Wick entered the Commons. She'd only been here once before, on the way from the shuttle bay to her barracks, but the way this place was laid out made it appear that she'd be walking through here often.

There were a few other soldiers in here, but she ignored them all, walking towards the large wall terminal and pulling the small access keyboard from the wall. A small window opened exactly in front of her, and she used the guest login to request barracks information. After wrestling with the terminal for a few minutes, she finally got it to display the listings for the barracks postings.

Jor wasn't among them.

Grinning, Wick tugged Jor out into the Commons - and froze.

Not 30 feet away, Dante was sitting on one of the benches with another soldier, smiling and talking. The thick waterfall of red curls was unmistakable. Her ex-commander looked taller, a little more slender than she had been before. She had been graduated 6 months before Wick and Jor, and looked the better for it - no apparent injuries, no smudges under her eyes from lack of sleep. Looks like she'd finally gotten over her fallen Angel, thought Wick with a smirk.

Coming back from a military strategy lecture, Dante and Mitch strolled slowly down the corridors, into the Commons. She'd been at Command School for six months now, and she walked with a familiar air, wary yet comfortable in her surroundings. Two years had passed since her fight at Battle School, and Dante had grown in those years; taller, slimmer, but with a steely strength about her. Same long, curly fire-red hair, same straight-laced stance and calculated poise. And her eyes... far from being the mild-violet of times past, had settled into a cold quicksilver that never failed to keep those she didn't know at a distance.

With her old commander, however, she allowed a slight smile to flicker across her lips as he joked. She'd been in his army for a few months, as his second-in-command, and once she arrived here to find him again, they'd reverted to the semi-close friendship they'd shared before. He left her alone when she wanted space, and she left him alone. Worked just fine.

"Let's relax before that class they call "math," eh?" Mitch slid onto a bench near the stone monument bearing the crest of the International Fleet. She nodded in agreement and sat beside him, leaning her back against the wall as she threw her books onto the floor. Dante grinned a little and glanced around, scanning the assembly of adults and teenagers rushing about. A sudden movement caught her gaze, and her eyes narrowed at the sight of an all too unwelcome face.

Jor.

Dante nudged Mitch hard with her foot, and he followed her look, spotting Jor standing slightly confused nearby. He was talking to someone she couldn't see; who, she didn't care. But how the hell had he managed to get here? Her eyes flashed ice as she watched him carefully, Mitch leaning nearer her with a protective air. "What the fuck?" He too remembered their little spat in Panther Army, back at Battle School. She pushed him away lightly, standing, straightening her shoulders as she stared at him.

Slightly bewildered as Wick practically dove for cover, Jor glanced around. "What is it, Wick, why are you..." Then he spotted her, now standing to call his name. Dante... unmistakably her, the same fiery hair and cold glances and husky silky voice. No wonder Wick slid behind a nearby post to hide. He wished, just briefly, that he'd been quick enough to do the same.

"Long time no see, Jélice." Jor folded his arms across his chest as he stood his ground, boots planted wide and face set resolutely as he stared, matched her silvery gaze with his own serpentine eyes. At least Nathan wasn't here too. This was some reunion party, Dante and... and Mitch, his old commander from Panther. He almost rolled his eyes in frustration, hissing quietly to himself.

Not Wick too... Dante tensed as the girl appeared beside Jor, slipping an arm around his waist with a little smirk at her, her false greeting rubbing at the edge of Dante's nerves. Some things never changed... and it looked as if all of the old gang was here. Who are they going to bring in next, Nathan?

Wick matched his grin. "The Game Arena, my pet. I think you just might like it." His fingers wrapped tightly around hers made her more aware of the ring on her fingers, and her grin widened into a smile. "Come on, now. Quite day-dreaming about Dante and let's go." The sting of his ancient history with Dante had much diminished in the intervening years they'd spent together, and she was bold enough to tease him with it, every now and then.

Bloody hell, that was the only thought that went through his mind as Mat stepped thourgh the entrance way to the Commons. Why the hell did they stop? Those dice had stopped, this was bad, very bad. Now all Mat wanted to do was run and hide. I'm getting damn tired of this, I feel like a rag doll.

Yet he couldn't see why they stopped.

Confused and in a bad temper, Wick walked out in the commons, not really paying attention to the flow of traffic around her beyond keeping out of everyone's way. Jor could be so damned confusing sometimes...

