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[When the video feed first comes up, it's silent, and also not quite centred. Grell speaks for a moment, before realizing her microphone is muted, and depresses the button to correct the problem. There's an exaggerated look of disgust on her face; it's been nearly twenty-four hours since she woke up, alone, in her room, and it's taken her this long to figure out how to get a mass message out. She probably could have asked for help, but hey. She's stubborn.

Settling back into her seat, she waves briefly, without much energy, to the camera. The only thing that has gone "right," today, is finding her own clothes, in the trunk by the foot of her bed. She pulls her braided hair forward over her shoulder, before she speaks.]

I know some of you must think this letter is having a big laugh at your expense, right?

[Grell holds up her own, and then smacks it lightly back down on the counter.]

That's fine. Think whatever you like, and we'll see who's really laughing, won't we? In the meantime, I'm looking for someone. His name is Ronald Knox. Overly cheerful, with really unfortunate hair? He's got a ridiculous toy he's rather fond of. It looks like this.

[She flips the sheet of paper over, and holds up a terrible drawing of a lawn mower.]

We worked together. I have every reason to believe the both of us took a page from Ophelia's book, and drowned, during our last assignment. He was my responsibility. If any of you have seen him, do let me know. I'll be in the first floor dormitories.

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[ That grin, no matter how manic it looked was reassuring at least. It meant she wasn't an illusion but he had to see this for himself. So he's pulling his jacket off the back of the chair and slipping it back on. ]

Right! I'm just two floors up and I can be there in a jiffy if you'll give me a moment. Best I save the stories for when I get there. Few days in and already I've got a bit of a load on you.

[ And with a grin back, the feed's cut.

Of course if she listens, she'll hear a rather familiar lawnmower coming up and around the corner in a few minutes. Truth be told, the corridors make him nervous so he's been using that rather sweet ride to get places. ]

[So the boy does listen. Grell hears the sound of the mower much sooner than she anticipated, and quickly x-es out of her network session. She ducks into her room, to retrieve her chainsaw, just in case. She isn't entirely convinced there's any need for it, but if Ronald is going to be roaming around with his scythe, there's no way she'd be caught without hers.

The sound of her heels echo in the hallway, as she makes her way in the direction of the engine sounds, pulling the tie from her braid and combing her hair out with her fingers, as she walks. If there's anyone on earth whose opinion of her appearance really doesn't matter, it's probably Ronald, but if they're going to be walking around, she'd rather not look a complete wreck.

She rounds the corner as he arrives, chainsaw balanced on one shoulder. For all the world, one would think the whole situation was completely normal, to her. But the air of nonchalance is, in part, a front.]

Thirty-two seconds. Abysmal, really. Just how long have you been slacking off, here?

[ He'd normally go on foot but considering how the corridors made him uneasy, it was a little better to rely on his mower to get him places. She moved him faster and he could make a quick get away if he needed to. Specially during times like this.

But he looks up the minute he pulls off the ramp on the first floor. The grin on his face is an indication of his relief. It's her. She's here. Totally here. Not an illusion, not a front, nothing. It's. Really. Her.

He pulls to a stop though as they meet, one foot on the ground and the other on his scythe. ]

Got here as fast as I could. Give a guy a little head-room, mind. You rather I passed through the bloody floor?

I would have done.

[She says, with a slight huff. And a twinge of...anxiety, perhaps. Deja vu. Something between the two. They exchanged frighteningly similar words, on the Campania. A superstitious part of Grell wonders if the unconscious thematic repetition reaffirms her theory that they didn't make it off the ship.

Her hand darts out, to flick Ronald's hair back from his forehead. The manic grin tugs at the corners of her lips, again, as she does so. There's that horrible, overwhelming feeling of gladness to know he's all right. It's back. Oh, she could just about grab him and hug him, but she won't. She does curl a strand of his hair around her finger, though, and let her knuckles brush his shoulder, as she drops her hand.]

You look ridiculous, you know? No, first things first. Of course you know. How long have you been here?

Well that's you for starters.

[ He just can't help but tease from that though the grin dissolves into the smallest pout however at the flicking. Oh, but he'll let it slide. The relief is just as overwhelming so he'll let the flicking and teasing pass. Best bit was he wasn't alone. Not anymore. At least she was okay. ]

I thought I told you. It looks fine.

[ And back to the matter at hand. One hand rests under his chin as his elbow is right on his mower's handle. The other hand is drumming lazily on his arm. ]

Been here a couple of weeks, give or take. Can't really tell. Haven't really been arsed to keep track.

[ Straightening up now, all slights against his hair forgiven and swept away. ]

But you! Look at you! You're here and you're fine! Where's Mister Spears gone off to or... don't tell me he didn't show up with you.

[Weeks. All right, Grell can roll with that. Wasn't she only just telling some troublesome human that time isn't linear, anyway? It can't be, when it takes a human life anywhere from seconds, to decades, to extinguish itself, but never more than a few moments to view the entirety of the thing, on the cinematic records. So if she and Ronald arrived here weeks apart...well, that doesn't really blow holes in her We're All Dead Here theory.]

Walk while you talk, handsome. It saves time, and I can't abide this hallway, much longer.

[She cuts him off before he can finish his train of thought, and is gesturing impatiently, with her free hand, when he mentions William. Her hand drops abruptly to her side. He's not here? But she'd been banking on that. It only wasn't the first question out of her mouth, because she'd been so sure Ronald would volunteer information about what had happened to Will, on his own.]

