Lizzy smiled at Illinois' slip and reached out to punch the level 7 button. She glanced from behind the safety of her visor at Montana, but the man didn't seem intent on making conversation or putting himself out to meet his peers. Lizzy wasn't one to step on toes if she could help it, but his silent presence in the elevator did make things a bit awkward in her mind.

"You'll have to start paying attention, Illinois. We're going to be here for quite a while; I didn't hear anything about washing out of the program, so, unless we really flop on our fitness tests, we're going to be calling this place home. I bet he knows his way around the ship already." She gestured at their silent cohort with a thumb, willing to go out on a limb since it worked into the conversation. Her weight shifted to one leg, and she rested a hand on her jutting hip. Her voice, however, was hesitantly inquisitive. "Don't you? I'm sorry; I still haven't matched all the designations to the helmets, yet. Are you Montana or Alaska?"

Lizzy wouldn't call herself overly outgoing, but she had always been the cheerful one of the bunch and her relationship with her ODST squad had helped her develop a confidence in starting interactions with strangers. You never knew if you didn't try was a tenant she was brought up on and one she still put stock in, even now. Besides, she figured that one should always make an attempt to get to know who one was working with. Better relationships meant more effective ops, if nothing else.

Again, doubts born of the Director's speech drifted to the surface of Lizzy's mind. He had implied they would be given missions based on the level of their skills, not the skills themselves. Every unit looked for the best, but when you had already gathered the best... what kind of ranking system could you possibly expect to have? The solutions her mind came up with left her feeling decidedly uneasy.