[color=ffd100][b]Nikos[/b][/color]

"You're good with them," Nikos commented absentmindedly, voice low as he squinted at the paper in his lap. Six feet and curled into himself to draw, he looked deceptively small. And it was only when the kids scurried off to the warmth of their blankets that he sat up, rolling his shoulders and stretching his neck. Private in his work, Nikos was quick to slip the sketchbook and accompanying charcoal into his bag. He sniffed as he exchanged it for his water bottle to take a sip and looked around the room. He was one of the newcomers, but unlikely one to bring Daniel unease: he had been here longer than the others and was rarely a source or conduit for conflict. At worse, he eyed women and men alike a little too much, but overall offered a friendly presence and good food. 

Sitting up straight, his height showed, though he was thin. His dark hair was kept out of his pale face by a short ponytail, and he was dressed warmly. He replaced his water bottle, dark eyes flickering around the quieting room. Nikos had recovered since first arriving, but he could feel himself growing restless. He likened himself to be the sort to be comfortable where ever he was, but semi-permanence offered by the Bank made him uneasy. He came from a band of nomads, so the claustrophobia slowly setting in wasn't entirely strange or unwarranted.  

Nikos sat against the wall, listening to the quiet as children fell asleep and adults settled in to do the same, plagued by their past and anxieties. 

[hr]
[color=lightpink][b]Riddley[/b][/color]

Riddley stood outside, squinting against the darkness. She was restless, always having to be up and about, ideally not surrounded by people. So she stood just outside the bank, light eyes flickering about as her knife danced along her fingers and between her hands. There had to be someone standing guard against the night, she insisted, anything can happen. So she took the job upon herself. Having something to focus on was better than lulling in and out of sleep due to nightmares or grief, anyway, and she enjoyed the...semi-fresh air despite wearing a scarf over her nose to protect herself from it.

Unlike some of the others, Riddley no doubt brought uneasiness to some of the members of the Rochester crew. She was passionate and impatient, easily misjudged as a loose canon. She was intense, her gaze alone piercing. Despite her unrest, she took some comfort in joining the crew and having access to their building and supplies. She had spent her time before drifting between groups, usually finding some excuse to leave. While she allowed herself to hope that the Rochester crew may be different, she didn't count on it, but that wouldn't stop her from putting her energy into helping defend them. 

She allowed herself to still, the knife coming to a stop in her palm. Riddley gently replaced it in her boot, not resting her eyes or ears for a moment.