0008: NEW ARRIVAL BRIEFING

[crux_npcs]

Who: New Arrivals, Graham Baker
Where: Briefing Room
When: Late afternoon, Aprilo 29th
Warnings: None

When awakening, the immediate surroundings are swarming with activity and very chaotic. The people in the medical ward are polite and understanding, but firmly refuse to answer questions until the briefing. Especially not after some group of kooks earlier decided that they'd throw a tantrum and bug out of the hospital before anything can get said. Either given hospital outfits resembling very comfortable pajamas, drone bodies, or their own bodies, they are escorted by polite, unyielding people in red and black uniforms to the briefing room. Fortunately for the robots, things are much more organized.

The Briefing room is large. Not enough to accommodate a giant, but spacious enough for several dozen people. The tiles are black and featureless while the walls are nice, soothing colors. The chairs are high-backed and well-cushioned, more like comforting eggs floating a foot or so off the ground than anything else. Set into the ceiling and floor near the front is a large holographic projector. The floor in front of each seat also has a smaller projector, allowing people to see what the bigger device is showing without having to angle for a view. As of now, it merely displays a rotating pyramid.

Ten members of Security line the walls and various exits, looking rather displeased to be here. Graham Baker, a balding man in an ill-fitting suit, stands at the head of the room with an easy smile, seemingly unbothered by any previous ruckus.

[Questions to the NPCs will go in the briefing thread. The rest of the post is there for people to mill about and do whatever with. The mods will not be doing hangar/medical awakenings unless it's specifically asked for.]

Comments

THE BRIEFING

[crux_npcs]

Baker holds a single up to ward off any early questions or demands. When he speaks, it's in a language that isn't English, Japanese, or anything recognizable, but it still makes perfect sense. Much like the alien writing all over the place that shouldn't make sense, but does. "Please, hold your questions until we're done. I'm going to go through this once, but I'll go over something after that if you need me to. I ask that you pay attention to what everyone else is asking to keep us from hearing a lot of repeats. I'm sure you all want to know what's going on, so we'll just get down to business." He gives a corner a room a pointed look. "You'll want to stay still for this. Anyway." He clears his throat and fiddles with some of the holocontrols, causing the images to shift and reflect what he's covering at that time.

"We, being myself and our Security personnel, represent the Confederacy of Inhabited Systems. We are the 43rd Scutum-Crux Fleet, consisting of a science vessel, two agricultural ships, and seven battleships. Our mission was to explore and found a new colony. This vessel is the Teuberg, a colony ready city-ship that is home to some five hundred thousand beings. And, through some bad luck, you and many others." He bows his head apologetically. "Be patient, there's a point to this. Over one hundred years ago, we ran into a sixth-dimensional being who felt it would be amusing if it helped us 'explore' on the opposite side of the galaxy, dropping us into territory claimed by the Wadjit Empire. The Wadjit thought of us as thieves and declared war soon after. Right now, we're still officially at war with the Empire." The holo displays show their current position in the galaxy, with a large red splotch covering several thousand light years surrounding them. It's clearly labelled as the claimed territory of the Wadjit, and it's clear that they aren't getting out any time soon.

"Months ago, we tried an experimental new method for faster than light travel by means of folding space. It involved manipulation of multiple dimensions and an artificial gravity well, which, as you can probably guess, was rather risky." Graham pulls a small orb out of his pocket and aims it at the main display. Equations and proofs rotate slowly through it, intensely complex. "The experiment failed. Five hundred of our people died and you were dragged here from your relative universes and time periods. For which, we cannot apologize enough. Some of our greatest minds are working on a way to restore you to your rightful homes."

He paces a bit, just to get moving. "However, we don't have enough resources to support everyone if they aren't working. Fleet Admiral Bulsara has, therefore, ordered that all 'New Arrivals' have two months, which is sixty days, to adjust and find either employment, training, or registration for school. In return, you will be granted citizenship into the Confederacy until you can go home." Here, he pauses and adjusts his tie, frowning ever so slightly. "If you don't do so, he has ordered anyone who has not started work or training by the deadline to be, ah. Left on the nearest neutral space station or habitable planet. But I hope it won't come to that."

