Alison cautiously puts up her slender hand. She's been sitting in the back of the room, largely silent save for the sound of pen scratching on paper as she tskes notes in a small leatherbound notebook. Her handwriting is, aside from being almost incomprehensibly messy, in a form of shorthand that she taught herself and quite indecyperable to anyone looking over her shoulder.

She looks nervous. With her plain, dull clothing (purchased at a secondhand store just for the trip - she didn't have clean laundry or time to go to the laundromat) she faded into the background as soon as anything more interesting appeared to be a more worthy focus of attention. It's likely more than one person forgot she was there entirely.

"Excuse me," she asks. Her voice comes out rough and scratchy. It's been a long time since she said anything. It could be the first time some have heard her speak at all, too nervous to make small talk with a room full of strangers. "We're not expected to-" she swallows, clearing her throat. "To do any fighting, are we? I thought this would just be research a-and analysis."