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Evan was unspeakably thankful to have pulled pod duty with someone who had done this before. Bix's answers were brief and to the point, and it kept him free to deal with the squirming waker.

Evan's arms loosened around the girl a little, but he didn't release her completely. He would hate for her first stop right out of the pod to be the infirmary if she wound up falling on her face because she tried to stand up too fast. "Take it easy, now," he cautioned. "You've been asleep for a while. You should be okay in a few minutes."

Bix grinned when she finally seemed aware enough and let them see a smile. "We fight monsters. Real ones. Ghosts, demons, haunted houses, horses of the apocalypse.." When you summarized it like that, it almost sounded fun. "First step's to get you up.. get you to your room.. and then you go and bond with your weapon."

Bix stood up straight finally. "You get a fancy coat.." he slapped his own chest, the sun emblazoned clearly. "You get your division. Sun, Moon, Mist, Life, Death..uhhh is that all of them?" He glanced at Evan. "And then you're in like Flint." He didn't even know whatthat saying meant but he'd heard it a ton.

"Get ready for a life of insanity. Literal and figurative." Despite the horrible prospect, Bix was grinning.

Chelsea looked down at the hand around her waist with a raised eyebrow of amusement. "Quite the ladykiller," she teased, tapping Evan's square jaw with the tip of her knuckles, smiling lightly at his slightly flirtatious grip.

"Fancy coat? Sign me up all over again." One hand balled into a fist in solidarity. "So back it up like seven steps. Bond with a weapon? And by room you mean like an office or ...?"

If Evan's hands on her waist bothered her, she didn't make it apparent. Hot guy holding her? No problems here.

"Well, usually I try to keep them alive," Evan replied to Chelsea with a wink. Yeah, she seemed well enough to stand on her own two feet. He could probably let her go now. She didn't seem to mind, though, so his hands stayed put.

"Fancy coat and cool weapon are probably the best parts. You didn't mention the voice--well, I guess she'll find all that out soon enough," Evan trailed off into a mumble.

He flashed a grateful smile at the senior Hunter as he gave Evan the okay to leave. "Thanks, man, I owe you one," he said before turning his attention back to the new recruit. He kept one arm around her waist as he gestured to the door with the other. "If you'll come with me, I'll take you where you need to go."

Theron stretched his arms out, twisting to get the worst of the kinks out of his back and neck. He didn't even want to think about how long he'd been asleep in that pod; the stiffness in his joints was answer enough. "Amnesiac and on some remote island to fight. Sounds like the lead-up to a horror movie." At least the pods weren't full of monsters.

"I'm already overwhelmed," he admitted ruefully, running his fingers through his hair to try and neaten it a bit. There was a lot to take in, and Marcus' vague answers were only helping a little. "I'm assuming it'll make sense in a while, though, so I'm ready. Care to explain a bit more on the way?"

Something was crushing his chest. That was the first thought that came into Finn Connor's head when the smallest bit of consciousness was regained. Something was crushing his chest, something of colossal size and weight, pressing down against him, and he couldn't breathe.

He couldn't breathe.

He began to move, a mere twitching of limbs at first, a small grimace that barely turned down his mouth and made the tiniest creases appear between his closed eyes. It was an epic struggle, to fight against that pressure that would have him dying here, in darkness, his heart beating thunderously within his chest, his body feeling cold, but skin damp against the fabric of this clothing, sticking to it in a way that was oddly familiar....

....Yet he had no idea why.

The movements became stronger, as he struggled to raise his arms, to use his hands to push against whatever was on his chest. Eventually they got there, his muscles seemingly weak, and his hands fell on something smooth, like glass in front of him, and nothing else.

He pushed, with what little strength he had in him at that moment he pushed, and with a loud hissing noise of air he felt some give beneath his palms, and then a lot of give as whatever it was he was pushing against was suddenly gone, and he was sent falling out, hitting the floor, his cheek smacking against it's hard, cold surface. He gasped for air the second he hit the ground, eyes fluttering open, and then back closed again as he sucked in several deep, shuddering breaths.

A sound, almost lost to noise of his beating heart and ragged breathing, and the throbbing in his head that matched the pain pulsing across his cheekbone. It was a soft and quiet sound like singing. He was sure he had heard it, something which was again, familiar, but that he just couldn't quite place. Opening his mouth, he tried to speak, to call out to it's source, but all he could manage was a soft croak of his own, something that might have sounded a bit like..

"Here..Over here."

Footfalls. Vibrations against the floor that made the ache in his face sting just a little more, and his eyes squinted shut tight. There was a nauseated feeling building up in his stomach so he concentrated on that, on trying to make that sudden queasiness subside, because he refused to be sick all over the damn place, even though he had no idea what the ******** was going on.

A female voice followed the footsteps as they drew nearer, as his body was discovered lying face planted into the floor. For some reason, the thought of being rescued by a woman was repulsive, and he flinched at the sound of her voice not because it made the stabbing pain in his head worse, but because he really just didn't want this to be happening.

So, when she leaned down near him, her very presence almost suffocating, he very feebly began to protest, reaching out with a hand to push at her leg, "No." He grumbled. "No I can..." He pushed against her harder, lifting himself slowly off of the ground, shoulders rising shakily and legs moving, feet finding purchase against the floor so that his knees could be brought up beneath him.

"Just..back up." His voice was still rough and low, gravelly from disuse.

And angry.

"Back up and give me a minute."