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Stared at the instructor, a smile plastering over his face at the man mistaking his name. He just bowed his head to the man with that pleasant look on his face, oh but Seymour's disregard for his greatness burned him hardcore. No instructor at Trabia would ever treat him like that, and even some here adored him or held some sort of respect for his potential. But that man... he spat on that potential. Azazel stayed in that bowed position for some time before standing straight, still wearing the pleasant expression looking to Senna as she introduced herself to the instructor. A brow raised at the interaction between them and he shook his head, turning away.
(Tch... Lecher.)

When Harriet asked what a Flan was, the boy answered, "A flan is--" When he was suddenly cut off by the voice of the instructor. His attention turns to Hector when the man had entered, answering Harriet's question with a thorough explanation. Azazel closed his mouth then, and gave another pleasant smile. Looking over to the next boy who walked in, giving a nod to him. "Greetings. Azazel Gladstone." Pleasant look on his face still plastered there as though he were making it stick with glue.

Senna darted quick glances from Seymour and Hector, anticipation waiting in her eyes. The eldest instructor announced the name of one of his charges. Four cadets currently stood at attention. Three were left with the fearsome judgment to discover who will serve on the latter team. Butterflies migrated in her stomach. It was an important task to hear her assignment, then she can be aware of who she will be working with. SeeD protected first. Senna must protect her hometown. Patient in her anxiety, she listened and concentrated on the men to make a choice between the demure fighter, the lazy swordswoman, the cocky gunner.

As true as the blue sky hanging above the rooftops of the Garden, Tenaj's punctual attitude still lacked despite her transfer. This ineptitude may speak crudely of her character in the beginning. Her tendency to be prepared, however, overshadowed this one-time error. The cadets at the rendevous point are requested to locate where and how flan migrated to the town of Balamb. First years at either of the three gardens (who paid their lessons mind) digested the desirability of elemental means to defeat the gelatin beasts. Tenaj was what would be known as a buffer, serving no purpose of element-based spells; but her ability to aide those who are able to cause ample damage would fall in her squad's favor.

Wavy sea-green locks motioned in confidence mimicking the young woman's breezeless steps from the corridor to the parking garage. The ornate hilt of the gloriously colored staff peaked first at the cluttered group before a millisecond's pass revealed the hem of the black uniform skirt and garden desired footwear. Reeking of regal ambience, ethereal gems the color of shimmering blue topaz scoped out the seven souls. The candidate loosely gripping the non-modern instrument may appear as many things to their eyes. Petite in size and structure, revealing her specialty in the magical arts in her hands, and natural yet unusual hued features might give the idea of a nymph or possibly a elf of legend of some kind. Tenaj's--few--acquired admirers fawn and note her as a goddess-like beauty (stroking her semi-engorged ego). What she thought of herself and what either of the people in this drafty machine-ridden garage wouldn't determine passing this little pre-exam. It wouldn't keep her from looking and observing squadmates. She was a cadet and woman first and foremost.

"Sorry, Ms. Lambard for my tardiness. I forgot where the parking garage was located in the rush out of the classroom. I hope I can receive a tiny slap on the wrist for the hard work I put into attending your classes since my transfer." Like the soft patter of rain, the seventeen year old laughed light and brief as punctuation. For a moment, the female turned her eyes on the fellow cadets and instructors who seemed ready to leave through her perception. 'Hmm...Two sword users... Their arms and shoulders look broad. I bet they're strong~! I wonder what license the young male uses...as well as the one standing with airs of teacherly refinement. He looks familiar... The little blonde girl reads as a fist fighter--her demeanor kills my want to take her seriously. She's adorable like a doll. The girl looks like she rarely smiles. And last but not least... Hmm, he's a tall one. It doesn't seem like he own a sword, poo... Ooh~! Is that a gun I see?' Her eyes scanned Rory's waist to determine if her assumption was backed up. She smiled to herself and cut her evaluations short to hear from the woman in charge if her unsatisfactory arrival won't be held against her. If the magi must beg for her keep, (and earn brownie points on the side) so be it.