He coughs nervously and adjusts his tie. "We will supply you with temporary housing, fabricators to make food and clothing, a comm device, some money to get you started, while any training you need to perform in your chosen field will be provided for free. Again, you can find work in the civilian sector, join our civilian-run militia, enlist in the military, or go to school. If you were military in your own world, we will give you special 'guest' status, allowing you to keep your rank. However, you'll still need some training to familiarize yourselves with our tactics and weapons."

"Whatever your choice, you'll be able to register at the Renaissance Center. When you choose your communications device, it will have a map of the city, as well as instructions on how to get anywhere you want to go, and some information on public transportation. For paperwork's sake, the legal age for adulthood is your racial equivalent for sixteen years old. Until then, education is mandatory, whether it's in school or part of an apprenticeship somewhere. You'll have the option to test out of basic courses if you like, of course. No need to make you go over what you already know."

He smooths his jacket and clears his throat. "When you leave this room, your personal possessions can be signed for at the left. Any weapons will require a registration for a permit. You can find comm devices of several makes and models a little further down. These devices contact anyone on the Fleet, providing you have their communications code, supply you with maps and information, access our infonet and other information networks broadcast, and other functions that will be explained in a brief tutorial when you first activate and register your devices. They have a range of several hundred miles and can be in nearly any design you like." He pulls out an orb with several glowing lights. "I prefer the spherical models, but it's your choice. They have cubes, flip-tops, ones set on bracelets or bracers, small tablets... It all comes down to your personal likes."

He pockets the device and folds his hands behind his back again. "In addition, we've already had several people wake up. We've included them on your commlinks, so you can skim through that to see if any of your friends or family were brought over with you."

He clasps the lapels of his jacket and beams. "Now! Any questions?"

[fierybluebird]

At first, Marco was determined to tell the authorities to bugger off. Between the war of Marineford and four years of the political bullshit between Balamb and Galbadia, Marco's temper towards established authority figures hadn't softened much. Still, he promised Grell and Espio he'd listen, so fine, it couldn't hurt. And if he didn't like it, he'd walk out. No problem. But the minute they started talking about folding space and artificial gravity, it all clicked. He'd been toying with time in order to fold the space, but he hadn't been able to counter the pull of gravity from other dimensions. He'd need to use someone with control over gravity, of space. And that.... was not going to happen easily. Especially since even if Blackbeard wound up here, Marco would murder him in a second. He heaved a sigh of relief, his hand going to his forehead.

Wherever Thatch and Ace were, it wasn't dead. Suspended in time maybe, or moving slower, but likely due to the pull. It'd been risky from the start. He told Thatch that, but... Well, it was his brothers. He'd do anything for them, and he'd do it again.

Marco rubbed his temples trying to figure out more about the deaths - probably a part of the anti-gravity and jump -- and more importantly the military and scientists aspects.

Which is roughly when the part about how they were on a freaking spaceship the size of a port, in fucking space sunk in. Espio had said it before, and for all Marco refused to concede he was panicking, he'd definitely been distracted by thoughts of time, death, dimensions, and way too much of the rest.

Space.

They were on a ship.

They were on a flying ship.

In space.

Fuck.

Marco raised a hand. "Can you please tell use more about the military and how it's organized, the Wadjit who think we're pirates," maybe they didn't consider them pirates but hopefully they did, he could work a lot better with that, "And what kind of previous work experience applies for ranks?"

The scientific studies of dimensions he could help with, especially when it came to time, but right then, he had no intentions of going home until he found a way to secure his brothers first and foremost.

[fionna_time]

This stuff was definitely flying over her head, and keeping up only gave her a headache. Than goodness Marco was here.

"Yeah, and tell us about the Scrotom fleet too. Some of us don't know lots about all these ships. Well, these kinda ships anyway."

[crux_npcs]

Graham looks vaguely pained for a moment. "...Scutum-Crux Fleet. I assure you, if we were a Scrotum Fleet, our goals would be vastly different." He coughs.

"As for the ships, well. I can't give you mechanical details, that's not my field. But as for a simple description..." He takes a breath. "We have four Juggernaut-class dreadnaughts. Six miles long, bristling with weapons and defenses, they are our main defense. Our other military ships are the Spartan-class ships, which are rather like small destroyers with fold-space shields. Then we have the..." He rolls his eyes a little. "Glorious Dream of Uncontested Starfall, a gift from a civilization we saved decades ago, acting as our main science vessel. Finally, we have two agricultural ships that supply our food stores, and the Teuberg, which is where we are now."

