[center][h1][color=17A589]Carla Lobo[/color][/h1][/center]
[hr][center][color=17A589][b]Location:[/b][/color] The Lounge[/center][hr]

Carla made her way over to the lounge where she was called. Whatever the boys were discussing had obviously reached that point where they felt comfortable bringing in lower clearance pawns like herself in. Well, not so much a pawn since she was allowed on the ship even when most of the rest of the crew was excised. The Alliance probably saw her as a Castle or a Knight. Still not allowed into the inner sanctums of the Bishops and Kings, but skilled and useful enough to try keeping around as long as possible. The assassin was nominally surprised when the door didn't open automatically. Hazarding a guess, she entered the keycode, which the door seemed to respond to.

Carla found the three men standing around: the newcomer Jahosafat looking relaxed but excited, Foy glancing at his very expensive looking pocketwatch, and Captain Quinn staring rapiers into the first-mentioned crew member. Only Jahosafat's body language seemed to imply complete relaxation; Gregory was clearly more rigid than an iron girder, a step above even his usual demeanor, and while Foy appeared to be his usual flamboyantly chipper self, to the trained eye residual tenseness of the shoulders and back was visible. Nothing much more could be immediately gathered from the scenario, and Carla wasn't interested in trying to read further into the situation. The assassin stepped into the room and stood at attention: a gesture that was probably wasted in this particular circumstance, but came naturally from her training in the Agency and dealing directly with the Alliance for years.

[color=17A589]"I was called for?"[/color] Carla asked, her gaze directed at Gregory. Her demeanor of stoicism cracked as she furrowed her eyebrows and sniffed a couple times. [color=17A589]"Is that urine I smell?"[/color]