[@Silvan Haven][@Write][@HereComesTheSnow][@Plank Sinatra]

[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/foO0yFo.png[/img][/center]

"[color=66cd00]Hn.[/color]"

There was nothing else that Gratia Mindaro needed to add to the conversation. The information offered to her by the other trainee Hunter was adequate for her purposes, and any further continuance of the irrelevant exchange would only prove to be irksome. She had answered Luke's enquiries, and he hers, and that was all that had been necessary. She crossed her arms, onyx gaze detaching itself from the boy's face, with her vision instead moving towards the stairs that led up to the balcony. Quiet, jazzy notes continued to flow from the ship's main hall, dulled by the distance and obstacles between them.

She breathed in the air. She breathed in the scent of the salt, the cold tang of the wind and sea spray.

This was what Bianca sought from the cruise, then? An ennui amongst foolish, foppish fucktards pretend to be great simply because they had cash to spare?

Gratia Mindaro clicked play. Her own songs began to flow into her ears through the headphones.

Bianca had chosen to come, and she herself had unfortunately decided to follow.