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Assembled on the table in the middle of the classroom were, collected, the following items:

Gauze, multiple rolls. (No comment.)

A pile of relatively straight sticks, rulers, and pieces of plastic from a kite assembly kit. (The actual plastic of the kites had been used to cover the floor in a third-floor apartment while she painted over spackle, and the string donated to an exercise on base that Kaatje wanted to know less than nothing about.)

Finger paint, all red, multiple tubs. (The rest of the paint had, with great ceremony, been interred in Kaatje's apartment. They were not high-quality paints, but Kaatje was only just returning to her old hobbies--she didn't need to go from occasional pen doodles on the backs of work orders straight to Winsor-Newton oils. Reeves tempura would do her fine. For now.)

She put a sign outside the door: Private Function: Entry by invite only. Then she settled down at the lectern, leaning against it because <******** the rules, she was off-duty. Today was, thankfully, gonna be a bit of a slow day: it was only right, considering their proximity to those, uh. Multiple. Buildings burning down. (Whoops.)

Kaatje propped the door open, and then returned to her post.

Tallulah had been sent back down to the parking lot to fetch the cooler and was only just now returning, rolling the ice chest full of capri-sun and bottled water behind her. "Finn'll be right up," she called to Kaatje, parking the cooler in the corner. Was Tallulah a little bit anxious about today? Sure. But she was also really excited to help out with boot camp.

"Hiya," she said, waving to Darran as she took a seat beside Kaatje. She could only guess at what the plan was with all the red paint - Tallulah knew her role here today and her role only. "Is this your first time to one of these?"

And, really, she felt a little bit bad for what she was about to do to everyone.

Lately, Laney had been trying this new thing where she attempted to make friends by actually going out and doing things that involved other people. Carmine had really been pushing her to socially branch out, which was something she found difficult -- but doing things in the context of knight or senshi functions certainly made it a little easier. It gave her an excuse to be there, in among strangers. It gave her something concrete to do, too, rather than just sitting around awkwardly, making nervous conversation. In this case, she was going to learn some first aid. First aid a little more useful than what she already knew, of course -- which was basically to pour antiseptic on anything, then cover it with a series of however many consecutively applied bandaids were necessary to cover the wound.

(In short, she needed to learn a lot more first aid.)

She arrived in the same outfit she usually wore when she was working with her self-defense instructor -- a simple camisole and maxi skirt. These weren't the most wearable clothes for romping around in, but she figured that was the point. Anything she needed to know how to do, she needed to know how to do while wearing a floor-length gown. With her, she also had a very large bag of Pirate's Booty, which she arrived slowly munching on. Fortunately, she had planned ahead and brought enough for everyone.

Giving away free stuff made people like you, right?

"Hi," she said to the room at large, trying to eye the people there to figure out which of them was in charge. "I'm pretty sure I'm in the right place?"

It would have been perfectly acceptable for Maggie Lawrence to have missed this particular Order Boot Camp. Cyllene had delivered a nasty fracture to her arm, and now she was stuck in a cast for at least a couple of necessary weeks... and then however many weeks after that she had to suffer through it until it didn't raise questions about how she possibly healed so quickly. Still, Maggie was determined to become a better senshi and loved the social aspect of this boot camps.

Not to mention she was more than a little frustrated that her primary texting hand had been compromised. Her phone was 75% of her social life, now limited. Un. Fair. Seriously.

There was definitely a touch less pep in her step as Maggie arrived. It was harder to dress herself these days so she was not as colored-coordinated or form-fitted as usual. She wore a loose t-shirt made to look like the top of the Pink Power Ranger's uniform and a pair of stretchy yoga pants. Her shoes were gray slip-ons with stretchy fabric instead of laces closing them. Styling her hair was basically impossible one-handed so she just had on a black headband, pushing back a partially-combed mane. Yeah. She didn't feel cute.

The cast itself was unfortunately a whole-arm number, complete with sling to make holding it up easier for the 14-year-old. The cast was coated in neon green, but the sling was plain white.

Slipping into the room, Maggie offered Finn a slight wave and then settled into a chair, which was bizarre. If only because she didn't immediately assault people with conversation.






Bo had not arrived yet. But would. Eventually. Currently, he was asleep in someone else's apartment with his face painted like a tiger, one half of the black whiskers smeared across the blanket alongside a puddle of drool.

The decision to attend the boot camp training had been an impulsive one on Marlin's part, but it didn't stop him from making the trip over to the location he'd been given. On arriving he'd spent a few moments in the parking lot, but as the address tallied up had eventually made his way up and past the sign proclaiming that a private function was on and that entry was by invite only.

The classroom had been unexpected, Marlin having figured that the boot camp referred more to the exercise rather than the lesson type, but he decided to roll with it, green eyes glancing at the tubs of paint as he tried to work out who amongst the people there was the organiser behind the whole thing. As he glanced around, Marlin thought he recognised one of the people there, Finn, as organiser behind the Knight rafting trip that had taken place not that long ago and noticed that the other appeared to be carrying a cat (Cora) although the cat was soon placed on one of the nearby tables.