But she wasn't really confused. She was chagrined. He'd been ready to love her, to do what she knew people who loved each other did, and she hadn't even told him she loved him. Even that would have been something. Maybe he wouldn't have been as angry. Maybe that would have been enough for him, and she'd let him leave, desolate and frustrated.

She pushed past a boy standing at the far end of the commons, not bothering to apologize, and walked towards the Gaming Arena.

Mat whirled was he was accosted from behind, pushed to the side by an unknown assailant. Great, and just as the dice stop rolling, really beautiful. As he got his bearings he saw who had done it, a girl with snow white skin and raven black hair...

Hey, isn't that Wick from Fox? he thought to himself. And the dice had just stopped rolling as she pushed past him.

"Bloody hell and damnation," he murmured under his breath if the dice had stopped, he was in for some real trouble, because it followed that girl like a vulture to a dead carcass. She was nothing but trouble, and it looked like he might get some more.

Taking Jor's arm, Bianca strolled through the commons. The muscles in his arm were tense, and she smiled quietly to herself. He was a little high-strung, but that would make him more interesting later, she was certain. For now it was time to be understanding.

Feeling a little uncomfortable as Bianca took his arm, leaning against him just slightly as they walked through the commons, Jor felt himself tense unwillingly. He was still having trouble understanding what was happening with Wick... during their interlude this morning, he'd felt more connected with her than ever before. And now, he was experiencing the same confused anger he'd felt that first time he'd beaten Wick. As if he could love her and hate her at the same moment. This was anything but a good situation.

Bianca looked up at him, a little frown of concern on her face as she felt him relax a little. The little girl had obviously frustrated him. She knew this line of attack backwards and forwards, knew exactly what to say.

"Oh, Jorry, it's easy to understand. You two knew each other in BattleSchool, right?" She sighed. "Some people just don't know how to grow up. Some people never do." She squeezed his arm gently with her fingers.

"It's not easy coming here from BattleSchool when you hardly know anyone. It was probably a relief to you to have the familiar company...but now you'll make new friends. It won't be all bad, I promise."

When Mode left the Python Quad, he didn't even pause in the corridor. They would be watching him his first twenty-four hours. He had to play it safe until he knew they'd lost interest. Then he would deal with Wick.

For now, he would watch instead. Every soldier in the school passed through the Commons at least three times a day, usually more. If he spotted Wick, he would know her Quad by her uniform. After that it would just be a matter of waiting for the right time.

As he walked into the Commons, he ignored the stares his armband earned him from the occasional passersby. He had spent enough time as a specimen to be completely indifferent to the attention of strangers. As long as he didn't start screaming or killing anyone, they'd lose their interest soon enough.

With a wave goodbye to Mitch, Dante strolled slowly through the Commons, humming quietly to herself as she watched the crowds of soldiers and officers scurrying around her. Classes were over for today, her tactical planning exam done, and she was in no hurry to go anywhere. And so she continued to walk, almost happy, until her eyes rested on a boy leaning against a pillar nearby. It was the white band around his arm that initially caught her attention, and then the lithe grace with which he rested, still wary and ready, like a snake always ready to strike. Unwillingly, her eyes traced over him, a slight blush on her cheeks until he turned slightly as his gaze connected with hers.

Shhh, Anjél, you're safe with me, I promise I won't let Jorry hurt you...

Please forgive me, sir, for failing you when Jor attacked...

Jet aime, mon ange...

That's when it dawned on her, struck her so hard Dante almost back stepped in surprise. Those slate-grey eyes, the white-blonde hair, once in a long battle braid, now spiked. Same tall, carefully controlled strength. Nathan. It was Nathan.

If he had changed dramatically, she was exactly as he remembered her.

A little taller, perhaps. Her figure had matured, becoming both more slender and more full. Her hair was still the same mass of red curls. He could still remember the feel of those curls against his fingers.

He hadn't bothered to inquire about her graduation status. Part of him had known she would be here, but he had blocked that out as best he could. She wouldn't want anything to do with him, and he didn't really want anything to do with her. It had been so easy for her to believe evil of him, to deny him a chance to defend himself with words instead of blows. He wasn't the only one guilty of unforgivable actions.

Still, his heart ached dully somewhere below the ice as he saw her horrified surprise, saw her hand go to her slender white throat as if searching for something. The locket. Wick had taken it from his bedside after Jor had beaten him so badly...and after they'd tied him down. And before he knew exactly what Wick had done.

