[It is not his time as a Glaive that ensures he doesn't flinch at the light motes. It's the years hunting creatures that can teleport and will take advantage of the tiniest weakness. So he stares blandly at Sync's little display, looks down at the glyph as it appears and steels himself.

In the end even his nerve isn't that infallible. The dagger that's still in his hand sails backwards with a practiced flick of the wrist and he warps after it in a flash of blue light. Something Sync might recognize if he's ever seen Ardyn or Izunia warp.

He lands in a crouch about three feet outside the glyph's range, watching and... yeah he nods his head, smirking slightly, brows raised.]

Okay, you can blow shit up good. Still don't see you flying so don't bitch if I don't stick the landing pretty enough for you.

[Look. He panicked. Now he has to defend this all day.]