There wasn't anything Oliver could do to help. He wasn't a part of this world, and even if he was, he lacked the skills needed to defend himself-- let alone gather information for Asch. The soldier had decided a long time ago that Oliver was better-suited to the Plane. He knew when to take cover there, and he knew when to interview and collect data. He was, overall, very effective at dealing with the goings-on. Asch liked that. He liked that at least one person would humor his questions and give him information without too much of a struggle. And he liked that Oliver listene, when Asch needed him to.

Even though they were fighting, Asch knew Oliver could still perform what was asked of him. He would try to explain things a little more when they had shelter-- which was, thankfully, nearby.

He deserved at least that.

Asch led Oliver around the hill-- which was really more like a small cliff-- to a relatively flat, bare spot. It was comfortable for being outside. There were rocks and logs to sit on, and signs that someone had made many campfires here. It hid them from the wind, and by extension, the plains.

"Sit." Not much of an invitation, but this was Asch. He took a seat on a rock, unbuckled a pack from his waist, and neatly spread the contents: cooking utensils, small bags of dried and salted food, a half loaf of bread, assorted spices. He also carried some cheese and butter in separate oiled cloths.