Having completed a significant portion of her plate, Zoey sat back and nodded at Wesley, putting up her illusion as a courtesy. She also waved at Travis, who smelled much better today. From the table, she waved at the newcomer, Wesley, and immediately felt uneasy. [i]He smells like a Witch-hunter. What a fantastic plot we've stumbled into. The church, the academy, and now the hunters. I suppose I should be thankful my allies are, for the most part, known threats. Still, Nemo is anomalous. About the only thing to smell around him is blood, gunpowder, and death. Then there's the Yakusa priestess over there, and shadowling sitting near by. What a lovely band of absolute chaos.[/i] She clears her throat, "Zoey, sir. I wish it were a pleasure but, to put it mildly, you make me uneasy." She gets up and takes her plate, "You smell like trouble. Less trouble than Nemo. But trouble none the less."

As she left to go to the down stairs game room, it struck her that Travis was probably the person who knew her the best of everyone there. Why that thought struck her was beyond her, actually. She shrugged and silently hoped the booky didn't notice quite how tense the former Salemite had made her. [i]Definately former. Anyone from the 'hunters known to be here for anything other than slitting our throats is disowned and marked for death, probably. They don't screw around.[/i] She picked up the now-familiar gun controller of the zombie game and began running it, thoughts elsewhere.