The nature of Rana’s connection with H.E.A.R.T. meant that having her face visible was a risky move. It was the usual story of keeping the work life separate from the family life, only work life involved aiding in the murders of others. Still, if it was trust they wanted, it was trust they would get.<br/><br/>During her winding, paranoia-induced route to the H.E.A.R.T. HQ that particular day, Rana had stashed her usual clothes in a duffel bag, and changed back into them before she entered the conference room. Today, she wore a slightly more yellow-tinted dress shirt (partially tucked in, and rather crinkled), a pair of brown khakis, and her loafers. Being in the room in that clothing was weird - she had always associated being there with her baggy clothing and ski mask, and now she felt naked and exposed without them. The difference between the two styles of garb was so incredibly vast that she doubted that any of them would’ve recognized her if she hadn’t set her eye color to the memorably vivid orange that was Iris’ only distinguishable feature.<br/><br/>She sat rather still during the speech, sitting up straight and businesslike in her seat in stark contrast to the headphones pumping old rock tunes from the 2000s into her ears. She could easily guess what she was saying - get to know each other, ‘cause you’ll be working together a lot more.<br/><br/>Rana took off her headphones once the woman left, and slouched a bit more in her seat. Her eyes danced across the room, absorbing (and, of course, digitally recording) information from her allies' posture and expressions. When George spoke up, though, she couldn’t help but curse under her breath in Arabic. She had been hoping that they could avoid first names. Well, since nobody else had spoken up yet... May as well get her identity out of the way, prevent some confusion as to who the youngster was.<br/><br/>“I’m Iris... Well, I guess you can all call me Rana, since we seem to be using first names now.” She glanced around the room apprehensively, her eyes inevitably landing on the newcomer - the person that didn’t fit Ghost’s physique, despite Ghost being unaccounted for. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you're new. So, who are you?”<br/><br/>She was nearly sweating in apprehension. Her cards were nearly all on the table now. They knew her face, her first name... At this rate, they’d know her social security number and her father’s career by the end of the meeting.<br/><br/>This was going to be an interesting and very dangerous cooperation.