As if Will would follow me anywhere. Of course he's here with you. Don't be cruel about it.

[ In one motion, he's getting back on his mower and kicking it to start. It putters quietly a moment as he straightens up. One finger taps lightly on the handle at the statement. So he wasn't here. And he'd been banking on the thought that all of them were saved.

He's serious when he finally speaks though, his arms crossed at the wrists over the handle of his mower. ]

I'm afraid we're on our own this time. He isn't here. I've checked over and over, waited for the two of you to show. Any time now, really. He... he can't be...

[ He doesn't want to say it. As if the very notion would cement that very fear.

But he straightens up again, turning his attention back to her. ]

R- right. So where to, anyway? I mean.. anywhere's better than the corridors, that's for sure.

[There's a sick, insidious feeling in the pit of Grell's stomach, one that doesn't shake itself loose when she starts to walk, keeping pace with the rumbling lawn mower. The feeling is all the more uncomfortable, for the fact that Grell doesn't often experience it. True nervousness? Deep, unsettling worry? They're usually things she can push aside, before they really sink their claws into her. But William is such a constant, such a solid force in her life, she'd be lying if she said she ever imagined it without him. The idea of not knowing where he is, or what might have happened to him...it's legitimately sickening.]

He can handle himself. He's got every little thing sorted, you know? If he's not here, it's courtesy of his own devices.

[Or so she wants to believe, anyway, and she says it as much for her own benefit, as Ronald's. And really, she thinks, Will's probably left them here on purpose, to teach them a lesson for mucking things up. If they did, in fact, muck them up. She huffs out a sigh.]

Don't ask me as if I know. You're the native~ of this lovely place.

[ There was no denying he was nervous when he first showed up here all his lonesome. The worlds were destroyed and he was saved. Him. The department's rookie. Not William. Not Grell. Not any of the senior reapers. Him. Why? He had no clue but seeing Grell here was a load off his shoulders.

Well, one load which was to be replaced by yet another. Was it just the two of them now? The only two reapers from their world left, if it really was completely decimated as the letter said.

But he wouldn't let it show. He refuses. So instead, he wipes away every trace of worry with a quick rub of his sleeve on his face before greeting her with the same grin. ]

Native? Now come on, I haven't been here long enough to be called a native! I suppose we can try and figure it out together.

Had the oatmeal yet? Heard you can't eat a bloody thing unless you do.

[ For her, he'd try and smile again. ]

[And that's precisely why Grell has chosen not to believe the letter. Part of why, anyway. Perhaps the foremost reason is that she simply doesn't like to take other people's words for gospel, especially when those other people are anonymous entities who have transported her fathoms outside of her comfort zone. But the idea of her own aloneness, that did occur to her, straight off the bat, and it's hitting her again, too, even though Ronald is standing right beside her. Two against the universe isn't many. Their profession has given her a better idea than most people have, of just how many souls it really takes, to make up the world. The idea that it could be just her and Ronald left is so immense, so all-consuming, she can barely wrap her head around it. And so, even though it does pop into her mind again, she pushes the thought back down. No. They aren't the only ones left. They're just the only ones here. Their world is fine. It has to be. It was just that stupid boat, and the machinations of one meddling former reaper.

Although she does think it would be an awfully funny joke, if the entire world blew up, and she and Ronald were the only people the higher powers saw fit to save. She chuckles at the idea, even though Ronald can't read her thoughts and didn't say anything funny.]

I have, and it was an experience I don't care to repeat. What a fine night I picked, to work on an empty stomach.

[She guesses eating prior to the Campania wouldn't have done her much good, anyway. The oatmeal would still be lurking, waiting for her to get hungry.]

I hear there's a library, isn't there? I suppose it's nothing on ours, but I've half a mind to see it.

[ Of course, the sudden chuckle causes him to tilt his head just so and scrutinize her just the tiiiiiniest bit. However, he's learned certain things over the course of his time with the Dispatch Department. One of those would be never to question what goes on in Grell's mind. Spontaneous thoughts were something else, after all. However, he can't help but utter the smallest "what's so funny?" before straightening back up. and considering her question.

A library... Romeo mentioned the library...

Another pause to stretch in order to get his thoughts together. ]

Well... far as I remember, there are a couple of them, right? One's on floor nineteen and the other's on floor three. Why there are two of em or what the difference is, can't say I bloody know.

Haven't really checked them out yet myself but I have it on good authority they're pretty well stocked. Doubt we'd be finding anyone's cinematic records on the shelves they've got though.

[What's so funny? Everything, all the time. But Grell just winks at him, instead of answering. Let him think it was something much more scandalous and unrelated than it actually was.]

And how would you know, if you haven't looked? This is the last time anyone sends you on reconnaissance. The first and last time! You've killed two birds with one stone.

[Not that anyone sent him ahead of her intentionally, but the point still stands. Whether it would be true in practice or not, she likes to think she would have been all over this place and known it like the back of her hand, within a matter of days, had she been the only one here.]

Nineteen is a better number than three, don't you think? Let's have a peek at that one.

[ And he'll just give a raised brow back from both that wink and the comment. ]

I'll have you know I wasn't being as useless as you let on. Been getting to know the others like us here, mind. Maybe not the kind of recon anyone would recommend but it's info-gathering anyway!

[ Read: chatting up girls. So he might not know the details of floors apart from the bare bones descriptions of what they are and where things are... but he knows some people at least. ]

Right. Could always start there. Either that or if you want to cover more ground, we could split up. You take nineteen, I take three. We meet up again for lunch and trade notes?

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