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Namira
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Null sheen.
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Great, people.

After what had gone down at the cottage, Rosa really wasn't too thrilled at the idea of getting tangled up with another group. It had proven pretty damn clearly that when little bunches like that assembled, things went to hell in a handbasket fast. One person that Rosa wasn't sure about was hard enough to deal with, keeping her eyes on three wasn't exactly her idea of fun. Call her overly edgy, but there were only a couple of people that Rosa would have felt comfortable turning her back on at this juncture. Two of them shared her surname. Ily and Frankie... god, how were they dealing with this?

Perhaps the positive to seeing new people was potential information about Rosa's triplets (which reminded her that the new arrivals had forestalled Madelaine's reply...). All the same, the chances of that seemed relatively slim. Whatever they could tell her would probably be out of date anyway. Directions from others would only give her a vague location at best.

This new pair of guys, Rosa actually recognised, which she supposed was one pro of being such a socialite. Neither of the boys were really anything more than passing acquaintances, but at least she could put names to the faces. Rashid Hassan, Harun Kemal (who, for some reason, wouldn't look at her. Interesting). Still that was about all Rosa could bring to mind. She didn't know much of importance about them, which meant things remained ...guarded. Naturally, there was a world of difference between knowing somebody and being able to nod your head and saw they wouldn't stab you in the back or hurt you. That was something that Rosa knew from back home in Minnesota. Knives included.

Rosa was about to ask a wary question, but the announcement picked that moment to start up. Rosa's heart began to hammer, and as the sadistic host began to rattle off the list of those that had died on the second day, the Fiametta's ears strained. She hoped, prayed that she wouldn't hear...

Not Ilario or Frankie... please not Ilario or Frankie.

Except then, something more immediately pressing came up. The snickering voice of Danya referenced Madelaine Smith. Hoshit. The girl she was standing right next to was called Madelaine. It didn't take a master mathematician to put two and two together. She'd killed somebody, she was standing three feet away from a fucking killer with a fucking gun Rosa reacted in the most logical fashion her brain could come up with after a split second's thought. She wasn't hanging around to hear the excuse or the delaying tactic whilst Madelaine went for the gun, inch by inch. Rosa swore, spun around and scooped up both duffle and daypack, heading off into the woods at a flat out sprint, abandoning the scene altogether. She felt the vaguest tinge of regret at bailing on Rashid and Hassan, but not as much, Rosa imagined, as she'd have felt if she got herself shot.

Sorry boys... but you're the distraction. ...Best of luck.

((Rosa continued in How to Win Friends and Influence People))
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Calculations · The Woods: Inland