Missed poses

The other Ryans daughter blinks and her head snaps to look towards her father. What the hell? Lucille straightens up a bit and she stares from Eileen to her father. Before shrugging slightly and digging her hands in her pockets. Just another reason for him to be to 'busy'.

She chuckles softly at the irony of it all and looks towards her father gain. "Congrats dad." Is what the woman says, barely audible.

After the smallest of smiles toward Delia (his eyes on her hair), Smedley lifts one booted foot to the bench and leans forward on the stick in order to help himself stand on the seat. It affords him the ability to see over the heads of those gathered, and also to make his voice heard. "'Less you need'er for anythin' special, I can take Jenny out to Jersey to pick up that load'uh kids," the westerner calls out across the room, nodding to Brian at the end. "Give yuh time to make sense'uh whatcha got and whatcha need, so when I do go back to the City, y'can send me with a list."

His eyes got to the back of Lucille's head, knowing the girl's anxiety to get off the island, half-willing her not to speak up and latch herself to the mission. He has no idea how many kids there are, and he only wants to make one trip. He also looks to Delia and Jaiden before he adds, "Anythin' not fallin' int'uh the category of your run-uh the mill supplies, you just let me know. I can see what I can do for you, but I can't make any promises." His hand twists around the walking stick in progress, and he thumps it once against the floor. Another week here isn't what he'd planned. Getting away, if only to come back is probably the best thing he can do. With a sigh, he nods and starts to lower himself again, ceding the floor once more to Eileen. "Damnit, Pey," he mutters under his breath, but loud enough that should the clarivoyant happen to be listening, she'll hear him and the longing in his voice as plain as day.

Torchlight makes for middling brights and dark darks, shadow pitched in thick in the spaces between smears of yellow and orange.

It's in one such band of sooty blackness near the back that the shape of a man resolves where there wasn't one before. Straight across the shoulders of his suit jacket but not particularly tall, he'd be easily lost if not for the warm gloss of his balding skull in what little light there is over the matte coals of his eyes.

Even in a crowd of refugees as eclectic as this one, Vincent Lazzaro doesn't quite belong.

Ordinarily the perky auburn-haired Samara would be happy at the introduction, but thanks to Brian she knows she will forever be known as Sam-Eye, a silly nickname based on either a misunderstanding or good natured ribbing, but she hadn't the voice to press one way or the other. She shoots him a distinct scowl — she is a ghost — although it only lasts a moment. Soon enough she's just shaking her head in good humour. Sam-Eye, it's almost fitting for a girl that can see others and but can't be seen.

So now, Raith is no longer the sole head of Special Activities. In a lot of ways, this is a good thing, because now they can perhaps more effectively deal with what they need to do. Of course, this also means that grabbing Ryans after the meeting is all the more important. With the slightest sliver of a smile, Raith sends a knowing glance to the other Spec Act director. We're partners now, buddy.

When Smedley talks about getting supplies, Nick's eyes dart that way, and he looks like he might speak, might offer to help, but his time is not his own. Once it's safe enough to leave, he'll go to check in with work — if he still has a job. For now he'll do what he can to help patrol the island here, and earn his keep.

Huruma absorbs the following doses of news with varying degrees of acceptance. Some things she knew, some things she fully expected to hear mentioned, some things are brand new in terms of rumor and fact. She only half knows what she is meant to do here- after what Eileen says, it may happen to be that she is effectively a ward while she stays here. A ward of the council, in particular, and perhaps in parallel, Ryans is now equal to her handler. It's fitting that he be appointed, no less- and she can feel his surprise. Huruma is surprised that he is surprised, turning her head and ticking an eyebrow up. She leans over to mutter virtually in his ear when he pauses as he does, stunned by his sudden journey to council on the people he used to hunt.

