Aibhlinn frowned, unable to stop the sudden feeling of frustration getting the better of her. It seemed as if no one was in the mood to start making sense of any of this, they were still undergoing the shell shock of their drops. But could she really blame anyone of them? Her hands hadn’t stopped shaking since she stepped foot out into the snow, and that wasn’t only due to the cold or the likely concussion ringing in her ears. Not only had their ‘employers’ delivered them a nasty surprise, the survivors were stuck in the unfamiliar wonderland of the unknown; complete with the skyline she only photo-shopped inside of magazines. “Well Diane,” the explorer mumbled to her dead ‘friend’. “Looks like I’m on my own.”<br/><br/>The younger kid and the unenthusiastic American were occupied with a survivor in another cubicle. It gave Aibhlinn a sense of encouragement, but little hope. She moved onto Cubicle #7, stuffing the MOBA and photograph belonging to Diane inside one of her cargo pockets. Maybe this time she would have a little more luck than a cold corpse staring at her with unjust accusations for their demise. “This is why I prefer tombs. The dead have more interesting things to say. Come on, Lass. Let’s see what’s behind door number three.”