Welcome to Gaia! ::

Her jaw was set firmly, her mouth a thin line of concentration. Hands braced against the ceiling, feet against the wall, she clung to the corner like a spider upon a cobweb. Aila was not sure what had possessed her to perform such a stunt - perhaps a simple curiosity as to whether or not she was still capable of the feat on a moment's notice - and after a spending a few minutes uncomfortably wedged into the cranny, she descended, satisfied, and wiped a fine mist of sweat from her brow. A hallway in the commons probably wasn't the best place to perform such impromptu acrobatics anyway.

She had not detected the young woman's approach, and her sudden words startled her. She turned to face her company and narrowed her eyes only slightly at the recognition that struck her. Short and pink-haired: It was a description she frequently overheard in the hall containing the trainee and grunt dorms, usually in the same context as an angry rant or a quiet fit of sobbing.

If nothing else, she knew the design of the gloves. They were the same she had seen on both Seth and Nadja, indicating that this person was either an Elite Agent or an audacious Rocket of lower rank. Better to be safe, she decided as she straightened her posture, casting aside all jest that tempted her at the Aipom comment.

"I offer my apologies," she said in a level voice. "I am familiar with the training facilities, but it did not cross my mind to visit them. I apologize once more for my impulsiveness." A bow concluded her explanation to further emphasize her regret for her actions. She was doing a number of things on impulse recently. Perhaps being within the confines of the headquarters' walls was weaning her from the distrustful caution that had been so innate to her during her life in Camphoreon?

'Fresh meat,' Aila felt, was probably a good term to describe others' disposition towards her, or perhaps towards all trainees in general. The rank as a whole garnered little respect regardless of skill level, though the girl was fortunate enough to be unmoved by the derogatory terms and actions used against her; those that reacted, she had observed, were prone to becoming marked as targets of ridicule and pranks.

"Ah-" Her arm snapped up perpendicular to her body, elbow folded in for her fingertips to reach her brow. "Please pardon my poor judgment. I have no excuse." She had read about salutes when studying hierarchy but had, prior to this meeting, encountered none that enforced the use of gesture. Bows and curtsies had been sufficient enough in addition to being habitual as a result of her mother's teachings. She had a nagging desire to correct the elite's assumption about her previous living conditions but decided against it. She appeared agitated as it was, and Aila felt it unwise to try and correct her analysis.

"Understood," Aila affirmed, moving at a speed somewhere between jogging and walking to catch up with the departing elite and slowing to match her pace upon reaching a position diagonally behind her. In truth, she might have gone to one of the training rooms even without the girl's prompt; if she was feeling daring enough to ascend to the ceiling on a whim, surely it implied she had some extra time and energy to burn.

Ironically, this short, pink-haired girl represented everything Aila had expected of a crime syndicate as infamous as Team Rocket and had so far failed to see from a vast majority of the members: strict, concise, and imposing. She had met so many gentlemen and kind strangers that she had been beginning to worry that this branch of the organization, like so many in the past, would be doomed to meet a similar demise to those of the past. The skillful display of the knife on her fingers, though, assured Aila that this individual had no intent of letting such a thing come to pass.

The absence of chit-chat was appreciated. Small talk was awkward and uncomfortable, and Aila had always felt it strange that people would speak for no reason whatsoever. Upon arriving at the training facility and hearing the elite's order, the girl nodded, "Yes." She face the wall, took a few backpedaling steps, and started forward in a burst of speed. She used the momentum to bring herself as close to the ceiling as she could manage, then dug in her heels and folded her knees, pressing her hands against the ceiling for the tension she required to stay suspended there. Slowly and with sure movements, she turned herself around so that she faced the expanse of the room and the elite within it. Breathing slightly more heavily than before she ascended, she regarded her superior with eyes awaiting evaluation.

Beads of sweat formed on her brow and a distinct soreness arose in her legs and upper arms during the minute of silence, but she would do everything to remain in that position until she was either granted permission to descend or until her body could no longer stand the strain. She heard the question and drew in a breath, exhaling slowly to steady her voice for a reply.

"Infiltration or reconnaissance," she answered curtly. Those were the two areas she felt were her strongest, and while she would do whatever was asked of her, she would prefer if she could work in a department for which she already possessed some skill.

Aila blinked somewhat disbelievingly. She had been concentrating her studies on a number of generalities and had thus far failed to actually look into the department she wished to join. What a fortuitous encounter that she should meet its head. "I would be honored if I could be granted place there." Her instinct was to bow - or perhaps salute? - but her circumstances prevented such displays of gratitude.

A swift nod of her head indicated her understanding of her need for further training. Her magnificent loss against Seth on first encountering the man and her failure in the museum were testament enough to that fact. And speaking of them museum... Aila cringed only slightly. She remembered hearing gunshots and recalled the loud crash that facilitated her escape that night. It had worked out well for her in that she was able to easily evade discovery, but if she was going to come out empty-handed either way, it would have been better if she had not caused such needless destruction in her wake.

"I must offer my apologies," she attempted to re-situate herself more comfortably, but there was little she could do. "Had I known I would be sharing the museum that evening, I would have acted with greater discretion." An entirely covert operation, she had decided in forming her plans for the night, would have been impossible while acting as an individual. Her only choice was to create the distraction that would allow her access to the Blue Orb relatively unnoticed. She had not expected to contend with her future employers and coworkers that day.

Aila jerked away instinctively as the blade approached her, collapsing her supporting limbs and bending her knees to absorb the impact of the landing. She rose into a somewhat defensive stance; amid any other company, Fleur would already be at her side dispensing some obscene amount of Sleep Powder. The girl noted the small cut of her uniform and was glad to find her shoulder intact. The fabric would have to be mended, though.

"Understood," she replied, meeting Kunai's green eyes with her own pink. She had never expected to be excused from anything on the grounds of an apology - at the end of the day, they were merely words, nothing more. The elite's violent reaction, however, put things in much clearer perspective.