Harriet listened to Instructor Warring's explanation of the gelatinous creatures that they were to expect to encounter in Balamb's township. As his description made it fairly evident that her physical attacks would be not only useless but also disadvantageous, as a slice of Seelen Schlaeger clearly had the potential to result in the Flan increasing in number, her upper lip curled back a little in a dissatisfied but silent snarl. Was zum Teufel soll ich tun?* I don't have any verdammt magic attacks, I suck at magic. She ground her teeth a little, knowing that she didn't really even have any useful support spells, except for Blind Deference.

Harriet was considering asking what use swordsmen like her would be against the Flan when the ridiculously tall gunslinger entered the garage to join them. He said he was a cadet and Harriet couldn't help but smirk a little at the fact that he was taller than both Warring and Seymour, who she still thought might be an instructor as well. Of course he could be just a cadet, no one said anything about there being more than one. She decided that she didn't really care too much, she was already forgetting people's names...

Instructor Lambard suddenly entered the garage with a flourish and an assistant. Harriet's eyes drifted listlessly to the floor as the woman went on about... something, the mission? Harriet wasn't entirely paying attention. Her lack of proper sleep and overworked body were making her unusually lacking in aptitude - not that she was a particularly attentive person in the first place unless the subject was interesting. Her ears though were tuned enough to hear her name be called and make her drag her attention away from the toe of Seymour's left shoe and stand straight with a shudder. "Anachide, Harriet. Present." However as soon as it became clear that it was just role call and Lambard began addressing Warring and Seymour, Instructor Alistair, Harriet's attention drifted again.

When she heard Alistair claim Senna and the gunslinger, she assumed that meant she would be with Warring and the snarky boy with white hair, Az-something... it was something weird, like a Gothic name... hopefully someone will say it again before I have to. Yet again the doors separating the garage from the rest of the Garden opened once again and a girl with blue hair and very colorful staff joined them and apologized to Lambard. She looks like ein Schmetterling... Harriet thought, and wondered whether her hair was naturally that color or if she'd been allowed to dye it. Harriet had never been permitted to color her hair, despite wanting to in order to bring it down from its bright metallic radiance to something a little more neutral and benign.

The senior instructor turned her sharp, critical teal hues to the girl with the staff. The woman regarded her with her nose upturned like all delinquents, and surely Lambard regarded all students in the Garden delinquents until they proved their worth. "Cadet Tenaj. How lucky you are that you found yourself here. You are not late, but your squad leader did leave without you. You'll have to meet him..." She paused and put her hand to her ear to hear what was going on in the communicator she wore. "At the Balamb Hotel, he has secured the area. For now you will accompany Squad D until you reach the hotel." She regarded her clipboard again, "Everyone board the Taxi please, we certainly do not have all day." Turning away, to chat into the communicator as she walked off. The door to the taxi van was open and awaiting the students...

'You can do this,' the naïve youth coaxed herself, '...This is what you set out to do...' Adjusting her black fingerless gloves, the blonde spaced out to the world after the squads received their positions. Senna's intimidation of serving alongside individuals of the opposite sex was high, yet not as emotionally damaging as if Harriet was assigned to work with her, with the looming dark cloud of angst depicted in the form of subconcious comparisons. Attention strayed to the small woman and her demeanor and flinched forwards after the leading instructor assigned the staff-wielder to squad D until reaching the hotel. Her eyes danced about the ground, her motivation drastically shot for the duration of the briefing.

Senna didn't waste time boarding the taxi and climbed to the side nearest the exit. Porcelain legs tucked together to assure the next to join in would have room to sit. As a calming measure, the blue-eyed teen's rival fingers trailed the material encompassing the latter housed appendices. Looking forward, she waited for the rest of the group to board and kept to herself the entire way.

(Sorry this is short.)

Harriet groaned inwardly at the sight of her designated team leader producing a book as if out of thin air and quickly immersing himself in it, distractedly opening the taxi door and ordering everyone to enter the vehicle. Ugh, he's a literary type. This is going to be so boring, I bet he's like a walking encyclopedia... Unless he knows anything about swords I'm probably going to fall asleep working with him...

