herself turned into extra oni padding, and perhaps if he was lucky he'd get to mourn her while fondling some of that padding later. In this world, most soldiers figured out early on that they were most likely to die in the churning stomach of someone else, and the lucky would have it in someone they liked at a time of their choosing and without too much pain. This too militated against an abrupt stab in the back.<br/><br/>On the other hand, the idea of letting one of His People get digested by someone they just met, of uncertain allegiance or stability, was... disquieting. Bringing everyone back was always a goal, and if you couldn't do that you couldn't call your mission a complete success. Watching the serpentine bulge in Disa writhe a little drew a tormented guilt from the mercenary leader-<span style="font-style: italic">did this happen because of a mistake I made?</span>And with the oni's unquestioned strength, he had to assume only a prompt and massive sneak attack could rescue his ally.<br/><br/>On the gripping hand... he wasn't entirely sure that all of them working together could manage to do anything other than annoy the oni and schedule them all for the same fate as Sasara, not sure at all. And Sasara hadn't called for help or assistance at all. With a face set like a stone mask, Johan keeps his sword in his scabbard, ears straining to hear something, anything that would pull him off the fence and force him to either fight the oni or relinquish all pretensions of being able to look at himself in still water without hatred.