Quinn was still rather winded for her part, pulling her hand through her bangs to get some of the sweat off of them. Reaching out for her water, she pulled the cap off again, tried to take a drink, and then remembered that she'd just drained it, and only the finest rivulet of water ran into her mouth. As Cyril began to speak, Quinn gently unplaited her braid. It had gotten messy, and demanded to be tied again. It was something that she'd gotten in the habit of doing after rigorous exercise, lest her hair get kinked. But she'd barely managed to get it down to her neck before the door shot open. Quinn [i]jerked,[/i] yanking unpleasantly on the strands of hair she was holding, and turned her head to see...

...The vaunted Camille, wearing [i]quite[/i] the uniform, and quite the expression. Quinn could practically [i]smell[/i] the ice that she carried in her wake.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cyril...[i]salute?[/i] Huh? Was that normal? Should she—

...Well, when in Casoban. After a moment, she lifted her own hand in a clumsy imitation of his salute, cringing internally as the nascent braid unspooled into nothingness with no hands guiding it. She must be an absolute [i]sight.[/i] Should she say something now? Address her somehow? Should she call her [i]Captain[/i] too?

But for the moment, at least, the question was dodged. Before Quinn could think about saying anything, Camille had started to redress Sybil. Tonight's sims were cancelled? There were sims? There [i]was[/i] a schedule to keep? Anxiety shot cold and quick through her blood. Nobody had told her. She was beginning to understand why Cyril had seemed so happy to not exercise with, or even spend time around, this woman. There was something so crushingly [i]intimidating[/i] about her.

A few moments later, she dropped the unnatural-feeling salute, and winced as Camille shredded Sybil in the most matter-of-fact way. Almost before she knew it the Derisas were leaving. When Cyril sent her an apologetic glance, Quinn matched it with one of her own. [i][color=ffe63d]This wouldn't have happened if I hadn't showed up. Sorry.[/color][/i]

And then she and the [i]Captain[/i] were alone. A silent moment stretched out as Quinn nervously fiddled with the fringe of her unbraided hair.

"[color=a187be]So, now you’ve seen them first hand. What do you think of Casoban’s heroes?[/color]"

"[color=ffe63d]I—[/color]" There was a telltale nervous tremble in her voice, and she took a moment both to crush it down and to collect her thoughts before she continued. Camille seemed like the kind of person who you didn't want mad at you, so she did her best to sum up what she thought as concisely as possible. "[color=ffe63d]...Cyril's fun. People seem to like him. He has to learn to keep his guard up better. Sybil...[/color]" God, what was she going to say about Sybil?

"[color=ffe63d]...I didn't talk to her much until now, but...[/color]" [i][color=ffe63d]...she should be spending more time in here.[/color][/i] But her voice caught in her throat before she said that last part. Camille was training them. And she didn't want to make Camille mad at her. So after an awkward moment of silence, "[color=ffe63d]...she keeps trying to fight like Cyril and it's not working.[/color]" Another silence that stretched out for longer than was strictly comfortable.

"[color=ffe63d]...um, Captain.[/color]"