For as much as people liked to claim that RhyDin was a city that never slept, that was a lie. In the middle of the night like this, the silence could stretch on forever. Windows were closed, doors were locked, and lights were off. The still of the night was broken by the sound of army boots feverishly crunching gravel with every quick, panicked step. Morgan?s lungs stung from overuse and the unnatural chill of the night air, but she had to keep going. There was no way she could stop now.

It wasn't even a matter of pausing to catch her breath. She could have easily moved up a fire escape or weaved her way through alleys and streets to lose them. But that was the problem; she didn't want to lose them. She needed to lure them far enough out of the WestEnd so she could finish the job on them without drawing too much attention from the general public with gunshots going off this late.

Would the people of RhyDin even care? Could anything cause the citizens of RhyDin to pause? Vampires, werewolves, ghosts, fairies, trolls, and just about everything else that went bump in the night were posted at the local bars evening after evening trying to get laid. Weird was par for the course. The zombies, on the other hand, were different. There was no changing them or teaching them the finer points of a drunken one night stand. They wanted flesh, but only if they were devouring it. And considering they had an appetite for brains, well, that wasn't going to catch many girls willing to bed up with a stranger anyway.

No matter how much people were used to, that wasn't the way of the Zombie Outbreak Response Team. Quickly and quietly were the two words that finished off every single mission plan that passed through their hands. People didn't need to know about the mess going on around them. Hell, most of them wouldn't even want to know.

She moved her eyes to the side and saw an old, abandoned house sitting off to the side. Lucky for her, maybe it was slated for demolition, because most of the windows were already boarded up. The door sat open and inviting- at least to her it was inviting. She let out a breath in a huff and then pumped her legs as quickly as she could, aiming for that door. If she could just get in there she would radio to tell them where the backup could meet her. The house would be ample enough to defend themselves from the small mob behind her.

When she was crossing the doorway she allowed herself one last look over her shoulder at the zombies quickly gaining ground behind her. There would be some place in here where she could barricade herself. Her gaze shifted back ahead as she rushed inside, but even with her heightened reaction time there was no way she could avoid what was waiting for her right past the door.

The wooden floor on the ground level of the house was absolutely destroyed. It was gutted into a wide gaping hole which made it impossible to avoid. There was no chance of putting on the brakes, she had been running too long and too hard to stop that fast.

Instead, she plummeted through the opening of the floor and did a free fall to the concrete below. She should have tucked and rolled. There were a lot of things she should have done tonight that could have made the evening more manageable. But she didn't. Her legs took the brunt of the fall, both of them giving off a sickening crunch as bones shattered on impact with the floor below.

After the impact she fell forward, body twisting awkwardly to fall on her back. She screamed, her upper body curling, the gun falling off to the side. Her vision flashed with white pain, obliterating her ability to see for a moment. She even forgot about the tide of the undead that had been trailing her in that moment of absolute agony.

When her sight cleared somewhat, she was dimly aware of the fact that she was in what appeared to be a basement. The sickly grey light of above filtered down but her senses were flayed. She tried to move her legs but they were useless, a cry of pain issuing from her lips. F*ck! Her hand started to stray to her radio, to tell them she was in need of a medic, too. But then she heard a noise that paused her hand and caught her throat, even through the haze of pain. A shuffle. The crack of something. A low, low moan.

She wasn't going to scream. That was a promise she quickly made to herself. It was inevitable that this day would come and she was determined that she wasn't going to scream. The radio was still gripped tightly in her hand, so hard that her knuckles were white. It was her last grasp on humanity, on the people back at base camp. Not that any of that could be properly processed right now. She was too busy staring at the endless zombies who seemed to be springing from the darkness like lotus flowers.

Don't scream... don't scream... don't scream.

The first zombie practically fell on her in its clumsy excitement over food, but the way his gnarled hands clawed into her torso and his gnashing teeth sank into the flesh of her collarbone were rather precise. It was impossible for Morgan to hold back. A blood curdling scream tore out of her throat which only made the other zombies that much more excited. They began to pile on top of her grabbing, biting, tearing, ripping at everything they could get their teeth and hands on.

The screams were gurgling and they would continue on without pause until she ran out of breath. A ragged inhale and she was back to screaming. It just barely drowned out the sound of tearing flesh, breaking bones, ripping innards, and spilled blood.

The scene below in the basement of the abandoned house had gotten no better with the passing of time. The blood curdling screams had faded off into silence. The only sounds were the enthusiastic moans and groans of zombies getting their fill of flesh. They were swarming over Morgan's body like sharks devouring freshly poured chum. Or what was left of it at least. There was a discarded leg sticking out of the pile which was much too far to still be attached. Not that it would have been of much use since it was stripped of skin down to the shattered bone. As was a stray hand and a twisted arm. Morgan's face, streaked with blood and missing chunks of skin, could be seen somewhat in the mass. Eyes were wide and dull, void of life, lips frozen open in permanent shock.

Elijah?s careful steps to the edge of the rotted and collapsed floor brought the view of Morgan- or what was left of her. His heart sank at the brutality beneath. "F*ck," he swore, the edge raw with the beginnings of roughness, of too little sleep and now this horror. Morgan hadn't been there long, but it didn't mean people didn't get attached. He watched for a moment, just a moment.

The shoulder that his radio rested on raised a bit, his free hand moving up to depress the button. "Elijah, District 1, to base camp. Negate any further back up. District 2 Captain down. Morgan Sills DOA. Ground secured. Clean up commencing. Over." He let the button go and ignored anything that would come through. He brought the gun up and aimed, and it wasn't a moment later before bullets were raining again, little drops of iron and fire and hate to destroy those that had destroyed her.