He rolls his comm orb between his hands and nods. "I can tell you a little bit about them, but nothing really detailed. You might be better served by asking someone in the military, or just looking it up."

[fierybluebird]

Not even trying to maintain a straight deadpan face can keep Marco from snickering childishly at that. Oh man, the jokes that could have been had if the rest of his brothers were here... He'll have to remember to tell it to them later, although it means Scutum-Crux will never be seen as such again by the Whitebeard pirates, but if you asked Marco, he'd say it's worth it.

Half of the ship terms are totally over his head though, so he'll leave it to Fionna.

[crux_npcs]

Graham laughs a bit. "I'm sorry. It's just that the question of military organization gets brought up often, and I'm never quite sure how to answer." It would help if he bothered to look up other militaries. "There's just a lot to cover there, you understand? We've got enlisted and officers, of course. Job-wise, they're split into seven career tracks: Command, Security, Piloting, Science, Medical, Communications, and Engineering." He hoped that each track was fairly self-explanatory.

"As for your work experience... Well, we generally take your word for it. You've still got to go through training, of course, though it's more accelerated than someone starting from scratch." He leans in conspiratorially. "Of course, if you're lying, it usually comes out in mid-training. But so far we haven't gotten many willing to take that risk." Honestly, they hadn't gotten any. But sometimes a little white lie was best.

"...As for the Wadjit, well. They don't really think we're pirates, but we might as well be." Graham shrugs. "Again, they're a very complicated subject. What, exactly, do you want to know?"

[fierybluebird]

Indeed the seven tracks were easy enough. Piloting sounded like Espio's field, although Marco suspected that the chameleon might prefer to go through some schooling again just in case. Communications was probably Grell's thing. Command and Science however were both of interest to Marco at this point.

Still, it was hard to ask the right questions without giving away his hand entirely. Even in Balamb Garden where Marco was almost flamboyantly open about his career choice as a pirate, he still had to downplay it a lot. And his experience hadn't counted for anything. How many times had he wanted to kick Squall in the face? Right. And asking about any large group of enemy was going to be complex of course, but since the Crux Fleet was already deemed thieves, at minimum that put Wadit on an organized level, and the Crux Fleet on a nomadic one.

Marco rubbed his chin in thought and held up a finger. "What do the Wadjit think we've stolen?" The 'We' might be premature, but he might as well roll with it. They were being offered a fantastic deal in exchange for whatever help they could get, and Marco absolutely did not fancy his family's chances in space alone. And until he could find the others, this was going to be a good place for a base of operations. A second finger went up, "How large an area do they claim as their territory?" Everywhere possibly. Or maybe just every planet in the travelable vicinity, or maybe just the valuable planets. Later Marco was going to shake his head at how easily he adjusted his thinking from islands to continents and now to stars. Strange, really. But he didn't have time for that now. A third finger, "And are they as homogenous as the lot in this room," a vague gesture to everyone in the briefing room recently arrived and encompassing several different races and species, "Or is it prejudicially motivated?" Someone had to ask it. Especially given the situation in Balamb and his own world and family.

"And while I might be interested in helping the military, I'll need to see a code of laws first." And whether they required uniforms. Because like hell was he going to wear a uniform again. "I've led sixteen hundred unruly men for the last three decades," because trying to command pirates was a lot harder than marines, no matter what anyone thought. Marines were taught to take orders, pirates argued at any suggestion they didn't like, and that included Marco himself. Which was the other problem, Marco wasn't ever going to take an order from someone he didn't respect, or an order he couldn't respect. "I've been in second in command of fifty thousand men," the Whitebeard allies were extensive, and Marco didn't want to think about the pressure of that all falling on his head 'now.' Whenever he did decide to go back home... hahaha which probably wouldn't be until he could manipulate himself into an alternate universe where Ace and Thatch were alive, at this point. "And I've unfortunately spent the last four years at a Mercenary Academy where I led both a Disciplinary Committee and a smaller more obedient group."

Marco figured he might as well get the credentials out there early before they pulled some Zabala shit and made him start all over again. "However," because there was definitely going to be a however, and Marco figured he might as well make it loud and clear for the sake of the rest of the new people in the room too, "I won't take commands I don't agree with, and I won't follow someone I don't respect. I've only ever had one captain's orders I'd follow, and I find people do a lot better with orders from someone they trust to fight for their goals than someone with a secret agenda." That was also for Espio's sake, even if the chameleon was keeping quiet so far. Although Marco was certain Espio was going to work in a quip or two about the rank deal. Marco had never gotten over the constant series of insulting demotions. And he never would.

