[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/4sl6C8t.png[/img] [sub][color=c3bbc9]Interacting: Grace, Patti, etc.[/color][/sub][/center] To say it had not been a good day for Eliza would have been an understatement. For the last however-long (since she honestly wasn’t sure how many minutes or hours they’d been here) she’d found herself in a state of complete mental shutdown. Her instinct was, of course, to become invisible – logic said that if terrifying sadistic Romans couldn’t see her, they couldn’t hurt her, but the unfortunate implication was that every time she tried to disappear she got a nasty zap and was thus snapped violently back into visibility. Beyond that lingering twitchy, tingling pain, her hands and feet had gone entirely numb, her vision blurring and the room spinning around her. She felt like she might vomit, or faint, or both of the above, and she wasn’t entirely sure why, though the buzzing of fluorescent lights and the rack that she and Grace were strapped to were likely contributors. Sensory overload evidently still happened and still sucked when one was trying to decide if they were going to die or not… At least she had been spared much of the conversation. Or rather, lecture might have been a more appropriate way of describing that neverending stream of dialogue that emanated from Nero. She hadn’t been able to focus on very much of anything for a while, then, not until the door burst open and she was abruptly surrounded by the sound of her friend’s voices. In particular, Patricia’s. She couldn’t see for a moment, but she felt the tension in her wrists and shoulders abruptly release, her body falling against Patricia’s, the older girl’s voice soft and soothing in her ear and strong arms reassuring around her shoulders. She was really here. She was safe! They were both safe. Eliza pressed her face into the hollow in Patricia’s shoulder, arms clumsily and uncertainly wrapping around the taller girl. She took a shaking breath, then another, letting the faint familiar scent of Patricia’s shampoo calm her racing heart. Tears began to drip down her cheeks again, leaving stains on her girlfriend’s shirt. As she became more aware of her surroundings, she realized two things. First of all, she was tasting blood – that was something that could be dealt with later, she’d probably bitten her tongue or gotten a nosebleed in her flailing around on the rack thing. That was fine. Just something to be mindful of for the medics. Second of all, and more importantly, everyone was actually here. They were all safe. Seraph hadn’t stood a chance after all. Her legs were shaking as she finally dared a glance up at Patricia, eyes still welling with tears and taking a painfully long time to focus on her girlfriend’s lovely face. She hadn’t entirely processed a lot of what the older teen had said, but it was her beautiful voice and lovely words and that was all that really mattered. [color=c3bbc9]“You’re lovely,”[/color] she mumbled, resting her head against the other girl’s chest and letting her eyes blink shut for a moment longer. [hr][hr] [center][img]https://i.imgur.com/8tv7g5m.png[/img] [sub][color=9ed7db]Interacting: Blake, and the rest of the gang sort of.[/color][/sub][/center] This would be the last time Angie [i]ever[/i] got drunk, she was certain of it. While the more habitual drinkers seemed at least marginally functional, plowing ahead with their usual reckless abandon, Angelica found herself stumbling and swerving all over the pavement, scarcely able to track a straight line with her swirling vision. As the others rushed into a she found herself collapsed into some drunken approximation of “sitting” on an aesthetic pile of rubble just outside of the temple they’d emerged from, trying and failing to not paint the cobbled ground with whatever had been left in her stomach. Even her hungover stupor was not enough to render her less awestricken by the havoc that her friends could wreak, however; they made short work of the ogres and two of the most prominent buildings around the forum… After several moments of being useless, she wobbled off in the direction Blake had gone, absently clutching a twisted (and decidedly NOT authentically-Roman) and hefty piece of rebar that she’d pulled from the rubble of one of the structures as they walked past. It wasn’t much by way of a weapon, but it was better than nothing, she supposed, even if it did take her back to her freshman year of high school and her ill-fated popularity stunt of trying out for color guard… she shuddered at the memory, forcing her addled brain back to the present. Blake had been bitten by yet another Vermile, she realized quickly – judging by the screams it was the second or third bite. She rushed towards him as he drunkenly grinned, his flirty comment drawing color to her cheeks as a giddy smirk bloomed across her lips. It was not a there for long, however, as he promptly toppled over. Lacking in the physical strength to carry him, she was left helplessly standing beside him until Sam hefted her cupcake up over his shoulder as though he weighed nothing… delightful, that. She couldn't even render assistance. She was once again left trailing along after the group, uselessly clutching her useless rebar and following, watching behind for any enterprising Leftovers or villains who might be after a softer and unprepared target. It was a quiet journey into the elevator, however, and even down into the office the situation was (surprisingly) readily dealt with. Relief washed over her as she saw Grace and Eliza, mostly intact and seemingly in one piece – part of her longed to rush to her sister, but she saw that the role of caretaker was being taken up by Patricia at the moment. So, she shut down the emotions of worthlessness that once again welled in her chest, amplified now that the obvious dangers were passed, and began clumsily searching the office for any sort of tool or weapon that might help them find their way out. Pragmatics first, emotions second. She had to redeem herself somehow.