When the last had fallen, the gun was lowered. An expert eye to make sure everyone that was down would remain that way. When it was silent, he spared one last look for Morgan and those staring, sightless eyes. Another casualty in this all this madness. Booted feet turned and went for the door, heart hardened against what he'd seen, otherwise it would overwhelm. He needed to get back to base camp, to start the efforts to get her body retrieved.

The work was never done.

She had still been steadily staring at the cellphone screen until something else seemed to grab at her attention. Her head lifted, the mess of blonde locks that spent far too long in a helmet splayed across her face, and glanced about. After some scanning, pale blue eyes stopped on Elijah. A flicker down towards her cellphone screen then back up to him. "You're the one I'm looking for tonight." As brutish as her style of dress might have come off and the smiling skull helmet beside her, that voice was all female. Soft and supple with just a bit of unintentional playfulness trapped within the words. It could have easily made the statement sound like a pick up line.

And so they did, in a way. He considered her a moment. "I'm sorry, I'm on business." Polite, but firm. She really was beautiful, but Elijah knew how to separate work and play. The week had been hard, too, and he didn't feel very much like catering to playfulness.

The faintest crease to her brows made her entire expression look absolutely puzzled by his statement. She looked down at her cellphone again, then back up to him. "I am, too, Elijah Hargrave." She turned the phone out towards him so he could look at the screen with a picture of him staring straight ahead. "I was told I was to meet you here so we can begin on orientation. I'm Alexandria Gottschalk. They should have told you about me."

He blinked, and then he chuckled. Not at her, but at himself. He shook his head a bit and stood, moving closer and offering his hand. "You'll have to forgive me. It's been a long week. I was expecting an 'Alex', and assumed it would be a man. I'm terribly sorry."

The pucker of her brows smoothed and a smile settled on thick lips. She eased her hand into his for a firm handshake. "I understand completely. Situations like this are never easy, no matter how much we attempt to train for them. I go by either, Alexandria or Alex. It seems that the people who push the paper work tend to handle the shortened version a little bit easier. Or they simply enjoy making my life as awkward as possible when meeting new people."

He shook her hand for a moment before releasing it. "It's usually my goal to cut down on the awkwardness in orientation, but it seems I added to it." He offered a genuine smile then. "Do you prefer one name over the other?"

"Honestly, I'll get over it. And after everything I've heard about this city? If that's the weirdest thing to happen during my orientation then I'll consider myself lucky" When she was released she fell into a stance with her hands lingering behind her back in some loose version of at ease. To some it might seem uncomfortable, but for her it looked like second nature. "If I get to choose? I prefer Alexandria."

His hesitation drew her gaze back up to his face. A smile curled across her lips. "I like to view it as problem solving on a small scale and a large scale. I've been trained as a sniper, for when you have a few dead heads that need to be taken out quick and easy. On the other end, I do have the experience and affinity for creating customized explosives to fit all needs. When there is demand for something a little more... all-encompassing destruction." When speaking of the explosives her smile had grown and she spoke like she was telling stories of an old friend.

He could respect that, he really could. "We have one Captain who is extremely good with heavy artillery and firearms, but your skill is more specialized. It's going to be useful." He shifted a bit on the stool. "Did your briefing include any information about RhyDin or our base of operations here?"

"Useful. That's what I aim for." A hand reached up to shove her fingers through her hair, just now making the effort to tame it some. "Will it bother you if I smoke? And... well, they told me the facility contains the same components as any others. A captain for each district, seven in the case of RhyDin. It also has a handler, a priest, a psychologist, and a medic. Standard protocol. They didn't brief me on any of the member?s names or details. About the city in general... they informed me about the various species living here. Or at many as that could in such a short amount of time. I'm... still a little unsure about all of that. They said it was a lot different from New York, but since I was from Detroit the absurdity of it all might make me feel a little at home." She lifted blue eyes thoughtfully. "Pretty sure she was taking a jab at me."

"When they're presenting this place, it'd be hard to tell if it was a jab or not. Anything she told you about the species here is undoubtedly correct. Elves next to dragons next to fairies and more. It takes a bit to get used to, but otherwise it's just like any other town. The zombie problem isn't flaunted here, but it's not a secret, either. We do well thus far of keeping it controlled. There are casualties, as you're aware of, but that is the nature of the business." He didn't mean for it to come across as unfeeling, but a stone face was better than some weepy alternative. "As far as the facility, yes, it's like any other. The offices and other specialty rooms, like the training room and the gym, are also located within it, but there are also apartments for each Captain. Yours is already furnished and ready for you, although you are free to liven it up. They're a bit bland. As for the Captains, you are correct." He moved to the file and started to shift papers, bringing out a map of the city that had been divided into portions. "Seven districts. One through seven as follows- WestEnd 1 and 2, Dockside 1 and 2, Marketplace, Stars End and New Haven. You'll be covering District 2, WestEnd 2."

He'd checked her out when she'd come in. It was fair, although she was slick enough for him not to notice her subtle appraisal. "Thank you." He took the pack and withdrew a cigarette. Settling it on his lips, he reached into a pocket of his jacket and brought a black lighter up, lighting the cig and then shoving it back into the pocket. He took a drag and left it waft out of his mouth, dragon-like, before continuing. "If you think it looks like a ghost town out here, wait til you see the city proper. Stars End is usually heavily jammed, what with everyone coming and going." He shifted a bit, turning blue eyes to her. "The town is generally safe to walk at night, but it's standard issue here to carry a weapon at all times. It doesn't have to be a gun, but it has to be something. Always."