An unwilling flush touched his cheeks, so long unused to any emotion but vengeance, but it was the only outward sign of emotion he gave. Everything else was locked down, out of the way, and had been for years. Even this apparition couldn't shake him. He wouldn't let it.

Two years is a long time to be separated from anyone, an impossibly long stretch of hurried days and painfully endless nights. Dante used to stay awake for days at a time, once an entire week, before she was forced to sleep... and even then, her fatigue did nothing to protect her from her dreams. She had hoped, wished, prayed that time did indeed soften old hate and rage and love. Her mother had always told her that, a little mantra when she was sent to battleschool, something to remind her that her homesickness would be forgotten soon enough, and memories would become muted.

No one ever told her it wasn't true.

Because everything came flooding back at his icy glance, all those memories she'd repressed; kisses and touches and lingering glances they'd exchanged while together in their clandestine love. Even the pain from his blows, the letter he'd sent, his arms wrapped around her as he held her helpless, broken ribs stabbing into her flesh, tears of betrayal and rage pouring down her face. Dante ached in remembrance, finding her hand shaking slightly before she could stop herself.

But she too had had two years to harden herself. She was no longer the naive girl she'd been before him, her violet eyes now permanent quicksilver, cold mercury that was as icy as her psyche. Betrayal had formed a shell around her heart, protective armor she had vowed she'd wear that first night as she lay drifting in and out of consciousness, still wavering from the anesthesia of her surgery. She'd loved and been betrayed twice, two times to many. Dante was no longer untouched or trusting. Nathan had changed all that.

She too was ice.

Mode kept his eyes away from her long enough to let her turn around and then watched her depart the Commons. Her red curls fell nearly to her waist now, and her gait was the same as he remembered it, delicate but undeniably purposeful.

The ache returned, and he watched her until she was gone. He hadn't really been prepared for her presence, not this soon after arrival. His mind wandered unwillingly through memories of their brief sweet time together in the BattleSchool, her gentle touch, the feel of her lips...

Still walking slowly, her muscles slowly acclimatizing, Wick entered the Commons and went to the big map grid on the wall. After a few clicks, she got it to bring up the pathway to the Library from the Commons. She hadn't been there yet, but looking at the scaled map it appeared huge.

When he spotted her, she was moving slowly enough that he was surprised she'd gotten as far as she had before he saw her.
Wick.

She looked older too, though she still appeared more youthful than Dante. She was still slender, her incredibly pale skin still paper white. Her pallid complexion made her look ill to him, like one of the walking dead.

Which was precisely what she was.

The Hydra on her shoulder told him what Quad she was in. He watched her map a route to the Library. Why was she by herself? His eyes narrowed. This seemed too easy. Where was Jor?

She turned and left the commons, but not before casting a glance back in his direction. He immediately looked elsewhere, and she shrugged it off and left.

Helen walking into the commons, little apprehenshive. Most of the people around her were a bit older than her, but that's the way that it was a lot. After the last little fight she'd been in with one of the Griffin soldiers, they almost iced her, but decided to graduate her about a year and a half early instead.

Her earthside leave had been anything but pleasant, it only sparked the memories inside of her that she had tried through all of battle school to cover up. The memories that not even the administrators had known about. They had sent her back to France, said it would be a healing experience... and she'd had taken no more than two steps out of the building. She was surprised that they didn't try to make her sit in with a psyciatrist for the rest of her stay. But they didn't, so she had spent the entire time in the gym and in the puny simulator games that they had there.

She glanced about the halls, something about the way it looked said that it would be harder here. But she could take harder. She'd made it through battle school. She'd eventually been transfered out of Fox when they started a new army, been made a second and eventually a first. But it didn't mean much to her. The game didn't matter. The only game that she'd actually liked playing was the simulator, and only castor seemed to play that well. She wondered where castor was. She hadn't seen much of him after she'd been transfered from Fox, and hoped that he was here. After all he was the reason she, herself, was here. He'd gotten her through battleschool, and got her to realize what she wanted to do... not command but pilot.

Helen smiled a bit when she realized that the simulators that they would have here would be a bit better than the ones at battleschool. The ones at battle school were for fun, the ones here were for actually training. If only Castor was around, they were due for another game.