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Although Arian carried a small first aid kit around with him when patrolling as his powered counterpart Athene, he didn't really know much about first aid beyond how to use plasters and the fact that antiseptic was good and dirt bad, so when he'd found out that this month's boot camp was going to focus around self aid he'd decided that he was definitely going to attend.

There had been quite a few people arrived already when Arian slipped into the classroom, a part of him wondering if he would have to register as he had during last month's boot camp. He couldn't see the tall purple-haired girl who had been organising sign ups, but he recognised Kaatje as being the person who had organised the previous boot camp and had made his way towards her, eyes glancing on the pits of paint as he did so. Once close enough he asked quietly "Do we need to sign up or anything like we had to last month?" Figuring he wouldn't know if he didn't ask.

Laney hadn't spotted Daran -- mainly because Daran was, at that moment, quiet and sedate, which was a direct contrast to Finn, who entered the room all hustle and bustle and good cheer as though he thought the party did not, in fact, start till he walked in.

Which Laney agreed it hadn't.

"Finn!" she said, lighting up, especially at being recognized and greeted. "Hi! Thanks for the invite!" Laney was proud of herself -- she'd managed to take an unfamiliar bus line and make it here successfully and on time, which was a much better result than what she'd feared would happen (she would get lost and end up learning 'first aid' from the people down by the farmer's market who sold the weird fish tacos). And Finn was here. And Finn had definitely said they were friends, so they were, and that was great.

And she was going to learn first aid, which she definitely needed. So today was going to be good.

Then, because Laney possessed a remarkable ability to outdo herself at sheer dorkiness at every possible opportunity, she held out her bag of rice-and-corn-puffs to Finn and asked, "Do you want the Booty?"

When Finn beckoned, Maggie smiled. She was bummed about her injury, but her great need to spread her social butterfly wings and soar took over. The chair squeaked when she stood, crossing over to her former partner and an unfamiliar woman. "Hiya," Maggie said, bouncing up on her toes for a moment. "Wow, you're pretty. Your coloring is, like, crazy rare. You're so lucky! Having brown hair is so mundane and blase." (SAT prep, thank you, she was practicing.)

Because that totally wasn't an awkward way to greet someone. Not at all.

"I'd shake your hand, but I got mine shattered by an icky corrupted senshi. Her name is Cyllene. Senshi of acid. Horrible blond hair with neon blue in it. If you see her, please punch her in the face while shouting my name. If you don't mind." Her tone fell to an out-of-place anger. The next time she saw the Senshi of Acid, Maggie planned to do just that. It could only be better if other Order folks were doing the same. "Has a bad guy ever broken your arm, Laney? Because it hurts a lot more than movies make it seem like it will hurt."

Awkwardness and Laney Sutton were actually pretty well acquainted. If there was anything overly intrusive (or effusive) about Maggie's conversation, it didn't really ping on Laney's radar; she was given to the same kind of fizzy enthusiasm when meeting new people who seemed to be even slightly friendly.

Maggie was more than slightly friendly. This was good.

"Oh, what, this?" she said, waving off her own hair like it was kind of a dull topic. "My parents say it's just, like, a kind of leucism or something, but I always kind of figured to them it was a kind of proof that I was definitely switched at birth with a more presentable child who probably makes her bed in the morning and bothers to fold her laundry. I mean, it's definitely unusual, but these days anyone can dye their hair any color, so it probably just means I'd be in real trouble if I dyed my hair any other color because I'd have, like, the worst roots. I think your hair's beautiful, actually."

Which she punctuated by fingering a lock of Maggie's hair admiringly between her fingers and smiling.

The mention of Maggie's broken arm was a little more sobering by comparison. Laney eyed it with a sympathetic pout once it came up in their conversation, and smiled wryly at Maggie's suggestion that she punch Cyllene for her troubles.

Of course, inside, this prompted a slight metaphorical cringe on her part. Hvergelmir absolutely could not punch Cyllene, or anyone else, for that matter, no matter how nasty the senshi of acid was or how many arms she broke. Not with her oath. It was just -- she didn't think it would be very considerate to say that to Maggie, who was the actual person with the actual broken arm in this situation. Laney didn't want to give the impression that she disagreed with fighting.

On the other hand, Finn was standing right here, and he knew about her oath, so she couldn't exactly lie, either. And she didn't want him to think she was, like, shifty, or cagey, or whatever. (It was one thing to be shifty and cagey; it was another thing for other people to know that about you.)

"Oh, I'm not a fighter," she said, leaving it at that. "And no broken bones or anything yet. But I bet Finn could definitely punch your senshi of acid for you. Plus, I mean, how much cooler is Pestilence than Acid? I mean, you have the whole four horsemen of the apocalypse thing, so that's like, definitely winning in comparison to her ability to make Harvey Dent references and have a tacky-sounding dye job."

She held out the bag of Pirate's Booty toward Maggie's good hand, just in case she was inclined to indulge.