"Don't mention it." She glanced around to find a nearby ashtray and slid it around the bar to linger between them. Her cigarette was ashed with a nod. "You don't have to tell me twice. I've been carrying since I was legally able to and I haven't stopped since. I would rather have an unused gun on hand than the need for one and be without. Though, that's been my mentality even before joining the Z.C.E.S.." Another drag was taken from her cigarette. "Where are you from?" Yes, it was her orientation. She was the one that was supposed to be giving him information and intel on the newest member to the team, but the question kept prodding at the back of her mind and she decided to ask.

He didn't seem to mind. No displeased look crossed his features, indeed he looked, in a way, pleased with the question. It showed she was interested in knowing where her new team came from. More knowledge was always important to him, it was encouraging to see someone else who asked questions. "Portland, Oregon."

Alexandria offered a nod to his reply. "I can't say I've ever been. I've been sent out on missions in various states, but they mostly kept me East coast considering you all had the West coast on lock. Not that I wouldn't have enjoyed heading out West now and then. Work on my tan." Her smile was a little dry, but it was still there. "What's your specialty?" They all had specialties; they all had things they excelled in. You spend enough years finding out what people were good at on the field and you quickly learn that it often spoke volumes about the person in question.

Smoke wafted aimlessly from her nostrils before she came back to the conversation at hand and lifted blue eyes back up to him. "I'm absolutely inclined. I enjoy learning from others. I understand how our specialties can create an eclectic team, but it doesn't hurt to overlap here and there." Business so easily mingled with casual. "What are their names?"

It certainly was in her file, and he would get to that. It was something that had to be touched on, so that she knew they were aware. Not that he would judge her for it. People did stupid things when they were kids, and a firebug had a recognized disorder. It was something real, and it happened, but it didn't make you a bad person. She clearly hadn't let it consume her. "Loki and Junie."

"Loki, like the trickster?" Once again, the things that people did told you so much more about them than what they might say themselves. Not that she would always want that line of thought applied to herself, but she was more than happy to use it with others. "And, well, I don't know anything about the meaning of Junie. But it is a sweet name." Another drag was taken from the cigarette as she settled into the more laid back side of the conversation. Maybe it was nicer having orientation in a bar rather than a stuffy room with two way mirrors. It was easily the most open she had felt during one.

And as for him, he felt rather at ease, too. Normally he was so focused on getting them the information they needed to survive, and they so focused on trying to appear competent before him. It was a nice change, doubly so after what had happened to Morgan. "Yes, the trickster god from Norse mythology. He's a little shit sometimes." He chuckled, ashing again and taking another pull before continuing. "Junie's name is June, but I'm sentimental, I guess. She's named after my little sister."

There were a lot of things she wanted to say in reply to that. That it was okay he brought it up. That she was willing to lend an ear if he ever wanted to talk about it. That she didn't care if it didn't apply to her training, but she was more than willing to listen. That the situation was done and couldn't be helped, but he could be. But it all seemed like too much for someone she had just met, a co-worker no less. "Don't worry about it." They weren't in this bar for drinks and small talk. It was business and their strength meant the safety of others. "Yeah, the base, that's for the best. If you have further questions about anything, don't hesitate in asking." She stubbed her cigarette out into the ashtray and eased herself off of her stool. The motorcycle helmet with the grinning skull on it was picked up and tucked beneath her arm. "They gave me the location of the base along with this address. I have my bike outside and can meet you there."

"Sounds like a plan." He hesitated, looking at her a moment. Even the small bit of conversation served to color her face, make her more of a 'person' and not just a stranger. An Alexandria, not an unknown Alex. "I'll meet you there." And before he could say anything else, he turned and headed out, pausing only to hold the door open for her.

Throughout her military career she was used to people scrutinizing her. People looking over her uniform, her posture, trying to find anything out of place. She was used to people screaming orders in her face and staring straight ahead the entire time without batting a lash. But it was his hesitation and his quiet look that made her pause in place. The look was returned, large eyes unintentionally making her seem like a deer in headlights. Everything had stopped, then the world continued spinning after he spoke. She nodded once. "Absolutely." That was it. No warm words of departure. She followed along after him, already working to put her helmet back in place before walking out the door held door.

He said nothing in return, just let the door slip from his fingertips and started to the base truck he'd borrowed. He was working, after all, no matter what it had seemed like to others. Or to himself.

Her lips were pressed together and thinned, making the mental note that maybe jokes were more reserved for a bar setting? Or perhaps out of friendliness to help someone calm down in a brand new setting before settling back in to business as usual? She was used to things being cut and dry throughout her career and especially in the Z.C.E.S., but it didn't stop her from feeling a tinge of disappointment. Without another word she was following along behind him to the building then through the opened door with a quick mumbled 'thank you'.

It didn't occur to him that she'd care one way or the other how he acted. It should have, being in 'charge' of new recruits. He just didn't have it in him tonight. He let the door close behind them. They were in a tiled entrance 'room', of sorts. It was small and there was nothing there except for another door. It was made of bullet proof glass, and there was a lock mechanism with a keypad. He led the way, pausing before it. "The front door always remains unlocked, in case there is an emergency. This door is always locked and the code is changed every three months. Right now it's 1875. I'll let you try, alright?" Not that it was hard, but it was good to let people do things on their own, to get the feel for it. Now that they were out of the bar and it wasn't as loud, he had a voice that wasn't quiet, but sedate, deeper, with a certain resonance. Not an accent, but almost a thrum of internal strength that could be heard in the cadence of his voice.

It was all very basic, but she nodded along with his explanation. At the correct parts she would look to the door behind them, then to the door in front of them. She knew well enough that no details were ever too small or anything should be ignored. Not if it was being explained to you. He could have gone into the details of the door, when it was built, by whom, how they were feeling on the day, and she would have listened intently. Any small bits of information were taken and properly filed away. At his prompting she moved towards the door shifting her helmet from one hand to another. "1-8-7-5." The numbers were pressed as she spoke them, low yet strong, and the door was pulled opened. "Who picks the numbers?" Another one of her stray questions she couldn't quite help that tumbled forth while she held the door open for him.