Castor was just coming back from AdNav II when he stopped and blinked, a grin slowly spreading across his face as he spotted Helen across the Commons with her little duffle, the same army issue that he'd carried up on his arrival six months ago. What a stroke of luck to catch her just as she was arriving! He could show her to her Quad, maybe get her settled in, and then they could hit the simulators. He couldn't wait to see what she could do in the streamlined pods they had here.

She'd grown up a lot. She was almost as tall as he was now, light blonde hair still cut boyishly short, but the rest of her looked much more girl-like now. He looked away for a moment, feeling a little embarrassed. Here he was, ogling her rudely when he should be over there talking to her.

Helen turned suddenly as she heard the familiar voice. Was it really him? He was taller, a bit more muscular but it was definitely him. His brown eyes beamingand he seemed to have lost some of the shyness that he had all throughout battle school. Her eyes lit up when she saw him rushing toward her. She didn't know if she'd be able to find him here... and definitely not this soon.

"Castor!" Her lips curved up in a small smile. Command School was definitely going to be a lot of fun now that she knew Castor was here also. She detatched from the wall, weaving through the people walking by, and met him half way. When she got there she gave him a little hug, hoping he wouldn't be too embarrassed by it.

She broke away from the hug and shifted her duffle to her other side. "It's been a long time Cas. How are the sims here? We're due for another game. Couldn't find anyone back at battle school that can play half as good as you. It's boring when your wingman gets blown away straight off in the first level. You have to go throught the next fifteen levels all by yourself."

Bianca grinned at Rhemi's obvious discomfiture at having spoken a little more boldly than he felt comfortable with. He seemed like the malleable type. He'd be a fighter pilot, nothing else, but at least he was a known quantity. Maybe he'd be a good fighter pilot. Indifference was disappointing, but tolerable.

So many people...

Her home had been a tiny cell, only large enough to hold a half-cot and a basin for water. Even the Institute, although expansive in its towering intimidation, had been restraining. She hadn't been anywhere so open, hadn't seen so many people, hadn't been exposed to all the sounds and lights and voices around her for eight years. Too long. Kat hadn't felt even the mildest sense of apprehension until Mode brought her out here into the Commons.

Mode looked down at her involuntarily, his eyebrows raising slightly.

Snickering at his comment, grateful for the distraction he gave her, Kat shot Mode a feigned withering glance. "That's supposed to be for animals, dumbshit... they can smell fear too. Better go take a shower, before they attack us helpless little things and I have to protect you again." She pushed away from the wall then, taking three short, sauntering strides into the Commons, her gaze piercing as the few people who dared to look at her glanced away nervously. Her poise, tense as if always ready to pounce, caused a group of soldiers to walk a wide circle around her, eyeing her armband with apprehension as she smiled flirtatiously in their direction.

Stalking through the Commons on her way back to the barracks, Dante spotted an unwelcome figure in front of a computer terminal on the far side of the plaza. Nathan was with some copper-haired girl, and the wary familiarity with which he wrapped his arm around her shoulders briefly caused her eyes to flash silver. She clenched her fists, muscles tensing with jealousy. Not jealousy, she tried to tell herself, because you could care less who he's with.

Tugging Jor along, Wick sauntered into the Commons, still smiling, until she saw something that made her feel like someone had just punched her in the stomach.

She dimly realized that she had stopped walking, and that Jor was looking at her strangely. She couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from the tall, well-built boy who stood facing away from her, looking at the map screen. She noted his companion peripherally, but his arm was what drew her attention. It bore the white band of the Institute.

And she had no doubt whose arm it was wrapped around, impossible as it seemed. No one else had that particular brand of poise, the grace that showed even in the tiny movement as he hugged his companion briefly. The long battle braid was gone, short spikes in its place.

Her words, crystal clear, flew through her mind as she stared at Angel's back. IMPOSSIBLE! her mind ranted at her madly, but she knew with sick certainty that it wasn't impossible, had passed the realm of possibility and into the real, a nightmare brought to life.

...Poor little fallen Angel," purred Wick, her voice dripping with pity before it turned feline and mean. "I don't think Dante will want much to do with you after this. Maybe they'll only transfer you...but I doubt it. They're going to ice you for what you've done here today, cherub. Just make sure you remember who helped you along...