"With all due respect, sir," Marco gave a polite nod to their speaker, "I appreciate the opportunity you're offering, and I'll be glad to help you out as I can." He half expected Grell and Espio to give him away on that one. Truthfully, he meant it too, but given how much he'd freaked out at first that morning, his words probably didn't quite match his usual rebellious attitude that had included a lunchroom riot and frequently yelling 'fuck the cops' and 'down with the man' even when the man was a woman. And Marco didn't help people for no reason. He had a million and one good reasons to help here, however, which was why he offered it. "But I want to know what I'm getting into. And when you say we might be pirates..."

A truly GIANT grin split Marco's face, "I hope that means a modicum of freedom, eh?" Still, he gave an almost non-sarcastic salute with two fingers and a far more formal nod of his head. "Though I am quite sorry for your losses." As someone who had dealt with too many deaths of his own in command, and that of his father, captain, and the only person he took orders from, he could definitely sympathize. It was a warning sign too. The risks of what he was so casually playing with. What the Scutum-Crux Fleet was playing with, as well.

[crux_npcs]

Well, this was going to be a doozy. Graham chewed his lower lip, wondering how to start. Well, first things first. The Wadjit. "The Wadjit believe that we're after their territory. While we'd settle here if we could, it would make our lives significantly easier, they may never let up. They haven't for a hundred and twenty-five years, after all."

He brings up the map of the Wadj territory again. "This represents around sixteen thousand lightyears. Pardon me, but I'm going to assume you don't know exactly how fast that is. As you're human, I'll also assume you're from Earth. Light takes eight and a half minutes to reach from the sun to the earth. A lightyear is, probably obviously, the distance light can move in a year. It takes light eight and a half minutes to travel one hundred and fifty million kilometers, and the Wadjit claim more than sixteen thousand times that as their territory."

Graham holds up a finger. "Note the use of 'claim'. They like to put up the front of an empire ruled by an iron grip, but their military resources are thin and primitive compared to ours. There are many independent systems even in the territory they claim, consisting of different races, such as you asked. Some of them ally themselves with the Wadjit. Few resist. Few have the power, of course." He pauses and decides to stop there. He could go on for quite a bit, and the man had more questions.

He waits patiently for Marco to finish rattling off his (admittedly impressive) list of credentials. And then... That catch. He smiles and nods, accepting Marco's condolences easily enough. "The Fleet is big on freedom, but... Well, even with your experience, the military tends to frown on, ah. Cowboy Captains. The military might not be for you. Still." He tries to smile relaxingly. "You'll find any information on laws and such you want in either the library or on your comm device, when you pick it up. Like I said earlier, you're being granted temporary citizenship, so it's in our best interests to make sure you know what is and isn't illegal, am I right?"

[gunholic]

Axl was more than ready to spend the entire fragging briefing curled up in the stupid egg pod and sulk. It was bad enough he had to wake up without a body-- and really whoever thought that was a marvelous idea did not have any idea how close they'd come to him shooting them in the face afterward-- but whoever had managed to sim his programming outside his body had also confiscated his armor call. Paperwork bullshit for things that weren't his fault?

So tempted to shoot people in the face. And he couldn't even chalk that one up to Lumine's data.

The word "citizenship" did get his attention, though. 'roids in the Earth Federation didn't get full citizen status, hence Mavericks usually getting retired without trial, but if here was different it might almost even things back up.

"You guys have any paramilitary or armed NGOs here?" Axl finally asked, waving a little. He didn't much like the idea of joining a formal military (too Earth Federation, and he was still a bit bitter about getting almost bombed into oblivious kthx), but the Hunters weren't really militia either... and he was willing to bet that if this "Admiral Bulsara" could tell the civilian sector what to do about all of them, there was probably a pretty incestuous relationship going on between the militia and the military proper.

[crux_npcs]

"NGOs?" He frowns for a moment. "Non-Government Operatives, maybe? Sorry, I'm not sure what you mean." He shrugs apologetically. "If you're not looking for the military, there's the militia. Civilian run and operated, they generally deploy when the military tells them, but they operate on their own other than that. It's a popular choice for you new arrivals."