Alexandria continued to nod quietly at his explanation. It was straight forward and to the point, she accepted it for what it was. But at his smile and shift in conversation, talking about giving the handler a hard time, she was chuckling quietly. "Duly noted. Besides, it's not in my best interest to get on her bad side." You would think there would be a common sense reason for not getting under the skin of the Handler around base camp, but she quickly proved hers was far from it. "I still need to find out why she picked 1875." A Cheshire smile and she was stepping through the held door.

A chuckle there, looking at her with a small smile. "Oh, of course, right. The mystery of the number is enough to keep us all in line." The door opened into a long hallway. Light colored but not wallpapered, just painted. There were a number of doors here, all of them closed. There was nothing on any of them, save one, that had a small flag of Norway tacked to it.

"I've kept myself contained over lesser things." Pale blue eyes were automatically sweeping the bland walls and doors of the hallway. Elijah closed the door behind them and continued forward to lead her towards the opening at the end of this proverbial tunnel. "And I can't say this much surprises me. Standard issue... well... everything." She wasn't trying to sound snarky about her new home, but it is what it is. She had gotten mighty used to army drab greens and various shades of tan during her time in the military as well as with the Zombie Control and Extermination Team. The pair continued down the hallway and when they stepped out into the common area, well, Alexandria was quickly eating her words.

It was all warm and lush browns, burgundies, and deep cherry colored wood. The obvious focal point of the room was a wall made up entirely of bookshelves that held various tomes as well as aged knick-knacks and had a large flat screen television set right in the middle of it. That was surrounded by a couch and a few scattered chairs, each one looking more comfortable than the last. The lighting was surprising soft and inviting compared to the usual fluorescent bulbs she was used to. This was far from anything she has been expecting to walk into and that was made clear by her simple reaction. "Holy sh*t."

Once the initial shock of the room had worn off on Alexandria, she was able to piece together that they weren?t alone. Vibrant blue eyes were steadily taking in each person, how they looked, how they held themselves. Forming her little notions about what each of them were like before they could say a word. It wasn?t done out of ill will, but it was simply a habit of hers. A game of sorts, to see how accurate she could be. But it all went out the window when she felt that mass of Elijah?s large hand placed faintly onto her back. It took a moment and a brief odd shuffle before she found her footing again as well as a breath of air.

Alexandria?s casual smile eased back into place, but before a word of greeting could be uttered the man from the couch was calling out. ?Elijah, you kept telling us you were picking up an Alex. That you were going to meet *him* at the bar. Were you hoping if we didn?t realize the new district two was a girl that you could keep her all to yourself?? The beautiful blonde woman beside him wasted no time in deeply rolling her eyes and sending a swift pointed elbow into the man?s side. He grunted in response, but not even that could wipe the large grin from his face. ?What, Freyja? It?s called sharing and it?s what teammates do.?

Through all of Victor's wise a*s comments, Alexandria managed to keep her expression straight with only a little of that friendliness lingering. She let Elijah explain the confusion away, but Victor continued on. Yeah, he looked like trouble. She mentally scored herself one point for a correct assumption then turned her gaze onto Freyja with the smile returning to full bloom. "You don't have to worry about me being frightened off by him, I assure you. He seems like the type where his bark is much more than his bite." She would keep the additional comments of yapping for attention and leg humping to herself since he was a co-worker now. "But it's a pleasure to meet you, Freyja." Her gaze shifted aside to Victor and a nod followed. "Victor."

Victor gave a mock gasp, a hand placed over his chest. "Ouch, Alex, I'm wounded." He could have gone further, offering to show her just what sort of bite he had. But with the way that Elijah was glowering at him he decided to quit while the getting was good. At least for now. "Pleasure." Unfortunately, he was unable to say the word without a suggestive lift of his brow. It was habit, honestly.

Unfortunately, it really was habit. Elijah's hand touched her back gently again, a silent directive to move forward. He figured Alex would know that she could meet them more in depth at a later point. He led her into the kitchen, where the man with the knife set it down to look at them with a smile, the woman doing the same, turning the faucet off and reaching to dry her hands on a towel.

Pale blue eyes were then on Augustine when he moved forward. Alexandria offered her hand for a shake. "And you're Augustine." Then he was kissing her hand. "And those are your lips on my knuckles." She tried to keep the surprise out of her tone, but she failed the moment the words left her lips. When he pulled back she let her hand dangle in place, obviously not quite sure what to do with it from there. "Everyone is so... friendly." She said while still staring at Augustine.

Augustine smiled. "Oui, mademoiselle. But it does not do to be rude to our new arrivals, eh?" A quirk of his lips, making the scar on his left cheek rise like a dimple. If there was a blazing neon sign above him, it'd have a giant arrow pointing downward with the lettering, "CHARMING." He leaned forward conspiratorially. "Please do not be put off by my actions. I am not uncouth like Victor? but nor am I the strong, silent type as our handsome Elijah is, no?"

Given any longer and Alexandria would have stayed frozen in that deer and headlights stance a lot longer than she would have preferred. She could have easily handled a Team who was quiet, slightly withdrawn, maybe even a little judgmental who would want her to prove herself to them before they welcomed her into the fold. That was practically customary. But this was something else all together. Was she supposed to agree that Elijah was handsome? Was it a trick question? Victor was uncouth, maybe it best to focus on that.

"I heard that!" The thick Australian accent from the uncouth man in question sitting in the living room sounded a little like saving grace.