She made a mock face of hurt as her eyes continued to sweep the room, settling on a pair on the far side. They looked vaguely familiar, the girl unnaturally pale, the boy tall and dark. Scanning her memory, Kat bit her lip in concentration, suddenly recalling their names; not from pictures, not from acquaintance, but from Mode's own stories. Wick and Jorry.

He stumbled against Wick as she stopped suddenly in the center of the Commons, her eyes widening as she stared transfixed at a soldier near one of the far computer terminals. Confused, Jor shot her an odd glance, then turned his attention in the direction she was looking. The tall soldier with white-spiked hair was in her line of sight, but it wasn't until he did an about-face that Jor recognized him. Nathan. Dante's little fallen angel was here, a white Institute band wrapped around his arm, accompanied by a familiar girl with a matching band. She nodded discreetly in Jor and Wick's direction, and Nathan glanced up, his flat slate eyes connecting with Jor's serpentine ones.

Holy shit.

Asmodeus watched, his eyes narrowed, an unconscious satisfied smirk on his lips as Jor and Wick reacted with all the horrified shock he'd dreamed of. Then Jor was pulling Wick out of the Commons, her pale face disappearing as he dragged her into the hallway.

His reaction didn't escape her sharp notice, and neither did the red-curled girl watching them with frozen eyes from afar. Mode's old girlfriend, it seemed, wasn't entirely too pleased to see him with another. A little possessive flame lit in Kat's eyes as she flicked her gaze from Dante to Mode, then back to Dante again.

That wasn't quite the reaction she was expecting, and Dante's quicksilver eyes narrowed in response to Nathan's cold glance. He smiled viciously at her, and she returned the favor with a smirk, the self-same icy smile she'd given him when he was dragged away by the MP's his last night at Battle School.

Mode turned away, retaining his little smile by sheer force of will. "Looks like. We should leave before she embarrasses herself any more...and the view here is beginning to bore me. Let's go, Kitten." He put fingertips delicately against the small of her back and guided her into the hallway that led to the Game Arena.

Below the ice, his heart was tearing slowly.

"Lead the way, Asmodeus..."

Wick walked back from her classes and paused in the hallway, scanning the room carefully for Nathan. Only after she was certain he wasn't there did she proceed from the relative safety of the corridor and into the Commons.

She found a seat very close to some plants and took it. She was mostly obscured by foliage here. The only way to be seen was a direct line from the barracks corridor, and she doubted Nathan would be coming from that direction so soon after classes.

She tried to relax. Jor had always made her feel a little safer. He was much bigger and stronger than she was, so possessive. Not anymore.

She forced herself to focus. Trying to hack into the Charybdis mainframe had proved more difficult than she'd thought it would be. Twice the patrol worms had almost tagged her, and it took her all of her free period to finally get in.

When she did, all she managed to find before she had to terminate connection was his class schedule. If there was an unarmed combat course he hadn't taken, she didn't know what it was. She preferred tools, herself. Weapons of any description were almost always better than bare hands.

But they didn't have those here, except on the guards, and they were kept locked away at all times. Picking locks was not something Wick knew how to do. She needed someone who did, and had no way to find one. Still, maybe it couldn't hurt to survey the guard areas. If it could be shot, she could use it.

Why couldn't they have iced him?

Entering the Commons, Dante and her friends made their way over to an empty bench surrounded by plants; a nice shaded nook that might shield them from any curious eyes. Sliding onto the seat, Rox climbed next to her, sitting cross-legged and planting her desk in her lap as Nico lounged lazily on the armrest. Logging in, Rox grinned up at Nicolai, nudging Dante with her elbow as she winked at the boy.

"Casanova Nico, I heard that you got beat by a green this morning... and a chica, no less. First your girlfriend, then this new scout disses ya? We've got some work to do on you, flashboy."

"Well, after both you and Dante refused my offers, Roxy babe, my heart just hasn't been in my work." Nicolai's voice dripped syrupy sweet, while he smirked sarcastically.

Rox just laughed, still typing, delving deeper into the mainframe. "Stick with that story, Nic, stick with it. Then maybe your black-haired beauty won't beat your ass like Helen did, eh? Heyo Jélize, I'm in. Whaddya want on Nathan anyway?"

"That nickname bothers me. Asmodeus; I mean, I got the whole fallen angel reference, but... spirit of evil that accompanies wrath? If he's after me I need to know. Look up his class schedules. Find anything you can that we didn't see last night... and anything about that Kat girl too." Dante slid closer, watching as Rox hacked into the Charybdis system, scouting past the security blocks.

