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Harrison looked pretty near traumatized at getting the stick.

However close he was to Caelius was too goddamn close to his hitbox.

That particular turn of phrase didn't come from him.

THE JOYSTICK IS OURS. Okay like, so, A. B. C. D. ....is there a points system.

Harrison tried not to imagine the two moon hunters in whatever bizarro dating game heart sim that B0nez used to keep track of their personal relationships. He was confused by the look Dakota gave him. Was he....did he know something? Know something about the meeting?

"I'm Harrison," he started warily. Could he trust these ********? What if this was some...volunteer your greatest weakness so those cult guys could use it somehow.

He didn't put down the plate of food down though, because even if it was poisoned, he wasn't passing up free salami. Not that he could concentrate on food. Why were Caelius and Allan here. Did they have a gameplan?

Okay say something really suave like, do you want to vidchat.

"I'm...not good at talking about, this s**t. Feelings. I guess I can be kind of a sap. Romance-wise, like, I like all the...holding hands, long walks on the beach..."

This was probably not what anyone was asking. He regrouped. Feelings. He did talk abut feelings before.

"Uh, right. So. When I get angry I want to stab s**t. Which is okay, we got...training fields and all here. But maybe uh, isn't great. In uh, other, situations. I'm not great with gadgets either, I think they oughta, make s**t, more simple but they keep on, making s**t smaller and putting about a thousand ******** buttons and then, when you touch one of them everything goes completely haywire-"

The longer he was in the spotlight the tighter he gripped the stick.

Someone should take the stick from Harrison.

Otto's eyes rolled in the back of his head as he endured listening to everyone pretend they were confessing anything. Rep's inparticular made his blood boil. However, worst off was Harrison. He wasn't shutting up.

"They said name a weakness, not a ********' narrative." He grumbled under his breath. He didn't wish to hasten his turn, but maybe it was best he get it over with.

Otto grabbed the staff from Harrison, huffing impatiently. "I'm Otto. I'm impatient, and I take everything personally." He then handed it off quickly.

Gale plucked the stick from Otto's hand with a vaguely exasperated expression.

"I'm Gale and I think too much," he said, and then passed it off rather quickly as well.

Shiloh rolled his eyes at Ian, his sentiments about this particular ‘sensitivity training’ quite the same.

But sitting down, Shiloh forgot that Ian and Lucky didn’t know each other, forgot that he had kept very quiet about things pertaining to his work, and Lucky had been one of those things. He gestured at the empty seat next to him, for Ian, and then set to making introductions.

“Ian, Lucky. Lucky, Ian.”

Then the stick was passed his way before he could say anything else, and Shiloh gulped. No, he could do this. He would be strong.

“My name is Shiloh, and my greatness weakness is that… Well, sometimes I speak before I think, and sometimes I am too quick to judge, when instead I should try to lead better behavior by example, instead of being petty myself. Sometimes I’m too trusting.”

He shot a pointed look at Lucky at that last part, but then nodded and finished his admission and passed the stick to Ian. He was pretty sure the whole thing was going to be an effort in futility with these people – no wait, there he was doing that thing he’d just pointed out as a weakness, judging people, not giving them a chance. He couldn’t know, and there was always hope, maybe it would work, maybe they would all learn to get along better after this.

And maybe, just maybe, pigs would fly.