Raven + Eric
“It’s admirable that you’re willing to put so much work into being a host,” Raven noted. “Since I’m sure even a lame party being thrown is enough to foster some good-will among the dissidents.” And there seemed to be plenty around Limbo who loathed the institution as it stood. Raven understood losing faith in systems like these, but so far, the Wraith Regiment had only protected people from her – so she was willing to give their potential the benefit of the doubt.
The dark-haired girl watched as Eric admired the scene. Admittedly, it was somewhat surreal, seeing this typically dank space transformed into something that at least resembled a club – even if the underbelly was still visible beneath the patchwork of a glitzy exterior. She supposed he had the right to be proud of it all; how many other people in the higher echelons of this program were attempting to make day-to-day life more enjoyable and less monotonous? Between this and the trip to the Washington coast, it was almost as though the Wraith handlers were striving to make this place more livable, less boot-camp.
“I don’t know,” she responded when he raised his glass and winked at her. Raven crossed her legs and took a sip from her own glass. “You might not have to recruit or enlist anymore; you might have people lining up to enroll if they knew there were parties with foam machines and free booze.” Hell, even non-Supers would be throwing their hat into the ring for a job if it meant access to those things, too.
“A surprise, hmm?” She clicked her tongue. “Not even a hint? Decorating scheme, Irish buffet options, green Guinness’s…? Enquiring minds need to know, Mr. Hawthorne.”