She obediently pushed the door open and poked her head in, dark hair pulled back into a tidy braid (though a few stray wisps were escaping the tie). Nadia wondered if the woman knew who she was—but even if she did, the polite thing was to do it officially. And maybe, hopefully, feel a bit less like dead weight on this shelter.
“Hello, miss Hunter? I just wanted to introduce myself.” There it was, that overwhelming feeling of being an imposition, a bother, when the leaders of this shelter had so very much on their minds. But Nadia had summoned up a reserve of the stubborn strength that had carried her up half of this continent, so she stepped in and mustered a smile.
“I hope I’m not disturbing you. I’m one of your new—” relatively new, at least, “residents. Nadia Costa. Savannah brought me in from the gas station about a month ago. Some of your men know me already but I thought it best to meet you, as I think I’m here for the long-term.”