Cyrille was indeed amused by Ash's answer. She most definitely took inspiration from Cyrille's grandiose acts instead of her signature dry sass. Waiting for her to finish, watching as she hugged his arm, pushed him away and glued her eyes to her phone all in a smooth single motion, Cyrille instantly broke out laughing. He inched over, closing the distance and ruffling her hair similar to how he did the morning of their mission briefing. "You're a riot, Ash. Never change". One of the rare moments that he was satisfied with something someone else said.
Giving her some space after his drawn-out provoking, he watched as another third of their group of misfits joined the two. Kasmir, a more-or-less pleasant individual, and his partner, a deafening contrast. While amusing with a side of popcorn, dear Lyle can get on his nerves at times. Too tired to act, and curious to see how this interaction will play out. He watched as Ash was approached and hit-on almost as natural as a warm breeze sweeping through the air. As Kasmir approached the now 3 and making a group of 4, Cyrille waved as he bowed before them. What a spectacle, and he thought that Cleo was the actor.
"Yeah yeah, how's it been? Keeping your weapon on a short-leash?" Responding a bit dismissively in the form of light-hearted banter, the group had some time to exchange brief small talk before an attendant droned on sluggishly.
"Now boarding..plane D42."
Bringing the handle out from his luggage and rolling to the beginning of the line, he waited, spoke with the ticket-taker and quickly boarded the plane. Lord Death got them first-class seats, but no amount of bribery can remedy Cyrille's dread of flying. As the group of 4 made it to their seats, he focused onto Lyle before speaking as they all placed their luggage in the carry-on. "Wanna trade seats? An all-expense paid date with the woman of every man's wildest dreams." Obviously sarcasm, he was talking about Ash after all.
Looking in the direction of the frantic scrambling, the last pair joins the fray. Cleo and Socie, how grand for them to make their appearance. He was hoping that they all wouldn't show up and they could all go home, but unfortunately, his teammates are as stubborn as he was.
Cleo was characteristically chipper today. Making up for the lack of enthusiasm exhibited by her new team was a rather impressive feat, overbearing, but impressive. Cyrille considered jumping from the plane when she mentioned the team-building exercises. Redhead found dead from 9 feet drop onto a plane runaway. No one missed him. Cyrille could see the news headlines now.
September 11 | 2018, 4 days after the meeting in the DEATH ROOM
11:34 PM
Bournemouth International Airport
54°F
10-hour flight and dreadful introduction exercises, a rather deadly combination. Cleo was that type of chick that you couldn't really say no to. He prayed that he would pass out from blood loss so he didn't have to deal with this, but the nurse told him that if he didn't stop biting his thumb, finger amputation would be in order.
Exiting the plane, the group moved to the main lobby where a multitude of tour buses and taxi services lined up to steal the money and time of unknowing tourists. This is what he and his peers were to onlookers., they were mere vacationers, seeing the sights and most-definitely not going to check the mysterious fog and the source behind it. Among the many signs, lay the symbol of the DWMA, a stylized skull that bore a resemblance to Lord Death's signature mask. An olive-skinned man wearing a Hawaiian shirt, also known as their ride was waiting near the exit.
"Hello hello! I hope all of you are ready for Gerain's grand expedition! I trust we all become good friends, yeah?" A thick accent danced from his lips, followed by a wink. He was most certainly not just an ordinary tour guide.