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Lysandra looked up from the telescope control console, twisting partway around to address the question. It was a perfunctory one, of course, but the kind that you always asked as a leader, and of [i]course[/i] she had thoughts. She [i]always[/i] had thoughts. [color=7FFFD4][b]"I mean, can we really afford [i]not[/i] to?"[/b][/color] she asked rhetorically. [color=7FFFD4][b]"I don't want you guys turning all bloodlusty on me."[/b][/color] She continued. [color=7FFFD4][b]"Besides, with the way Mistle's drying up these days, I should probably get out to it if you can take my gimpy ass along. Hopefully do some salvage with Pops, but at least sample return if it's beyond saving."[/b][/color] 

As she spoke, her body language might've looked casual enough: twisted partway around, forearm draped over the back of her wheelchair. Yet, there was a definite nervousness about Lys. The fingers of her other hand flicked at one of Marsh Sage's props as the drone rested on her lap. She could feel a tightness building in her shoulders and settling atop her stomach. She furrowed her brow. [color=7FFFD4][b]"You got some coordinates, chief? I see that big scary red 'LOST' in your chicken-scratch."[/b][/color] She craned her neck. [color=7FFFD4][b]"Makes me nervous."[/b][/color]

[color=gold][b]“Is it really that bad?”[/b][/color] Erik leaned in toward the word scribbled on the map with a pensive expression. It was a rare face he made that never appeared for too long. In fact, he was already beaming again. [Color=gold][b]“Thanks for pointing that out. When I get the time we can redo the map so it's legible for the others!”[/b][/color]

[color=7FFFD4][i]Murdered,[/i][/color] Lys thought, [color=7FFFD4][i]by kindness.[/i][/color] She blushed. [color=7FFFD4][b]"It isn't [i]that[/i] bad,"[/b][/color] she quickly added. [color=7FFFD4][b]"I just like pulling your leg."[/b][/color]

Erik was still smiling. [color=gold][b]"Oh, and your coordinates,"[/b][/color] he replied, face turning pensive again for a moment as he scanned the map. He was in mission mode now - always friendly and helpful, but professional: [i]focused[/i]. Lys admired the way that he could switch gears. It reminded her of her father. Erik stuck a pin through the map, into the corkboard beneath it. [color=gold][b]"N 50.91721° E 5.91775°,"[/b][/color] he announced almost... cheerily. [color=gold][b]"Hope I got that right."[/b][/color]

[color=7FFFD4][b]"So do I,"[/b][/color] she responded with a hint of a grin. [color=7FFFD4][b]"Or this is gonna be quite the adventure. Thanks chief."[/b][/color] She let her smile fade. [color=7FFFD4][i]N 50.91721° E 5.91775°... N 50.91721° E 5.91775°[/i][/color] Lysandra repeated mentally, pulling the lever that unlocked the telescope's mounting and cranking the handle that opened the dome. With a shudder, the great metal orifice, with its canvas of patches and rust, grated open. The mighty old Victorian-era instrument at its centre groaned on its bearings, swinging into place as she entered the coordinates.   

Releasing the brakes on her wheelchair, she rolled up to the eyepiece and peered through.[color=7FFFD4][i] Nothing.[/i][/color] She didn't like seeing nothing when there was clearly [i]something[/i]. She adjusted the view a bit, manually, arm aching a little as she turned the control wheel. She'd been at archery practice all morning. Then, she spotted it. Lys' eyes widened. Sure as they were about to go on a mission, there was a great big pack of Lost passing through her field of view. They loped, stalked, and shambled by. She counted at least a dozen and suppressed a shudder. [color=7FFFD4][b]"Well, this is pretty,"[/b][/color] she announced, looking up and twisting a bit. [b][color=7FFFD4]"Lotta Lost there."[/color][/b] She swept some hair from her eyes. [color=7FFFD4][b]"Low level, but [i]lots[/i]. I counted thirteen, but I think we can count on more."[/b][/color] She released her brakes again and backed away. [color=7FFFD4][b]"If anyone wants to take a look, you're welcome to."[/b][/color] She gestured towards the eyepiece momentarily before rolling up to the table, apprehension nibbling at her insides. 

It had been a few months since Lysandra had gone into the field, but this wasn't just a normal supply run that she could twist Akaia's rubber arm into doing. There was actual research and sample retrieval. Back in the walking days, she'd have been jonesing to go: filled with more anticipation than apprehension, but that was neither here nor there. [color=7FFFD4][i]You're part of a team,[/i][/color] she scolded herself. [color=7FFFD4][i]You pull your weight or you're deadweight. You're deadweight, you're [/i]dead[i]... or someone [/i]else [i]is because of you.[/i][/color] She rested her elbows on the table's smooth stone edges. The part without the corkboard and map was always nice and cool. [color=7FFFD4][b]"That said, I think we can handle it."[/b][/color] She forced a confident smile that was only half-fake. She trusted these people, and they'd picked up quite a few useful new members over the past few weeks... who she trusted less, but there was safety in numbers, at least. [color=7FFFD4][b]"Let's... roll, Commune?"[/b][/color]