"Strange enough to kick back in a railcar in the middle of the night." Ripley jokes back, a smile cracking wryly onto her face. "Surname's fine."

She hasn't been called 'Ellen' in what feels like a millennia, namely by her parents and what few friends she'd made back in school. Residents of the Hollow throw it around here and there, and every time she feels it settle oddly against her skin. Too formal, somehow. A blouse two sizes too small.

She takes a seat beside CT rather than across from her, her work bag slouching, abandoned, in her old spot.

"I hear you. Funny how the top dogs are always the worst for the job. How they weasel in and ruin everything. I had a good captain. Calm, great leader. but him and everyone else decided to listen to reason when it was too late. Hard to fix things that way."

Hard to concoct plans when no one listens.