Quinn smiled, happy that she was going to get to talk to Tillie more, and also, very excited to have someone in her room! Her dresser might be up by now—oooooooh, she could show off her dress! A part of her realized that it would probably be a bit weird, but she just really loved that thing, and she wanted to show it off as much as she could to as many people as she could. Well, people that she knew, at any rate.

She took a step back in, winding up in hugging range of Tillie, and nodded her head twice. "[color=ffe63d]Uh huh, you can come to my room after dinner. I needed to see a friendly face too.[/color]" She paused, muttered to herself: "[color=ffe63d]...Will I need to let her in?[/color]" She didn't know whether she would need to let her in manually, or if she could just tell the system to let Tillie Tomm in, or...who knew what, really? Maybe she could ask—

OH! That was right! She was going to fight Cyril! She spied a large ornate clock sunk flush into the wall: afternoon, later than she'd thought, definitely time by now. He'd be at the gym now, right? Maybe after they sparred she could ask about letting Tillie in. He seemed like the kind of person to know. On that note, she also needed to get his contact information, and the other pilots' too.

She nodded to herself, then turned her attention back to Tillie, face writ with gentle regret. "[color=ffe63d]I forgot, I have a place I need to be soon, I gotta go. See you after dinner, okay?[/color]" Leaning in to give Tillie one last squeeze, she disconnected, then departed, aiming for the lift. As she slipped into the door and it closed silently behind her, the silence was suddenly broken by her stomach growling menacingly. Ah, right, she hadn't eaten, and she didn't really have time to go out and eat. Hadn't she seen a vending machine somewhere, maybe the rec area?

A couple minutes later, rapidly disappearing protein bar and her retrieved water bottle in hand, she finally took that turn down the hallway and dove into the huge gym.

And yep, there Cyril was, decked out in sparring pads, already ready to go. And Sybil was there too, which she didn't expect; no pads on her, at least not yet. Swallowing down the last of the protein bar, she took a long drink, made sure her braid was nice and set so it didn't come undone again (how embarrassing would that be?). 

That done, she gave a little wave and jogged over to the fabric basket with the rest of the sparring stuff in it, quickly donning her own. It was a little different; she had her own personal set at home, after all. But it would do fine. Cracking her neck, she tossed her water bottle over towards the wall, stretched, and stepped on to the mat. A part of her was definitely nervous; he was taller than she was, and he was probably stronger too. He would probably beat her at first. A hint of that anxiety was evident in her voice when she spoke:

"[color=ffe63d]Ready?[/color]"