Her eyes were slowly returning to their default of glazed over and idly staring at whatever they fell on when the girl from the library moved to enter the taxi. The movement caught Harriet's eye like a twitching blade of grass attracts a cat's attention and she immediately perked up. Senna's a fighter, maybe she has some interesting stories. Of course they were on different team's but they were all sharing the same vehicle into the town. She huffed a little that the new girl, the one with blue hair, had snagged the seat right beside her, but it wasn't like that meant she couldn't talk to her.

Harriet sauntered towards the vehicle, not bothering with what would have been an otherwise acknowledging look at Warring, since he was clearly more interested in the text before his nose than in anything his cadets would be doing, and quickly slipped in onto the seat across from Senna and Neva, removing her scabbard and holding her Claymore between her legs. "Oy, alright? You're so lucky your gaffer's not an anorak..." It could have easily been directed at both other girls, as they were both on Alistair's team for the time being, but she then narrowed in on Senna and her eyes brightened a little, goading conversation. So you're a fighter yeah? Kampfkünste? You've got a gloves license? You don't seem that aggro... what's your training like? Is it fun or just hitting things - not that hitting things can't be fun." As it all just poured out of her mouth, Harriet had the strangest feeling that Senna would probably just ice up like she had in the library, or even faint in fear of the questions.

But that didn't change her tact. Harriet, even if she didn't know it, was notably generally tactless, but she couldn't be blamed for it - her father had never taught her anything other than how to take a hit, how to roll with the punches, and how to push herself until she could workout in her sleep - and her uncle, as best he tried to make a sensible girl out of her, was usually left with an exhausted nightwalker and had only managed to teach her how to cook for herself, and how to dress like a moderately civilized human being.

Flustered by the diminutive vixen's palpable elation designed to ease the injurious negatives from her mind, Senna averted her sight to the vehicle's flooring. The blood organ in her chest beat in modest tense palpations, filling her medium-fair color with the scarlet dye of red roses in bloom. In Senna's eye, the emotion worn on the magic-user's visage was bittersweet. Neither knew of the other, and yet the curly haired woman laid out a friendly air... Her subconcious mind thought her overthinking deplorable and deserving of a mental lashing but lessened its scorn when Azazel re-positioned himself in the forefront. The blonde still perched herself on the wall, wanting to trust him, yet she grappled with the wonder of what his true nature may be. Senna wasn't stupid, though she might as well confirm herself as dumb. Her allies in arms possessed an evaluation closest to the teen's personality. What if the girl at her side acted in an identical manner--?

Senna's vision hopped on the train of curiousity, trekking to Harriet's demotic conversational tone when her use of unfamiliar words announced that another person joined the taxi. Again, she tried context clues to determine what the woman meant. However, the talker's pause didn't give her enough time for contemplation. Soon, questions slammed her way, seeming endless in her opinion. The still flushed skin pale while she explored her thoughts for a good way to answer. How can she have Harriet's interest unwavering with explaining her world...of sorts?

Azazel paid the taxi a visit, taking his placement across from Senna and the girl called Tenaj by Instructor Lambard. Politely letting the squad members banter if they chose, the fighter missed the raised brows of a skeptical nature from her partner to her left (though Tenaj's curls masked the eyebrows she may have). She drummed her bared fingers on her lap until the voices died down. Thankfully, the youngest cadet blessed her with ample time to think. "Yes, I have a gloves license. It's kind of funny because I've been told that I don't fit the fighter mold... My training is fun sometimes... I think I'm pretty good with my fists--" She halted her moving lips at her half-prideful claim then continued after the crashing in her chest was stiffled. "--There's a lot of full-contact sparring s-so it isn't unusual to walk with a limp, bruises, and broken noses. It's hard work for any weapon though; but, basically, my body is my weapon so there's a lot of discipline involved than anything else." After completing her task, she exhaled an unknown held breath and ended her comments with something rare: a smile.