Georgie ran several fingers through his hair, a small smile on his face. The first few years of his life had been tough, with his ineptness at properly identifying the emotional setting of a room. Eventually he learned to mimic the behaviour of his father, crying when he was crying, laughing when he was laughing. The mastery of these cues took him years to decipher, and even years after to perfect the facial expressions that accompanied them. A fake smile, Georgie found, was exceptionally noticeable. A crinkle under the eyes was a simple mask for sincerity. This false sincerity was a useful tool as he listened to drivellings of sarcasm, smoking, and roll call. None were as eager, apparently, to share their true names, or even bother to mention their assassin handle. One angsty punk abomination in the corner of the room noted this dryly, to Georgie's amusement. The amusement, however, soon fell into boredom. This friend-making was tedious, especially since no one else seemed to be that interested in engaging with their comrades. Which was, in this case, quite fair. Georgie's father had always warned him about strangers, after all.<br/>The door burst open just as Georgie was considering peeling his own eyeballs. A tiny women strode with purpose into the room, visibly pleased with her own dramatic entrance. Her theatrical speech just scraped the threshold of obnoxious, and confirmed Georgie's suspicion that this woman was Ghost from the previous week. It was heavily apparent that this was a woman completely in love with herself. Georgie could appreciate that. She prattled on with lame jokes, pay cheques, and how amazing they all were at doing their job. His inner side frowned, a forgotten string in his mind being tugged in the most frustrating manner. The string lead to his memory, but in all of his travels he had forgotten what it connected to. He tugged relentlessly, refusing to let the thought go. Finally it gave way, and Georgie realized that Ghost reminded him of his father. How amusing. He stared back into the woman's eyes unabashedly as she scanned his face for a brief moment. She certainly looked nothing like his father, unless she were to grow a beard. Unlikely, but possible. Her first order and twisted expression spoke to Georgie's soul, pleasing him massively. He would have no problem working with this woman. The rest of the assassins seemed interesting enough.<br/>Georgie remembered one key event from last week. The task he had been assigned was to deal with some sort of weapon, that had turned out to be a beautifully crafted disk object. His curiosity was engaged, and he leaned back in his chair to assume a more comfortable pose before speaking.<br/>"So, that disk from last week. Can you tell us anything about it, or is that information too advanced for the class?" He grinned cheekily, eyes twinkling with hollow lights.