"Don'be so shocked. You know deep down you were a shoe-in for th-" Huruma's words cut off abruptly, her air cutting sharp back into her windpipe. Her head swivels like a bird of prey towards the back of the room, the movement more prominent the closer people are to her. Once they follow her line of sight, there is a strange, bald man on the end of it. Huruma doesn't know him, she doesn't know if the rest do- but when someone coalesces right into her field, whose presence she thought may have been one of the crowd- and obviously isn't- it sets off way too many bells. In fact, she's now wading through the ferried towards Vincent at the back. Quite possibly on accident, several of the people she has to brush past skirt out of the way, fear bubbling as Huruma gets too near.

Well, the guard dog cat found something, now what? He's small, maybe she'll just swallow him whole. As a favor. Really.

At first, Lynette can only blink when her name is tossed in. It's a very genuine 'what, me?' moment. Even if there were opportunity to reply, she would have needed a moment to figure out just what to say. It is possible she's grateful that Eileen skipped that part altogether. But she does not seem unwilling to take up the position. She does glance to Ryans after a moment, a crooked, but pleased smile on her face as she lifts her hands for a silent clap for his assignment.

When Vincent makes his appearance, she looks, but it's just something else she doesn't have a comment on. Her gaze, instead, travels to Eileen, to watch.

Hannah shrugs the hand from her shoulder and steers a smouldering look in Howard's direction. "Don't call me that," she says, but there's no fight in her tone. Her eyes flick back to Benji, her expression softens, and she adds to both in a very low voice, "C'mon, Howie. Ben. I don't know about you, but I've heard all I need." She starts to move off, gently but firmly shouldering past those in her way, and while she might not be very tall she has a solid build that lends her more of a physical presence than the softer-spoken of her two companions despite the dramatic difference in their height.

There's a glimmer of gold at her throat, which she tucks down the front of the shirt she wears beneath a worn leather jacket, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and as she passes Kaylee her brow knits with concern for the younger woman who should be confined to her bed but isn't.

She misses Huruma carving a path through the crowd and those nearest to her shrinking away as she brushes past, but Eileen — or, more accurately, the grackle on Eileen's shoulder — does not. Whatever she might have been about to say, whatever concerns she might have attempted to allay, are put on hold while the bird's glittering yellow eyes track the giantess, then skip ahead of her in an attempt to project Huruma's final destination.

It's a good thing, she decides, that Tasha isn't here. Rather than cry out, her silence calls the room's attention to what Huruma is doing; she won't interfere until she's certain she knows what that is.

Glancing at Huruma when he words stop, Ryans' gaze follows her's and he goes still. Even as the dark woman starts parting the waters, blue eyes narrow at the one thing that totally does not belong there. The old man, doesn't hesistate to usethe wake she creates he follows her, until he reaches the suited man. He starts to reach for Vincent but comes up short.

Ryans hand curls into a fist, but his other hand rests on one of his glocks, but doesn't remove it yet "Lazzaro?" There is an edge of distrust there, but rather then acting first in this case, he growls out a question, "What are you doing out here? DoEA doesn't belong out here. Last I saw you… you were one of them."

First Huruma, then her own father, Delia's eyes follow the both of them until they settle just ahead of her father and only Mister Lazzaro. Her bright smile at the sight of him wanes and then turns to a grimace of confusion and then a little bit of stubborn anger.

Jumping out from her position, she speedwalks over to where the bald man is standing and gets between him and her father. "He's here because he brought me here. He got me to the boats and away from… those other guys… after I got caught." Her jaw clenches and she crosses her arms over her chest, pursing her lips into a thin line as she stares up at Benjamin. "He belongs here as much as you do, Dad. Maybe even more."

"Huruma.." Lucille says under breath and she inches forward until she's weaving in and out of people to, making her way over to her family. Moving faster as her sister and father get involved, she's not sure exactly what's going on, but she's gonna be right there if they need her. She watches intently her father as he goes for his glock, quickly looking to Delia as her younger sister speaks.

The older sibling comes to stand next to her sister. Supporting her silently, if she says this man saved her sister.. then he damn well does have a right to be here. She gives her father a level stare with a raised eyebrow, hands in her pockets. She whistles innocently.

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