[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/6PAtRMC.png[/img][table][row][cell][sup][color=gray][b]𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎[/b] - it's morning[/color][/sup][/cell][cell][sup][color=gray][b]𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗[/b] - New York City: The Rookery[/color][/sup][/cell][cell][sup][color=gray][b]𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗[/b] - everyone[/color][/sup][/cell][/row][/table][/center]
[color=lightgray]Some Numbers were more pleasant than others, but all of them kept Orwell's attention. They were glad that they'd come - not that they'd actually had a choice in the matter, not if they wanted to keep dearest O'Brien in the organization's good graces. It wouldn't do to be [i]too[/i] naughty and skip out on such a momentous event in person, even if they'd have been able to see it all remotely in one way or another. No, Orwell was glad they were here and getting to learn all of their sibling's little quirks first hand. Their was a sort of satisfied look on their face that contrasted with the spark of something else in their eerie eyes. Longing, perhaps? Or simply the hunger that all Numbers felt in one way or another?

Either way, it appeared Orwell was in a fine mood even when O'Brien's eye twitched every so slightly at Valentine's crassness. And when the Archbishop arrived to greet everyone and lead the way up to the war room, Nine and its handler were among those at the front of the pack. Even so Orwell kept watch on the group at large, their demeanor making it seem like this was a casual stroll, thumbs hooked into their trouser pockets and all. 

As they all slipped inside the war room, O'Brien moved forward to let the rest in knowing that Orwell would be on his heels. He elected to stand, though Orwell had claimed a chair and dragged halfway towards the wall before plopping themselves down into it. They pulled one foot up to rest on the edge of the seat, folding their arms on top of their knee and nestling their chin in there. The general gave everyone in the room a rundown on recent events, and the Archbishop laid out his wishes for a response from his Numbers.

Throughout it all Orwell's countenance hadn't changed from the one they wore downstairs, as if none of what they were hearing surprised them. Rather than the hologram their gaze -physical and not- was focused on their 'family' and those currently in charge of their siblings. Watching, analyzing, recording expressions and reactions. 

[i]How interesting.[/i]

Even those that didn't appear to be paying attention at all piqued Nine's notice. Without turning their head, Orwell's eyes flicked to O'Brien at their side. The man stood there dispassionately, his hands clasped together behind his back. He did not look back at Orwell, just staring ahead at the footage that both he and his assignment had already seen.

He did not volunteer Nine for either mission. Nine, too, did not speak up. They already knew where they were needed. Their eyes flickered back to the room at large before coming to rest on Pequod, a strange little smile budding on their lips.[/color] "Oho~?"