The post-match feast was a bit of a trial for Niassa, as after-battle celebrations always were.  She preferred, oh how she preferred, to sit and think over what had happened, to mourn the losses on both sides and meditate on what could be done better next time, but here as in the Brigade a victory meant food and drink and boasting.  She participated because pack meant a good howl afterwards, whether the fortunes gave a win or a loss, and she could just barely pretend that the feast qualified.  It filled the same role here as it had in the Brigade, allowing her new pack to wind down from their battles.<br/><br/>When Celeste stood to offer her praises, Niassa merely ducked her head modestly.  She had never really gotten the hang of the boasting part of the process.  The temptation to utter a modest denial of her own skills rose to her lips, but she swallowed the words.  If her commanding officer (the closest she was willing to come to embracing the idea of belonging to the massive Gator) decided to praise her, then praise she would accept.  Yet all the while her mind remained on the match and processed her own performance with merciless efficiency.  Mistakes.  Mis-steps.  Moments of hesitation as she fought to remember that here, there would be no killing and thus she need show no mercy.<br/><br/>She had long since come to peace about her failings as a soldier, finding the hunting for bounties preferable.  And here?  There would be no wasting a kill.  That was an odd source of comfort.<br/><br/>Almost too late she realized the others were rising and heading upstairs.  Draining her cup, she rose to follow...eyes lingering on the pert bottom of the smallest member of her new pack, a tiny Fox who seemed to prefer tinkering with small machines of her own design to just about anything else.  A nice, long, hot bath sounded like a wonderful cure for her own state of mind...even if there were males present.  She shuddered.  That was one part of this arrangement that she really did not care for.  Not at all.  Being the Croc's personal plaything was odd enough.  Tolerable.  But to be a vessel for males?