Open
The psychic ripples of the attack seemed to be fading, leaving only a lingering watercolour stain on the astral plane, which was good as it meant she could allow her shields to relax a little bit. The clambake had been a very good idea as it had allowed for everyone to realize some much needed stress and just focus on having a good time for a little bit. Betsy had enjoyed herself, though she had spent most of the evening sipping at the ancient alcohol and talking to the Agents Darkhölme and Henry alternatively. The rate at which they were collecting new faces was a little disconcerting, though. Betsy did not have a good theory as to why they kept gaining more people, especially if they were to believe that they were not being manipulated by someone, somewhere.
She was taking a stroll, considering just those options and how she should phrase her concerns at the next leadership meeting. The topic had been broached a few times, but she felt it was something that they should continue researching. It was possible that they would never have a clear answer, but that did not mean that they should ever stop focusing on something so important to their continued existence.