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[b][u]Los Paraísos: The Flying Albatross[/b][/u]

Like Moira, Amy too leaned back in her chair somewhat, legs crossed and wine glass casually brought to her lips. She raised a brow as Thunderhawk began to relay information about their mission: simply put, finding missing women - and... wait. That wasn't even it. The mission was just "women are missing" - not to dissect clues to their whereabouts, not to interview suspects, not even to scout out the missing persons in question.

Yeah, Amy had a question - what the fuck kind of a debriefing was this? Even she had no idea what facial expression she was supposed to take at this point, so she just continued sipping away at her wine (the three bottles lingering by her feet) while the other guilders shot questions left and right like a game of ping pong.

[i]"Any questions?"

"Yes, of course we have questions! How many women? Since when? Where did they go missing from?"

"Do we at least know anything about the women? Like, if they're locals or tourists? If they have anything in common?"

"Why would they go missing? Can we get some kind of list of the missing persons?"[/i]

As if they were in a classroom, Trixie thrust up her hand high in the air and began waving it. "Ooh, ooh! Is this a question game? I'm good at those. Hey, hey Thunderpig, are they just playing hide-n-seek? Oh! What's the area limit for how far they can hide? Have you tried calling out olly-olly-oxen-free yet?"

Moira had already nearly shattered her bottle with an earlier slam; Amy took care not to shatter her own glass by the same manner. Though as it shook within her grasp, her other hand immediately curled into a trembling fist. She spoke in a hushed tone through gritting teeth, with eyes scrunched shut. It was impossible to be in the same room as Thunderhawk and Trixie. "Trixie could you not be two years old for just one day. Please." Amy then looked to her companion, forcing a smile. Trixie pursed her lips, knowing very well what [i]that[/i] one meant. "First impressions, kiddo."

The prankster crossed her arms tightly before turning away from the table, her cheeks puffed. The prankster may have been sixteen, but with her density and how calmly and little detailed Thunderpig presented the matter at hand, their "mission" was not something she could even comprehend as serious. At all. "'Least I'm not an old fart. Old fart."

"Fuh. Sorry." Amy said, keeping her eyes rather narrowed as she returned to drinking her wine, keeping the glass close to her lips all the while. Her foot began to tap the air as she waited for answers. Everyone else seemed to have knocked down the basic questions, which [i]hopefully[/i] someone had the answers to so they knew where to start. But now the wait on what exactly the situation at hand was began to sink in. Just how dire was it? What kinds of connections did the missing women have? Did... Thunderhawk even actually know the other details? This [i]was[/i] Thunderhawk they were talking to.

Though she said nothing more, Amy's eyes wandered to Aria and Xandra next. Perhaps those two could offer something relatively useful instead.