Zoey simply melted through the shadows in the corner of the room, flopping in an arm chair like she'd been there for hours. She felt a bit like she had, and she was glad to finally be getting out of this cabin. For some reason, it vaguely reminded her of a large fire. But maybe that was just another nightmare.

She noticed instantly that the room smelled a bit like alcohol. [i]Fantastic. Stealth mission, lets drink. Solid.[/i] If she gave a damn, she'd probably be able to tell which drink. But she really didn't give a damn. At this point, she would consider just getting on the boat without something going horribly wrong a successful mission. She eyed Travis and wondered if he was coming. She assumed he was, but she didn't really see him as a stealth operative. In fact, he reminded her a bit of the guy Cyril from that TV show... which was it? Archer, that's right. Capable of maybe doing something good, but more likely to be a punch line. She was so positively astonished by this line up that she started thinking of drinking herself. She had a small vial of moonshine. After all, she might need it for when his all goes horribly wrong. At worst, the damn thing would make her drunk enough to find the humor. At best, soaking in the moonlight of a few nights might help give her a boost. Either way, she was already coming to grips with the fact that this mission might already be majorly boned.