“I’m honored to finally meet you, Commandant Kasshen.” She straightened, still smiling. “My name is Reiselle Bartlet... I’m your direct subordinate. I hope to be of use to you.”
Still in shock from his attack-by-prostitute-army, Catalin managed, “... this is... um... the basement?”
“That’s right.” Reiselle nodded. “The customers aren’t allowed in this area, so you don’t have to worry about that. Please, make yourself at home... and that goes for everyone else, as well. Though I would suggest you not go upstairs, for everyone’s own good.”
Now that the small crowd had spread out, Catalin could see plenty of people who’d pointedly not come to greet them, and a tanned man with a green bandana seemed to be attempting to burn a hole in Catalin’s chest with his eyes. What’s with this guy?
“C-Commandant, I’m so happy to meet you!” The youngest girl stammered. “I’m-”
“There will be time for introductions later.” Reiselle’s way of commanding the room was quite reminiscent of Victor’s. “I’m sure everyone’s tired. Vic, why don’t you show them to their rooms?”
“Huh? Oh, right.” Victor nodded. “What about Amara?”
Reiselle paused, and Catalin could see her trying to word her reply delicately. “Her Highness will see them later.”
“... can’t be helped,” Victor sighed. “All right, everyone. This way.”
Victor pointed out three small, undecorated rooms in the very back of the basement, furnished only by a pair of mattresses on the floor of each one. “Sorry, they’re small,” Victor said sheepishly. “And you’ll have to pair up.”
“Ewww...” Damian whined. “This one’s got a huge water stain in it... it looks smaller than the others, too.”
“That’s fine with me. Turner and I will take that one.”
As everyone turned to stare at him once again, Catalin wondered when he started talking without thinking.
“Will you all just... excuse us for a moment?” Chris said quickly, before anyone else could react. With a quick, shallow bow, he grabbed Catalin by the elbow, pulled him into the small, water-damaged room, and shut the door.
“What is your problem?” Chris exploded, throwing down his bags with a crash. “Are you touched in the head? Are you just a glutton for punishment or something? Why do you keep talking to me?”
“... what’s my problem?” Catalin poured all of his stress and exasperation into the words. “What do you have against talking, anyway?”
“Please, don’t play cute.” Chris tugged at his hair. “Who put you up to this? Victor? Damian? What, you’re supposed to keep tabs on me, report back with anything suspicious?”
