[She didn't need to be called. In fact, Cornelia is on her way back from her morning jog. She's heading down the hallway to her room when she notices that the door is open and hears a few muffled voices coming from within it. A frown thins her mouth as she stealthily presses her back against the wall just outside, listening quietly. She recognizes her sister immediately, but the other voice, she isn't sure. It may or may not be recognizable, but it definitely isn't familiar.
Peeking inside, she notices the crumpled form of her sister, still in her bed where Cornelia left her only an hour before. And the boy -- he is that foul-mouthed brat. The one who was trying to break through the dome a couple of days ago. Her frown lengthens, the scowl extending until it creases her forehead. And her gun-sword is out instantly as she steps into the doorway, her shoulders hunching while she points the barrel at him, one eye closing in an effort to increase the accuracy of her aim.]