He leans in a bit, dropping his voice. "A large chunk of the reason is that, in the end, it looks like it pays more. Since you get bounties for capturing ships and the like, while the military doesn't. In the long run, though, it doesn't." He straightens and rocks on his heels. "There was a group of mercenaries a while back, but I haven't heard anything about them recently. They may have shut down."

[gunholic]

Well, that sort of indirectly answered his question.

"What about.. I dunno.. regular police?"

Yeeeeeeeah, Axl was starting to think that staying away from the fighty establishment until he had some better info was probably a good idea. There was a little too much convenience about the whole being stuck in the middle of hostile territory and trading a bunch of people for others who might be able to fight. And even if it wasn't... blindly trusting to a single chain of command started more problems than it solved. He'd seen that enough times already.

[crux_npcs]

"Ah!" He laughs. "I should have mentioned them, yes. There are regular police forces. They handle the purely civilian side of things. Don't expect to be out on a battlefield if you join them, however." Their criminal underworld wasn't exactly vast and threatening.

Graham straightens his suit a little. "If I were you, I'd just ask around. You have two months to decide. Don't jump into something you'll end up hating right off the bat. Take some classes at school if you need more time."

[redcinemareel]

Everything Baker was saying sounded exactly like what Marco had said. Fates, was Marco actually right?! It seems that messing with time and space in space sounds dangerous, and ridiculous. Yet it was all very real. She wonders how much more Marco will get involved with figuring things out when it comes to space time control. It was now sounding similar to the battle to control and abuse time.

Marco had already asked the more important questions of rank. She was curious about training, since all of the technology surrounding them was so far out from Balamb Garden's standard that she wanted to learn as much as she possibly could. The room alone deserved a walk around when this was all done. She definitely wanted one of these chairs.

Grell raised her hand, still wearing her hospital gown, and had stepped up her wardrobe with a blanket.

"What are the most popular foods here?" It had better not include hot dogs, or so help them all.

[fierybluebird]

Marco couldn't help laughing at that. It was a relief, and the first real tension-breaker he'd had all day. Leave it to Grell to get to the bottom of the more important things he had completely forgotten about.

Well, they mentioned agriculture, so where there were grains, there had to be booze. Or at least, the capacity for booze. No matter what foods were popular here or not, Marco mentally sketched a few more plans while they bought more time.

'I love you' Marco mouthed quietly to the woman at his side.

I hope that 'woman at his side' is Grell LOL

[redcinemareel]

Why was Marco laughing? This is serious! She doesn't want to battle her way through a cafeteria again just to get to the other non-hot dog food!

She sees his message and smiles, mouthing 'I love you, too' and added a wink and smile.

BUT OF COURSE ;) I assumed Fionna is on Grell's other side and Espio on Marco's

[fierybluebird]

And that in itself is what amuses him.

He cheers right up at her response, the anxiety and stress from this morning that caused the panicky outburst already beginning to fade away.

[crux_npcs]

"Right now?" He blinks at the question and half-laughs, taken aback. "Ah. I'm pretty sure that chicken simmered tiberun sauce is getting pretty popular. One of the popular holo-drama characters said it was good, and you know how people are about pop culture like that." He shrugs. "Really, though, once you get the hang of programming fabricators, you can come up with nearly any style. You've just got to get used to the taste not being quite right."

Unless you actually went out and bought fresh ingredients. But just making the computer fab your meal was so much easier.

[redcinemareel]

Finally! Grell could actually make a home cooked meal without poisoning anyone!

"Any style?!" She's imagining a meal consisting of tender, moist steak with side servings of some classy pasta. This fabricator is going to be her best friend! "And these are equipped in all lodgings?"

[crux_npcs]

He holds up a finger. "With practice, any style. I'd suggest reading the instruction manual. Fabricators can make quite a few things, ranging from simple electronics to food, but sometimes the taste and texture is..." He draws a face. "I tried to make a quick bread roll the other day and mixed up some of the commands. It looked and tasted right, but the texture was a tad mushy under the crust. Fabricators are handy, and yes, installed everywhere, but they can't beat something cooked fresh."

