Weeks passed. They were mostly boring, which Ellen supposed she couldn’t really complain about. Being bored was better than being dead. Her arm was fully healed up, and so were the other smaller injuries she had sustained when fighting the FOE agent. 

Ellen checked on Ciara a few times, but once the girl's head felt better, she didn't want anything to do with Ellen. Ellen got the impression the younger girl just wanted to forget everything about that night, and seeing Ellen reminded her of what they had done. Ellen took the hint and stayed away after that.

She learned more about her magic, finding out that she had a few other abilities she hadn't learned about the night she woke. After practicing with her second skin, Ellen found her need to shower grew exponentially, and she had to wash the bits of blubber out of her clothes a frustrating number of times. The first time her crab claw emerged, Ellen screamed and flailed her arms around. Her larger claw smashed into a table and broke it. With some practice, she found that the little crab pincers she gained on the other hand could crack a walnut with ease. She debated thinking of this new ability as [I]The Nutcracker[/I], but ultimately decided if she wanted to ever get laid again, she couldn't refer to her hands as nutcrackers.

Other than turning herself into an amalgam of slippery aquatic creatures (like an evil villain version of Aquaman), Ellen could turn glass into sand, but it gave her headaches to do so. She could also make a sort of… double of herself in a different place, but it was very hard to concentrate on both herself and this other form. It was an eerie reminder of her sister, and it made her uncomfortable to use for multiple reasons. The last one she was starting to get a handle on has something to do with oxygen and plants. She knew she could take oxygen from one area where there were plants and redirect it to herself. She hadn't tried it yet, but she was very curious about whether she could go full Ursula's mutant cousin and make an air-bubble for herself to breathe underwater. For now, the skill hardly seemed useful because breathing extra air made her feel a bit woozy. 

She found herself a bit annoyed that she turned into a Scooby-Doo villain style blubbery slippery crab creature while some people turned into sexy muscled rock-men. But she was glad at least to have the time to learn these things about herself. The next time she faced an FOE agent, she wouldn't be nearly so defenseless. 

Ellen didn't only work on her magic (and laundry) during the two weeks off. Once her body was healed enough, she went for runs around Goodnight. She joined a scrawny teenager who could easily out-last and out-pace her, but Ellen wasn't competitive enough feel dissuaded from running just because she was losing. It was nice to ignore the people fighting like they were on a reality show, and listen instead to the sounds of shoes hitting the tile and concrete floor, and the steady breathing that punctuated each handful of steps.

In truth, Ellen didn't know what she was waiting for. She knew she wanted to help with the underground, and she knew she had made that damn clear to Hans before he left for… getting back to his normal life, or whatever. But would she have to wait a year to do something useful? Ellen wanted to believe she had the dedication and patience to wait, but she also knew she would turn into one of the over-dramatic bickering 'Survivor' folks if they didn't give her something to do soon. Maybe she could find someone and ask about weapons training. Shooting a gun the first time hadn't been [i]awful[/i] but it certainly could have gone better.

As excited as Ellen was to be summoned on the 20th, Ellen was NOT a morning person. On the boats, she was always up before the sun, which made it easier to pretend she was just getting up very late rather than very early. Like her first morning at Goodnight, she barely pulled herself together. She was still in the leggings and racer-back top she had slept in, and her hair was pulled up in a somewhat disheveled ponytail as she walked to the office. Ellen wiped some of the sleep out of her bleary eyes and then replaced her glasses as she entered the room. 

Immediately she spied the coffee urns and went over to help herself. She poured two cups and carried both over to the map where people were gathered. One mug she left on the table and the other she used to warm her hands, taking large sips as she forced herself awake.

The man in charge looked to be Ellen's age. He was cute, but she didn't love the whole, 'I have so much responsibility I don't take care of myself and need someone else to take care of me' vibe he was putting off. There were other people assembled around the room, most of whom Ellen didn’t know personally, but had seen around, like the teenage runner--Abi, and rock-man. 

Simon began to talk about their accomplishments, and Ellen looked around, wondering who fought street art (and how it came alive), and who healed flesh. The latter, at least, sounded really useful to have around, and Ellen secretly hoped that if they were paired off, she got to be partnered with the healer. She had always played tanks in video games, and felt like healers were the next most important ones to have around. 

Simon then revealed that they were having a lot of losses, casualties. Ellen switched her empty cup with the full one around the same time Simon had his cup refilled, and started to bring it to her lips as he uttered the word ‘Volunteering.’ 

“Yes!” Ellen interrupted, pausing the mug in the air. “I am in. Absolutely in.” She noticed a few people looking at her, and her face flushed, looking into the coffee mug as she cleared her throat. “Ahem, Sorry. Continue.” 

When Simon [b]actually[/b] finished speaking, Ellen eagerly gave him a nod. “Like I said, I’m in.” She repeated. Then she looked at the others in the room, curious if any of them would decline. Abigail was young, but she could tell the girl was trying desperately to run away, and would probably throw herself into action to try to keep running. She didn’t blame the kid. Ellen looked down at the half of the yin yang tattoo on her right wrist, the constant reminder that she was always running, too.