<div style="text-align: center">《 Anise 》<br/>
<i>Location: Shuttle pick-up location<br/>
Addressing: Kennedy </i>​</div><br/>Faster than Kennedy had gone, he was drug back and tossed into her brother. Anise put her arms out to try and steady them, then squatted down beside the man, hands resting on her knees.<br/><br/>"Are you okay?" she asked Kennedy, trying to understand what that was. "Are you going out of your way to push his buttons?"<br/><br/>When they stood up, she helped him brush himself off with light strokes of her fingers, picking grass out of his flannel. She returned her brother's gaze with an equally exasperated look. He was going back in, making it clear she wasn't going to stop him.<br/><br/>Anise was stewing. By not getting the weapon confiscated, or shot over it, she hadn't meant for her brother to hand it to Rachel, who subsequently handed it off to someone else. Someone not on the list at all. And why wasn't Rebel? If Sou was. He was helping now, trying to bring order to things, but she wasn't sure who to trust any longer. She didn't know anyone well enough to bank on anything they said. For a period of time, she'd made an effort to try to befriend Sou, although they didn't have all that much in common. Sou, in her eyes, was the picture perfect girl that was used to getting what she wanted. Dramatic, and high maintenance. Her energy made her anxious, and Sou's stories of Rebel were the extent of Anise's understanding of the man.<br/><br/>She hadn't particularly wanted the gun, but she had at least wanted to keep it in their possession. Ezra would need it for later, and Rachel was clearly terrified of it. Terrified people shouldn't have guns in their hands. It was why she had always left the shooting up to her brother. She'd frozen before in the face of an actual threat. She'd never been a good shot anyway, and she regretted the time she'd missed out with her brother and the practice he'd offered her. Too busy with her art, cultivating a skill that had effectively been rendered useless. Rebel said he he would get it back to them, at the gate, but she wasn't sure he believed him. Sou had told her all about the man's lies.<br/><br/>With her slippered feet, she climbed into the wedding carriage. The seats were red crushed velvet, faded some over time. Hale had been trying to find red upholstery dye to restore it. Maybe if he'd been looking for more food instead they wouldn't find themselves in this predicament. The man had known luxury all his life. Anise did not think he ought to be telling people how to ration, but that wasn't a thought she would have shared out loud. The cover to the carriage had been drawn back. It was a beautiful day, or maybe it was just so that visibility wasn't impaired if someone was going to make a target out of them. There were enough seats to sit six people if they were pressed thigh to thigh, and one so sit beside the driver, though he was looking to Kennedy with ire. One good thing came of Rebel at least. He had shut the driver up.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center"><i>
<div class="bbImageWrapper lazyload js-lbImage" data-lb-caption-extra-html="" data-lb-sidebar-href="" data-single-image="1" data-src="/proxy.php?image=https%3A%2F%2Fi.imgur.com%2FcIPtIkQ.jpg%3F1&amp;hash=25e034147460d93fb1e1a8523afbd0dd" title="cIPtIkQ.jpg">
<img alt="cIPtIkQ.jpg" class="bbImage lazyload" data-src="/proxy.php?image=https%3A%2F%2Fi.imgur.com%2FcIPtIkQ.jpg%3F1&amp;hash=25e034147460d93fb1e1a8523afbd0dd" data-url="https://i.imgur.com/cIPtIkQ.jpg?1" data-zoom-target="1" height="" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" style="" title="" width=""/>
<noscript><img alt="cIPtIkQ.jpg" class="bbImage" data-url="https://i.imgur.com/cIPtIkQ.jpg?1" data-zoom-target="1" height="" src="/proxy.php?image=https%3A%2F%2Fi.imgur.com%2FcIPtIkQ.jpg%3F1&amp;hash=25e034147460d93fb1e1a8523afbd0dd" style="" title="" width=""/></noscript>
</div>
</i>​</div>