Désordre(Inv only)

The mess hall, a place for military personal to both socialize and eat. When one thinks of the word, perhaps the image of a cafeteria of sorts comes to mind, the the kitchen being pushed into the back so as to make room for rows of tables where people would sit nearly shoulder to shoulder as the ate. This one in particular was different in that sense. Rather than rows of rectangular tables, many circular ones were placed around the dining area. Normally, four chairs were placed around each, though at the moment some would have three and others five, the latter having taken a chair to accommodate their social circle.

A warm air drifted throughout the mess hall from both the cooked food, the kitchen, and as a result of the active people currently dining. The ambient noise of a multitude of conversations filled the room, the words of many folding over each other to create a the distinct noise of socialization.

However, roughly in the center of the dining area sat a lady accompanied by two empty chairs. She sat up in her own, what appeared to be a mug in one hand, its contents emanating a gentle flow of steam. The other held a folded newspaper, the girl's eyes mimicking the motions of a type writer as she read the printed words. Occasionally, her other hand slowly came to her lips, tilting back with her head to allow her to sip her drink. One might say there was an air about the woman, not quite an aura, but a sense of solidarity as she sat at the table. She didn't seem to passively come off as particularly hostile. Rather, she appeared to simply be content. Content with her current situation. Though, how might she react if someone were to invade that?