Sybil’s swing met air and the momentum nearly took her onto the ground. Part of her was annoyed at how easily she’d been dipped, and that part whirled around to put her hands back up and prepare to swing again. Thankfully, the rest of her saw Quinn calling for time and was glad she’d missed. The idea of practically introducing herself with a sucker punch twisted her stomach into knots.

Still, it was weird. It was weird, right? She glanced over to Cyril, whose brow was cocked, and he gave her a small shrug with his lips. Yeah, weird. But that was the rumor about the RISC crew, that they were all off in little ways. Not like the Helburkans, but from the interviews and appearances over the years, it had become clear that Runa employed the unique. Cyril found it charming, but Sybil had always been wary. After all, looking at someone like St. Senn, it was obvious the little eccentricities belied terrible power. They’d all seen as much from Quinnlash recently, too.

She waited while Quinnlash drank, and when their younger senior asked a question, she waited again, and pondered what strange double-meaning it might have. Eventually she gave up and popped out her mouthguard before answering.

“[color=55cbcd]Yeah. Mid to long, I think, is what they classified it as,[/color]” she said, once again looking to Cyril, but getting nothing helpful in return. “[color=55cbcd]Why?[/color]”