Jolansia leans sitting on a old wooden chair as her legs are closely tight and her arms crossed, her service rifle, the propped against the concrete cold dark-grey wall, Jolansia's expression faint gazing all around the room particularly to the window, the window itself heavily frosted and barely seeing anything through it as a result. The room having a few wooden boxes of munitions, MRE's, and basic medical supplies, all lit by a single hanging lamp... The room itself having two steel doors, the first steel door leading directly to the outside as the slight gust of strong winter winds are heard seeping in through the cracks whistling the second steel door leading to the rest of the base