[chaoscontroller]

Waking up in that place had been quite the déjà vu experience. The stasis tubes, the beds, the white coats, everything had been awfully familiar, something perhaps to be thankful for. While Shadow was still confused, distrustful and wary of everything and everyone in there, he allowed them to explain, he even allowed them to give him instructions and as such he followed the group to the very expected briefing. He wanted to know what was going on, besides, even if accidentally, they had saved him from certain death, unleashing hell on them would probably be... unwise.

When he entered the room he was even wearing that silly looking hospital outfit (in his size and everything... how thoughtful), because apparently someone thought fur wasn't enough coverage for him. He was missing his usual attire, in need for his actual hover shoes, gloves and more importantly, his inhibitor rings. No wonder why he felt slightly lightheaded, he was using all his strength to keep his own power inside. This briefing thing would hopefully be fast, he needed his stuff back or they would have to deal with something bigger than the fuzz that he heard had happened in the medical ward.

He sat on one of those funny looking chairs —surely the good old Doctor Eggman would love the design...—, crossed his arms upon his chest and he listened. He couldn't hold a bitter sneer that went together with very clear mocking sound at how their experiment failed. Attempting to control time and space like little kids, amateurs... Hah... Somehow he could bet (if he had anything) that such brilliant idea had been engineered by humans.

There was so much information. Or perhaps not enough. Shadow had never been given the chance to choose what he wanted to do, not in this way, not after everything... He certainly had to do something just... what?

Everything, of course.

The hedgehog doesn't raise a hand, but does raise his voice over the crowd.

"Excuse me if I find hilarious that your first suggestion for a job is for everybody to fight your war instead of helping fixing the main problem."

Okay, it wasn't the first thing Baker had suggested, but it wasn't the point. And whether if Shadow found it funny or not, he was deadly serious. He was sure he could give their scientist a lesson or two about how time and space worked.

[espio]

Up until this point, Espio had been quietly paying attention to Baker, frowning as he processed the information and tried to consider what he and the rest of his family might do here. After all, he didn't particularly want to join the military - he has the training, albeit for a mercenary organisation rather than a military one, but if there's more options available then he would really rather not be fighting someone else's war.

What snapped him out of his thoughtful reflection, however, was the sound of a familiar voice that instantly had him on edge, the first words coming to his mind being Oh. Shit.

Of all the people to run into, it had to be Shadow?!

Espio defensively backed into his seat and tensed, scanning the room for the hedgehog and, on finding him, watched him cautiously. Logic reminded him that the last time he'd met Shadow, it had been an alternate... emotion, however, told him simultaneously to run away and to attack.

Regardless of which Shadow it might be, Espio's attention was now completely diverted from the whole briefing and was now firmly on what he saw as the murderous monster in the room. Clearly, his questions would have to wait.

[chaoscontroller]

Shadow was, of course, oblivious about anyone else's reactions to his words. He had his own issues to deal with in that the moment and he'd rather focus on not creating a crater in the middle of the briefing room if he allowed his emotions take the best of him. Despite of his efforts, though, to observant eye, there might be the random sparkle of energy coming from the hedgehog, as a electrical malfunction.

However, Shadow did feel a heavy stare on him, turning almost automatically to meet yellow eyes looking rather seriously at him. There was no recognition in Shadow's features for this individual, but he did stare long and hard, if only because the other looked like someone that could come from Shadow's world, but a moment later, the hedgehog turned back to the front of the room again.

[espio]

Espio, however, didn't take his eyes off Shadow when he turned away. He had no idea whether he had been recognised or not, and Shadow did not seem very interested in him, but still the fact it was Shadow played on Espio's mind. He flinched when he spotted a small crackle of energy, but it didn't seem to mean anything.

Finally, though, despite his head still buzzing, he realised he was staring and averted his eyes, glancing anywhere but at Shadow - At Marco, at Baker, at the floor.

"Damn..." he murmured softly to himself, thoughts turning to absolute chaos.

[redcinemareel]

Yes, that part was something Grell wasn't very enthused about. She saw the black...cat? Wait, didn't she see him back in Balamb? Well, anyway, she couldn't help but notice the other.

"Agreed, although I do find that having actual options to not fight is nice." Unlike where she just came from. "They could have offered much less."

[chaoscontroller]

Oh? Well, Shadow wasn't expecting someone to agree with him, but it was the extra information that was given which made him look for the one speaking. And he found her, sitting right next to the weirdos from before. It made him curious, though, the way she expressed herself like that.

"Talking by experience?"