"Scope of the situation." Said while he's turning, looking at the room. Starting to pick them out as fast as sighting.

The scope of a situation where fifty people had been torn from their times, and brought through all of time to this place. This ship. This locked point. Leaving trails behind them. It's no wonder he felt like things didn't fit in this room from the moment he arrived. It was because they didn't.

These people didn't belong here. In this place. In this time. Gathered together. But for what purpose. What reasons. Whose.