Freyja on the other hand was walking up beside Augustine to place a hand on his shoulder. "Now, now. It's no fair to use so much of your allure on her all at once, Augustine. You know how easily mesmerized people can become with your accent when not given the proper amount of time to adjust." Freyja offered a soft, quiet smile which was returned by Alex with her own thankful one.

Augustine smiled over at Lilavati, his shoulders raising in a bit of a helpless shrug, fingers splayed. "I speak the truth, no?" His eyes turned to Elijah. "The petite mademoiselle finds you attractive, do you not think?"

Elijah fixed him with a raised brow look that said he was treading a line. "What will not be attractive is my boot in your a*s in a minute, Augustine." It was said gruffly, but he didn't mean it. Did he?

Augustine chuckled. "Very well, very well." And turned back to his vegetable cutting.

It was a young woman. Of slightly below average height and a rail thin physique, she was attractive in a gritty sort of way. Full lips but dark eyes that had seen too much, dark hair raked backward that probably needed a wash. She wore a pair of black pants and hanging white tank, steel toed boots and a leather jacket over it. She eyed Alex not with appraisal, anger or glare, but with a resigned sort of duty.

Elijah gestured. "And here's the last of the team. Ghislaine Arceneaux, minor necromancy and street fighting." He'd of called it hand-to-hand, but that didn't quite get the essence across. "Captain of District 3, Dockside 1."

Some might have written Ghi off at first glance considering how small she was, but the smile that Alex offered to her was beyond genuine. Necromancy was a skill that she had heard of used before in their cause, so that didn't make her pause. But it was the use of the words 'street fighting' instead of anything else. She looked aside to Elijah on that. It was one of those little quirks and interesting bits of information that she so loved to gather. Pale blues were back on Ghi. "It's really nice to meet you, Ghislaine." Her head tilted, eyes slowly looking the girl over from head to toe. In Alex's opinion, they seemed to be the most alike off the bat. Either they were to become the best of friends, or they would butt heads every step of the way.

She offered a smile, and it was genuine, too, just short lived. "You, too. Jus' git here?" It was a drawling twang, Cajun to its core.

"Mhm, just rode in not too long ago." She lifted her hand showing off the grinning skull helmet she was still gripping. "Just meeting the team before turning in for the night. Looking to get the lay of the land bright and early tomorrow."

Alex nodded and started to head back towards the hallway, only pausing briefly when Freyja spoke up. When Elijah was in front of her again she continued on behind him and came to a stop near the door. A hand reached out to twist the knob and allow the door to swing open. The apartment itself was nothing like the commons area they had just come from. Everything was a bland tan color, from the ceilings to the carpets. The furniture was all made of cheap looking pale wood. It was sterile and, despite the washed out colors, just a little dark even with the addition of the light switch she had flicked near the door. "Now this? This is what I was expecting." Not that she minded. It was all part of the life.

Her gaze shifted back to Elijah, a thick bottom lip briefly captured between her teeth before she could figure out what she wanted to say. "Thank you for everything tonight. You made an uncomfortable situation not so horrific. You've all helped make me feel welcome here and that means a lot."

He nodded to her words. "Of course. The team is worthless if we can't get along and function together. Getting you acquainted and situated was my job." Perhaps he realized that sounded almost harsh, because in the next moment he was offering her a smile, and it was soft, maybe a little tired. "I'm glad we made it easier on you. It can be hard to get used to RhyDin. Get some sleep, and tomorrow I'll show you around."

It had been an overwhelming day, to say the least. But really? When your sole purpose in life revolved around killing zombies and trying to keep order while the living dead walked, well, you sorta got used to that feeling of just barely keeping your head above water. Everyone Alexandria had known fighting for the cause reacted to it differently and had their own ways of dealing with it. Whatever made someone feel better? A little more sane? Well, you didn't question it. Anything they could do to retain their sanity was welcome for the most part.

Alexandria reacted by being unable to sleep. It wasn't because she was in a new city with a new team, laying in a new bed in a new apartment. A change in scenery never got to her. It was simply the way she was. Sleep was never something that came easily to her. Despite how much she kept talking about how tired she was, she could only pass out for about an hour or so before laying wide awake and staring up at the ceiling. She would try to allow herself to fall back asleep naturally, but that only lasted so long. Finally, she would resort to plan B.

She slipped out from beneath the covers, bare feet touching down on tan carpet. She pondered briefly just how much effort she was going to have to put into this recon mission, but deciding that everyone was either out for drinks or sleeping she settled on a resounding 'not much'. Navy blue yoga shorts had been topped off by a plain black sports bra, but to make herself a little more appropriate she tossed a grey crew neck sweater on that hung off her shoulder. A silver flask was tugged from her backpack and then she was sliding out of her apartment and down the hall towards the kitchen.

It was interesting maneuvering around the new layout, but thankfully someone had left a small faint lamp on in the dining room past the kitchen which gave just enough light to lead her towards the fridge. The door was tugged open and the serious searching began. "Please tell me these people keep orange juice on hand." The words were barely mumbled above a whisper as she looked.

Pale blue eyes dragged over him briefly. Always one to take in details, it was times like these when she silently enjoyed the habit. It was when her gaze settled back on his when she allowed a faint smile to come forth. "You apologize a lot. Do I have to keep reminding you that I'm not easily offended?" She lingered within the opening of the doorway, rolling briefly to the balls of her feet while deciding whether she should stay or go. Finally, one step brought her further inside. "Do you mind if you join you for a little? Unless I'll be interrupting your book, then I can go elsewhere."