"Okee... holy shit. This boyo has taken every unarmed combat class they offered... shit Jéli, we're stickin' by you, ain't that right Nico?" She hugged Dante's shoulders briefly before returning her attention to the screen, and Nicolai nodded solemnly at her. "Doncha worry, we won't let him get near you, neh? Besides, I don't know what I'd do with myself if something happened to ya, sweetheart. Pine away into nothingness, I suppose."

"Find a new girlfriend, you would. Stick with Callenstrom, Nic. She's enough trouble for you without me." Dante's sardonic answer did nothing to hide her spark of fear. Nathan had had two long years of training, time to sit and scheme and plan whatever revenge he was intent on doing. Leaning her head back, Dante sighed and motioned for Rox to keep searching.

But Rox shook her head. "Ain't much left we haven't seen... some infirmary records, that's about it. No real psychological evaluations. But Kat is certainly a treasure trove of disciplinary problems... I gotta get out. Shit!" She began typing frantically, backtracking through the system, muttering to herself as Dante and Nicolai watched, eyes wide in concern.

"Out, thank God. Damn, that was close, those security trolls almost had me there this time. They obviously really don't want people in the records... but look, I managed to save the files onto my desk. I'll encrypt 'em, and send 'em to you after class, okay? We'd better get going, you have strategy and if I miss firearms again Captain Hillson is gonna have my ass."

The Angel was Angel no longer.

Asmodeus. She didn't even like thinking that name. It had a strange twisted sort of phonetic that made her shiver. If she had ever entertained far-fetched notions of Nathan not holding a grudge, his new name and what it meant would have wiped them away. As it was, in her current state, she began trembling and was forced to grip her hands together in front of her to make them stop shaking.

She couldn't wait for Jor. She had to get to that supply closet now.

Huffing quietly with irritation, Swede stalked into the Commons, Pallas following calmly behind. They wound their way toward the center, passing a few groups of soldiers, until a shouted "Swede!" caught their attention and they paused, confused, in the middle of the clearing. Swede glanced around, spotting Mik and Rox jogging over anxiously, and with a frown she nodded toward them. "Vatz goeeng on?"

Mik shot Pallas a greeting glance as Rox panted with exertion. "We've been trying to find you forever! Nathan attacked Wick and burned her, she's in the infirmary... then Dante took off after to see him or something and we haven't been able to find her! I hacked into records and they said he was arrested then released... we don't know where she is, have you seen her?"

"No, vee haveen't, vee haft been ztook in zee areena playeeng..." Swede bit her lip in concentration, turning to scan the Commons area. A flash of red caught her eye as someone skirted past through the trees, and without thinking she left the group and sprinted after the retreating figure. Dante was hurriedly storming away, but Swede called out. "Dante, vait, coomere!" Dante turned and sighed, waiting until Swede was before her. "What is it, Aria?"

"Uh, evereevunz been lookeeng for yoo, aftaire vee heard vhat Nadan deed, are yoo okee?" Dante nodded, beginning to back away to continue on her way. "I'm fine. Tell the others not to worry, I'm just gonna go back to the barracks. I'll meet you all for dinner later, I just... I just need some time alone, Nene." It was Swede's turn to nod in agreement, and she turned and made her way back to the group in the center.

"Was that Dante? What happened?" Rox nudged Swede on the arm as Mik frowned. "Yah eet vaz, zhee zayz doncha vorry, dat evereeting eez alrite. Vhy doon't vee zeet down zumvhere?" The girls followed her toward an empty table near an outcrop of trees, and sliding onto the benches, Rox leaned her elbows onto the table as Mik tried to smile at Swede. "So what have you guys been up to?"

Erik and Adam had eventually wandered out of the Game Arena after a few hours... they dragged Liex along with them and met up in the hall with Bryo and Mika as they made their way into the Commons. It was an impressively open space despite the crowd of people gathered there, and the scattered decorative vegetation gave the place a nice ambiance. Erik and Adam ambled in comfortably if strutting a little, quite confident of their number and the knowledge that the sight of Liex towering over them would be enough to intimidate anyone from pushing around the greens like they had stupidly tried to push them around when they were launchies. Bryo was striding assuredly ahead of them, bantering back and forth with Mika as they glanced around for a table.