Carolina shoulders up against the wall, trying her hardest to ignore a Commanding Officer's muscle memory. 'Sync' ready to fall from her lips at any given moment. Hand falling to her waist in search of a firearm and finding nothing. And Connecticut, the only thing she recognizes in this awful place.

"Pretty crappy job if you ask me."

Hawk eyes scan the lobby perimeter; bodies that move to will apart from their own, shoveling food into buckets and doling out drinks. They look uniquely, expressionlessly miserable.

"Think they'd point us in the right direction?"