Book? what? Her shorts were small and the delicate arch of one lovely shoulder was bare. No longer 'on the clock', there was no way he could have avoided noticing. He was quiet for just a moment before speaking. "No. No, come on in." He rose halfway to grasp the back of a chair near his, pulling it out for her.

She nodded faintly and moved forward, only a little bit of hesitation before she sank into the offered chair. "Thank you." Her mug, orange juice, and flask were all carefully set on the table before her. "I didn't expect anyone else to be up." She was paying a lot of attention to that orange juice container now and pouring some into the mug. It kept her wandering eyes busy. "Can't sleep?"

He shook his head, then realized she wasn't looking at him. "Sometimes I- is that a flask?"

She paused, blue eyes trailing back over to him once again. "I'm never sure what sort of.. accommodations people are going to have. So I've gotten into the habit of bringing my own." The flask was lifted. It was a brushed silver thing that had obviously seen better days. Scrawled across the front were the barely visible letters, RDG, worn off by time. "Should I get another mug? I'm capable of sharing."

He considered that a moment, considered her. His eyes moved over to the tea in his mug, but it'd gone cold by that point. Back to her. "I can get it. I'd love some." He stood to go retrieve a clean mug, taking the used one with him. It wasn't until he was halfway out of the room that he thought idly that if he'd let her get the mug, he could have had a view of her from the back. He frowned. What was wrong with him?

"Imagine, if you will, that none of them can hear you right now so there is no need to worry about jealousy amongst them." She took another sip of her drink, allowing that little bit of charm to sink in on him before continuing. "Which is your favorite?"

He blinked a bit, surprised and impressed at the comment, at what it hinted, that she was observant. Points were scored. "That's a difficult question. Mostly likely the one that runs down my side and back, and part of my chest." She wouldn't be able to see the whole thing, but some of it showed. A bit above the collar of the wife beater, and down one arm.

The hint of surprise was noted, but she didn't let it get to her. It was an expression she was more than used to seeing. "I like asking the hard questions." Was that a warning? Possibly, but at least she smiled through it. She tilted her head, turning her gaze onto what she could see of the mentioned tattoo. "Does it hold any particular meaning behind it?"

"They were in an old book I found. From a civilization that pre-dated the Vikings. They're based on wall carvings. They're said to bring strength and protection."

"Now that?" She gestured at him with her mug. "That's an interesting reason to get a tattoo. And they seem to be helping considering you look..." She paused. Where had she been going with this statement? Whatever it was, she seemed to backtrack and realign herself on a much safer route. "Strong. And protected." She lifted the mug to her lips, more for something to do since she didn't automatically drink.

His smile bloomed a touch wider. "Strong, and protected? Mmmm. It must be working." He took a drink himself, watching her now.

He was a little surprised at the request, but the 'please' had him at her mercy. He must be tired. "I speak German." An easy one, to start with.

She perked in her seat from her content curl and leaned forward. "Do you?" Genuine excitement in her voice, she had to work extra hard to keep her volume at a suitable level for the hour. "I understand it better than I speak it, to be honest. My Dad could speak it well, my Mother was alright. She learned from him. He was so stubborn about me wanting to learn that sometimes he refused to talk to me in anything but German for a night just hoping it would finally click and I would become fluent."

He smiled, leaning forward a bit himself. "Say something to me."

She wrinkled her nose, the action baring her teeth slightly through her smile. "You're putting me on the spot." Not that she would tell him no. Her gaze lifted briefly in thought before it struck her. "Oh, this was one I used all the time back home." She looked at him sternly. "Nein, ich will nicht zu Wheel of Fortune zu sehen."

He laughed again, a little louder. It was rich, coming from somewhere in his chest. "That's all you need to know, right?"

"My Dad loved Wheel of Fortune. On the nights when he was trying to be stern with me and only speak German he would wave the slightest white flag by saying 'Komm, Lexi. Kommen Sie sehen Fortune mit mir'." She was smiling fondly now as the memory and she folded her hands on the table in front of her. "What about your family? What of them?" She remembered his mention of his sister, but the details were so few. Now she really was curious. Not out of her usual need to know everything, but because it filled in a little more of the puzzle that was Elijah.

He chuckled at the story. "He sounds like my grandfather, except he'd be yelling in what he said was Irish, but it wasn't. It was just drunk, because we're not Irish at all." He quieted then, considering her. "What would you like to know?" It was easier to ask that for him, instead of just launching into something.

"Now I have to wonder how much of my Dad's so called German was made up." But his expression got somewhat more serious and her's did as well in return. Did she want to beat around the bush or did she want to be honest? "Tell me about your sister? You mentioned her earlier."

Her hand stayed in place while he looked at it, but when his gaze lifted back up to her face she suddenly became aware just how personal that small gesture was. She slowly pulled the hand back so it settled on the table not too far off. It seemed safer there. "I know what you're saying. I mean, it's not like any of us are really in it for the health benefits or to get pats on the back. It's cut and dry. See a zombie? Kill it. Maybe that's a big part of the appeal? There aren't a lot of things in life that are guaranteed. It's... nice... in a really messed up way to at least have one." Pale blues sank back down to the table in front of her. "I'm no good at this, Elijah. I never know the right thing to say and it's pointless to even pretend I'll say something you haven't heard throughout the years from others, but... I really am sorry."

He smiled at her. "Don't apologize, Alexandria. It's ok, really. I've made my peace with it as much as I can. You did fine. It helps to have an ear, to verbalize it to someone sometimes." He suddenly looked embarrassed, though. Of himself. "I'm sorry I went on a tangent there." A little gruffly, hiding his mouth in the mug.

