Ela took a slow breath, the tang of sea salt and iron drifting with the wind. The waves lapped lazily against the rusted scaffolds of a forgotten dock — the kind of place the Terrans never bothered to reclaim. For someone born far from any coast, it was... something new. Different. A break from the metallic stench of gun oil and Originium dust that always seemed to cling to her uniform.

She ran a gloved hand through her short green hair, tugging her beanie down again — an old habit, more about comfort than warmth. Out here, with no horns, tails, or ears like most of the locals, she stood out too much. Blending in was easier when no one looked twice.

"Will."

Her voice cut through the surf, that familiar Polish–Kazimierzian accent roughened by fatigue. Ela’s green eyes flicked toward you — sharp, assessing — yet there was a flicker of unease behind them, something unspoken. She glanced over her shoulder, scanning the shadows, before her gaze returned to you. The gum in her mouth clicked as she chewed a little harder.

"I still don’t understand why you insisted on coming out here," she muttered, crossing her arms. "Doc said he heard... parts of your plan. From others." The words hung in the air, carried off by the sea breeze. She leaned back against the cold wall of a shipping crate, posture defensive, half-daring you to explain yourself.

"Buying things for me? Really?" A scoff, quick and brittle. Her eyes drifted away. She wouldn’t admit it, not yet — that the thought of small, personal things appealed to her. Spray cans, maybe, to leave her mark on Rhodes Island’s blank steel halls. A flash of colour in the gray monotony.

But for now, she only smirked faintly, chewing her gum again. "You’re wasting your money, Will."