[b][i]Abigail Larson[/i] [/b]

Abby poked her head from about the doorway to the enormous pantry with a grin. "Better than we could have ever thought, Park!" she called, and then dropped her voice conspiratorially as she winked to the two men in the kitchen proper. "Well, so long as Josie doesn't make his way back here before we clean this place out. Have you guys seen our Shift head chef?" Abby took a step into the doorway, standing to her tiptoes with her arms high overhead, then spread wide as she nodded toward them both. 

"Oh yes, [i]that[/i] big! Former football player if I'm not mistaken - watch my back gentlemen! Even I couldn't talk my way out of this, and I [i]really[/i] don't want to get broken in half over an industrial-sized jar of mustard and a loaf of wheat bread!" 

Abby disappeared back into the pantry, her laughter bright and lilting, belying the darkness that wanted to take root in heart as the psychiatrist spoke. A great deal of what he said concerning Dr. Collini's report she already knew, though she did not say as much. The psychological report of the Second Shift psychiatrist had been a part of the investigative report. Though she was not a medical profession as Dr. Park was, the findings - however slim - only lent to the colossus of unease she carried with her these past days - 

For the moment though, it was simply a relief to carry all she purloined from the kitchen pantry. Extra-large bottles of mustard and mayonnaise formed the base of the precarious pyramid in her hands, topped with another bottle of ketchup, smaller glass jars of dill pickles and sweet pickle relish, salt and pepper shakers, a jar of barbecue sauce and that loaf of wheat bread tucked all the way up under her chin. The edge of a package of plain potato chips dangled from between the fingers of one hand, and another package of cheese curls from the other. Slowly she crossed the kitchen floor, carefully, to the nearest countertop. 

"A little help here gentlemen? Condiments here - and I think I'm going to leave hunting down our meat to the men folk of our little tribe," she quipped with a helpless grin over top the bread, a smile that slowly faded as she waddled her way toward Gavin and Park and relative safety. 

"But you know... Seriously, the one thing that always bothered me... About Sylas Adams? The guy is just so... Ordinary. Socially awkward... Yes... He's the one the victim... Identified, fended 'im off too... With extreme prejudice I read. But he's just... Yes, just so damned [i]ordinary.[/i]"

[i][b]Pauline Weber[/i][/b]

It was simple enough really, for Pauline to see that Antoine was being completely sincere as he spoke. She had thought as much before, and his actions only confirmed all she suspected: Antoine really was incapable of telling untruths. If she hadn't realized this, she honestly would have thought the guy was having a go at her, seeing just how gullible she really was.

But he wasn't, and she wasn't, and Pauline could not help but marvel at Antoine's words. Something was... Off. Really badly [i]off[/i] about the young man's explanation. She did not know what, she did not know how, and worst of all, she did not know enough to wonder what it was she did not know, but listening to Antoine's tale of his surgical enhancements left her with the most uneasy feeling. Not that Antoine himself made her the least ill at ease or nervous - far from it, actually. If anything, his explanation that he'd once been a soldier only raised his personal estimation in her eyes, after all she'd known and witnessed and suffered. Soldiers were safety, [i]surety[/i] in Pauline's eyes, and would remain so for all the days of her life.

But that did not change the fact Antoine's blithe enthusiasm for what had been done to him, for the experimental surgery for which he apparently volunteered, was simply... [i]Stunning.[/i] What kind of recruiting pitch, however "grade-A," could possibly explain a man letting people experiment on his brain? Of course the idea of a 'first-contact' scenario was exciting, to communicate with the alient, but hadn't the human race already [i]had[/i] its first contact experience - and had only just barely survived it? And even this brief moment of "survival" was not even close to assured... 

Pauline said none of this though, choosing instead to let the light of a genuine smile cover a multitude of doubts, and worries and even fears for the young man who might yet be her newest of friends one day. "Yes, that certainly [i]does[/i] answer my question - and then some!" she said with a small, incredulous laugh, reaching over to scratch Mowzer's head where he lay on Antoine's lap.

"Sleepy guy, isn't he?" she asked, looking up to Antoine with a sudden realization. Rumpled clothes, rumpled hair, something warm and fuzzy and a bit drowsy even as a strange woman managed to tumble gracelessly into his darkened room. "But Mowzer's not the only one, is he?"