Kushiel looked around the room, remaining silent save for the gentle hiss and din of a motor letting out a quiet whirr in protest. Finally, his communicator clicked, and he sighed. "Where might I be able to remove my helmet? Is there a station or similar apparatus? My air vent seems to have become... Clogged." He lifted his giant gauntlet, pointing a segmented finger at the small slit that laid partially hidden along the underside of his beaked helm.
(Apologies for being so quiet lately. Hard summer.)