How the hell did you miss? And you call yourself a warrior. As you slide by Ampere, totally missing your target due to the newcomer's more successful attempt at vengeance, you sigh in relief. You're not pleased you missed, but at least you didn't end up in some cluster fuck mess, pooled on the ground, knocked over from your inability to remain sober more than a few hours at a time. Luck works in funny ways. Slowing to a halt, you nearly topple over as you turn back to the commotion. How many plants did you eat? You'd think the effects would be wearing off by now.

Much to your disappointment, the general air of dissent seems to have dissipated from the area. The crackling electricity is gone, the shouting, the roar of pulsing blood in your ears. All is quiet now. Quiet enough, at least. As the little blue gathers herself back up, you shift uneasily, placated by your inability to even hit the meager girl. The forest seems to slumber now, scared into hiding by all of the chaos that had just erupted here. A quick search of your shoulder bag confirms that you still don't like the little blue, her electric nature having fried all of your greens to ash, leaving you to snort disdainfully as she pulls herself off the tree.

Letting them mutter between themselves about formalities and this and that, the blue girl stalking off, you try to find words in your hazy brain. You're tired of being here, ready to stalk off even, but you've remembered that you're supposed to be recruiting. Its part of your master plan, isn't it? Recruit to the Asylum, prove your worth and become general? Fine, you grumble internally. You don't exactly like the newcomer, but its not like it would hurt to ask. He doesn't exactly seem crazy... but then maybe he'll be useful for something else. Perhaps.

“We're in danger,” you grumble with condescension, one of the first things you've said this entire meeting not meant to rile up any feathers. You're certain there are hungry wolves and other such carnivores in the woods. And while you normally wouldn't concern yourself with them, the amount of noise that was created here surely would have called them this way. Perhaps your brain is clearing up a little more than you thought it was. Damn. “I've got food, water, protection...” You trail off, unwilling to admit that you want him to come with you despite his rude comments earlier. But you've got to get over yourself if this plan is going to work, so you shove some words out quickly before you decide not to say them at all. “Come join my herd.” The words are terse, clearly forced, and you make yourself look into his eyes as you await a response. It feels awkward. You're not exactly sure how to do this.

we all look for ways to make the pain go away