[hr][hr][center][h1][color=00ccff][b][i]Cecily Ashworth[/i][/b][/color][/h1][img]https://s22.postimg.cc/rdo2m1mep/tumblr_oxf6ecb7_Yi1wtw0p9o2_540.gif[/img][hr][hr][b][color=00ccff]Location:[/color][/b]  Laredo Colombia Solidarity Port of Entry
[b][color=00ccff]Skills:[/color][/b] Driving (car) [/center][hr]	Cecily always had a slight habit of holding her breath whenever crossing a border and her items were being examined. Of course, this habit didn't factor in the reasoning that both her and Natasha benefited from a healthy amount of white privilege in the crossing. It had been originally a game that she and her brother played - if they could hold their breath when going into another country, they wouldn't get selected for a more thorough search. She returned to normal breathing once they had been swiped through, about to smile and ask Natasha for directions for where to head to next, when she turned to see Natasha beginning a huge bloody coughing fit. 

	[color=00ccff]"Got it,"[/color] Cecily agreed, pulling the car over as soon as she saw a space on the shoulder to do so. She turned on their hazards, just in case. She doubted they'd be needed but she wanted to be careful, anyways. Putting the car into park, Cecily didn't turn it off, figuring that whatever climate control the car could provide, Natasha would be in need of it. At least they were back in the United States, so they could take Natasha to a hospital if she needed it. [color=00ccff]"How can I help?"[/color] she then asked softly. She wasn't sure if there was anything that she could do for her, but she saw Natasha as a friend and wanted to be able to help her recover from this coughing fit as quickly as possible.[hr][hr][center][h1][color=99ccff][b][i]Iris Kingston[/i][/b][/color][/h1][img]https://78.media.tumblr.com/369c373ccd5492086fe09c131190330d/tumblr_o1l0wsNgEX1s5zf6fo1_500.gif[/img][hr][hr][b][color=99ccff]Location:[/color][/b] Secret Airstrip in Grimm
[b][color=99ccff]Skills:[/color][/b] Photographic Memory [/center][hr]	Iris had never seriously considered the fact that she'd ever be on a crashing plane before. She knew that the odds were greater that she'd be in a car accident and yet, she took Ubers all the time and never had any fear, beyond that the drivers might turn out to be a descendant of Charles Mason. The descent struck her as being a bit harder than was normal and when they crashed into the ground, Iris realized in retrospection what the descent had really been - the start of a crash.

	Her thoughts were jumbled and disorganized as she went through the motions, freeing herself from the effective seatbelt and stumbling to her feet. She could have had a gigantic piece of metal in her leg and she might not have noticed it. Her brain had gone into some sort of hyperactive almost zombie like survival mode, allowing her to focus on her one goal of importance - getting out of the cabin. She stumbled her way forward and got out, avoiding pieces of the private plane that were in her way. Perhaps even ten minutes later, if someone had asked her to describe her surroundings, she wasn't sure if she would have been able to do it - even with her photographic memory. 

	[color=99ccff]"Monsieur Ross?"[/color] Iris called out, slipping to her second mother tongue.