Alexa gingerly steps over the obvious mine and... Entirely fails to detonate a second, better-hidden mine? That was her icebreaker, Mynx! She was supposed to feel something click underfoot, have just enough time to look up into smirking eyes, and lose Mynx in the blast of gaseous pellets! You're really letting the side down, you know that? 

She navigates to the couch, nudging scattered clothing and nibbled-at-but-almost-untouched food out of her path until she has room to sit against the base of the couch.

And now that she's here, back against the mottled, mustard-yellow velour, she doesn't even know what to say.

"She really is not here" is an option. It has its merits. Direct. To the point. Blunt. Can pretend she gives a damn about 'catching the assassin' for the peanut gallery bristling around the door.

Oh, yes, Alexa. Brilliant. She's sad. Throw it in her face, why don't you? I'm sure she'd just love to be reminded of it. Sigh city, population Us.

"Redana talks about you?" Small talk. Great. Remind her of the past, back when they were all just... Well, not friends. Co-workers? Not-not-friends? People who all had Redana as a common link? Wonderful. Highlight that they weren't and, kind of, aren't together.

Geez. Redana makes this friendship thing look so easy.

She examines the merits of "yes, and"-ing Mr. Sergistan. Engages at the level Mynx is currently at? Allows her to slip in a joke about crew manifests, stowaways, and overzealous potential crewmates who, can you believe, think you're an assassin, I mean, how silly is that?

She sighs, lets her head flop back, and joins Mynx in staring at the ceiling.

Receives an answering, heavier sigh.

Yep. That about says it all, doesn't it?

"I still cannot believe how far we have come," she admits.