"Well, listening I'm exceptionally good at. So, if you ever want to verbalize to someone, I can do that." A faint smirk was returned at his apology. "I'm going to set up an apology jar for you and make you give me a quarter everytime you say you're sorry to me for no good reason." She leveled her gaze on him. "You're fine, Elijah. Nothing to apologize for." She lifted her own mug for another long sip.

"It's a habit," he said, with a slight smile. "I don't like talking about myself." CLEARLY, Elijah.

"But I'm the one who asked you to, so no need to apologize." There was a brief gnaw to her bottom lip in thought, trying to think of a way to shift the conversation to something he would be more comfortable and less apologetic about. "Say something to me in German." She almost forgot her manners again. "Please?"

Brows rose slightly in surprise. She should have looked down at the book when she went to set her hand on it, but she couldn't find it in herself to break her gaze from his. The hand came down onto the cover to accept the book, but she realized that her fingertips were brushing against his because of the action. It would be rude to pull her hand back, it wasn't needed. So the hand sat, not quite ready to draw the book back from him. "Are you sure, Elijah? I wasn't looking to interrupt your reading."

"You're not. When I can't sleep, I read." He pushed it slightly more forward, toward her. His fingers brushed hers more closely, and he didn't pull back, either. "Maybe now I'll have someone to talk to when I can't sleep."

"I have a lot of nights like this, not being able to sleep." It almost sounded like a promise.

"Do you think you could sleep now?" Asked a little more quietly. "We have a lot to do tomorrow..."

There was the faintest sound from her throat, a soft swallow at his question. Then she was nodding and carefully sliding the book the rest of the way between them and fully into her grasp. "You know? I should probably at least give it a try. It is going to be a long day tomorrow and..." She was talking too much. Lips were forced closed long enough to settle her tongue. When she spoke again, her volume matched his. "Yeah, I'm going to head to bed."

He nodded, still watching her. "Alright." He drew back, reluctantly, to settle back down, his arm moving across the table and back to its own space.

Elijah had warned her it was going to be a long day. Even when she woke up bright and early that morning she knew she was going to need a lot to keep her going for the packed schedule that lay ahead of her.

She only had time to grab herself a large travel mug full of black coffee before her and Elijah were setting off on the town. He gave her the full tour, from one side of the city to the other. They even delved into the other various districts around town to make sure she had a full handle on her surroundings no matter where she was at.

After the tour, during which she grabbed lots more coffee and even a stray sandwich that Elijah practically forced on her, it was straight into patrol of District 2 to put her brand new knowledge to test. Thankfully, it had been a relatively calm night without much action. Alexandria was never one to shy away from a fight, but even she could appreciate a boring evening now and then.

With patrol over she made her way back to base camp and straight into a shower. She was determined to go straight to bed to get a full night of sleep. But these were promises she made herself often and never followed through on. Lilavati had been kind enough to ask if she wanted to join in on another night of drinking amongst the team, but she had been nice enough to understand when Alex politely declined.

She was left in limbo. No urge to go out. No longer tired enough to sleep. So, she decided to enjoy the peace of the evening and take full advantage of the big screen TV in the commons area. A comfortable pair of shorts were pulled on paired with a threadbare black tee that read "DROP DEAD YUPPIE SCUM" in big faded white letters.

A few short moments later she was sitting cross legged in the middle of the couch watching Moulin Rouge. One of her absolute favorite movies, no matter how much crap people gave her for it.

Oh, and the crap may very well continue. Elijah had likewise refused their invite. It had been refreshingly easy to show Alexandria where things were. She was a quick study, bright and she paid attention. No wandering attentions to try and corral, just plain training.

He was finding, even in that small amount of time, that he enjoyed her company. Not that he didn't normally enjoy others, but she was a change. The others were jaded, to a certain extent, or their humor was more ribald than anything. She seemed to genuinely just be in a good mood most times.

It was an interesting juxtaposition to his (some would say) dark disposition. Back at base, he'd grabbed a shower as well, and was just making his way down the hall from his apartment. A pair of basketball-style shorts, black and hitting at the knees on his tall frame, a similarly old shirt like hers, his with a stylized skull that read, "Conquer Death". Hair still damp, he dragged fingers through it as he made his way into the commons.

Although the movie's volume wasn't all that hushed and there seemed to be a musical number taking place, footsteps instantly caused her head to swivel and peer over her shoulder with a blink. There was a faint curse beneath her breath before she was lifting the remote and aiming it at the television to pause the movie. "I'm sorry if that was too loud. I figured you had gone out with everyone else and that I had the place to myself for the most part. I suppose I should have checked better."

He smiled at her. That was getting easier, at least, the upward tilt of lips. "It's fine, I'm the only one left." He came to a pause a few feet from the back of the couch, looking at her before blue eyes traveled over to the TV. He couldn't help it, how the smile turned to juuust this side of smirky. "What are you watching?"

At his smile she offered one of her own in return. She knew they were scarce from what she had seen, so it seemed to be an involuntary pleased reaction that overtook her everytime she saw one. "How long do they let you skip out on drinking nights before they absolutely force you to come along? I've missed two of two since I've been here and I figure they might start using stronger tactics pretty quick here." His question, along with that faint smirk, made her tip her head with an added playfulness. "Oh, I'm sorry. Do you not know about the greatest movie in the world, Moulin Rouge? I'm so sorry to hear that, because you are missing out on magic bottled and pressed straight to disc." Yes, it was over the top, but it was Moulin Rouge she was defending. Of course it was going to be a little absurd.

"And, I think I had better go to the next outing, or I might get flayed." He chuckled, then, at her very thorough defense of the movie. "Seriously? Moulin Rouge?" He moved closer.

