Connie glances over to the spare bed on the other side of the room, making a mental note of the armour piece lying on the barely ruffled sheets and the change York's language. 'It', huh? It leaves a bitter taste at the back of her mouth, but then again, so does the memory of Delta's wires forcing their way in to try and bring her into the fold.

"Some space is probably best. I think we all need it."

Whether they'll get it is another matter. In Freelancer they could usually go lick their wounds and deal with their failures on their own without an audience but with the Legion? How are they supposed to deal with people and masses wanting to know everything about what they do?

"...This was a real shit show."