Eulalie tried not to look like she was listening to the others, whom she had never asked to nor aspired to be one of, as they inquired of Ellie about what it is they would be doing. Indeed, she was curious as well, but perhaps not with as much bated breath. She listened carefully to Red's accent, trying to place the girl's origin, and decided wherever it was it was further inland than she had been raised in. She made a mental note to inquire on her roommate's family and home parish when the time was available.
Devin, the Englishman, didn't have the sound of fashionable London about him, and she decided he was from somewhere rural, but not sure where. She always had a hard time placing Englishmen that were not from London. She could almost smell the fog on Londoners, and they were better dressers than Devin as well. Though, she thought, he would probably clean up nicely, should someone take the time to domesticate him.
It seemed peculiar that Sawyer, that rough American man who only an hour or two ago was so brash and forward, had become so quiet. Maybe she had put him in his place, and he'd learn to keep his tongue in check. Bien... She didn't particularly care where he came from, and wouldn't mind if he went right back to it. So far, the only American she'd yet encountered and found somewhat tolerable was Ellie, the poor spinster. She had to be nearly thirty, and no husband. She was pretty enough. Tragique...