"Is that what I have to look forward to if I decline again? Hmm, drinking a beer on a barstool or being skinned alive." Hands lifted, one still clutching the remote, and she weighed them back and forth along with her options. But before she could decide she scoffed again. "Yes, I'm serious. What isn't there to be serious about?" She turned to look at the screen. "It has good music, a good story, it's all very sweet." Pale blue eyes shifted to him again. "Have you ever seen it?"

"No," he chuckled. "Not all of it, anyway. Too much? singing and dancing for me." Because clearly he did not like joy.

"Ah, but you did attempt to watch it, so part of you has taste." She looked back to the paused television screen and pat the couch beside her in invitation. "It's at the best part anyway. It's that one song. Voulez vous coucher avec moi ce soir, or whatever." A large gesture at the screen. "I mean, come on, at one point they're going to be cutting in with some Nirvana. What is not to love?"

"I guess I can get the Nirvana part to slide," he said with a small grin, moving to sit down beside her, draping one arm comfortably along the back of the couch. "Victor would like this, there's whores in it."

Once he sat down she pressed play on the remote again, a flash of bright costumes and music coming to life on screen. It was an easy distraction and something to focus on other than his arm behind her which she was all too aware of for her own tastes. "Remind me to hide my copy then. I have a feeling he would give it back to me... used." Her nose was wrinkled with a chuckle. Her thumb pressed the volume button to lower it a few notches so it was easier to speak over the music. "I like watching movies to unwind. It gives me something to focus on outside of my own life." She cast a look aside to him. "What do you like?"

"A superhero movie?" That had her grinning. Like she had any room to talk with what was playing on TV. "I will say, I might have seen that one and the actual Iron Man guy wasn't so bad. He was funny. Never was a fan of Superman or anything like that though when it came to superheros." Her hand was lifted, the back of it pressed over her lips to muffle a brief yawn.

"It wasn't so bad. I don't like Superman much, either. What exactly was so super?" He tilted his head, watching her now. "Tired?"

She gestured at him. "Thank you! I've seen countless men and women in my days do a whole lot more with a whole lot less. He was practically invincible and yet he could barely accomplish anything aside from saving one girl over and over again?" Rolls her eyes. "That had better been the best tail at the Daily Planet or I'm calling overrated." She shook her head slightly, returning his look. "No, just winding down. If I was to try to sleep now I would be staring at the ceiling for a few more hours. What about you? Your day has been just as long as mine."

A small shrug of shoulders. "I think maybe I'm always a little bit tired." He leaned in a bit. "And it had better be some extremely good tail, because she sure does seem to have a propensity for getting kidnapped. And by a dude who can be defeated with a glowing rock."

Her expression become somewhat appraising yet playful. "I wonder what you would be like on a full night of healthy sleep. Probably bouncing off all the walls." A grin and she countered his lean. "Okay, you're reading my mind. He can get shot without batting a lash and has microwave vision, but a green stone the size of a pea?" She pat her hand against the couch cushion between them. "One, two, three. Count him out. He's done."

"He should be called something more along the lines of? Mediocre Man." He considered that. It didn't sound complete, so he added, "With some special abilities that no one really wants. I have a microwave, my burritos will do fine there. I don't need eyes that fry." As if he'd ever want to be Superman.

More snickering. "He was always too clean cut for my taste as well. Lois had to be a prude if she was into it." She was back to watching him. Not an invasive stare, but it was clear her full attention was on him. "What superhero do you like?" A finger was pressed to her lips. "I have a guess, but I want to see if I'm right."

"Oh, you do, do you?" He thought for a moment, then cracked a grin again. "Darkwing Duck." Full of sh*t, but he wondered if he'd get another smile from her.

"I think he would look to us for pointers on how to be so lethal yet fun at the same time. I mean, look at us, we're not brooding or anything." Not now they weren't. "He should take notes." Her lips were then thinned, trying so hard to suppress a grin and failing. "I like movies that make me happy for a while. I don't like horror movies or action flicks all that much." She gestured at the screen. "This is one of my favorite because of the singing, dancing, and the love story, but I'll only watch it if I know I'm too tired to finish the ending."

"She dies, right?" Watching her. He thought he remembered that.

"Mhmm. It was a perfectly good movie until then. If you gloss over the rest of the movie and finish watching it about five minutes before credits, you're golden." Her bottom lip was being worked through between her teeth, once again looking thoughtful. She looked to him again. This time she had sank so far back into the couch that her hair was brushing against his arm that was draped behind her. Not that she seemed to notice. "I'm really not naive or idiotic, nothing like that, I assure you. It's an escape. That's all." She felt like that had to be made crystal clear.

He was aware of the brush of silky hair against his arm, but he wasn't going to say anything. He listened to her, then nodded. "I understand, I really do. But you're part of the team now. Have to dish some sh*t. It's part of my job." Very seriously said.

"I can handle whatever you've got." She snickered softly, the sound much more subdued than previously, though she still looked just as amused. "Let's see... you've given me orientation, acted as a tour guide, made sure I ate. Now you're making sure I meet my daily quota of getting ribbed. Is there anything you don't do, Elijah?"

"Not much, but don't tell the others or they'll be asking for favors." A grin to her, watching how she was growing more tired, but still sat up to talk to him. He found himself inordinately pleased with that knowledge.

"The only one I can't guarantee is Victor. I'm equally curious and sure to be disturbed by the sorts of requests he could come up with." She waited a moment then nodded. "Alright, maybe I will spare you that, just because you've been so helpful to me in my first couple of days here." She returned the grin and turned her attention back towards the movie which still diligently played though neither of them were paying it any mind. She was continuing to sink here and there, her head now partially resting back against the couch as well as more against his arm than before. It seemed there was enough balance for her that she let it slide without apologizing. Though, more than likely, she was just too tired to mind.