When Waylon stood up and started to speak she eyed him skeptically giving him a look that stated eloquently:
Are you simple? Or simply provincial?
Cera clicked her tongue once against the roof of her mouth and turned her attention elsewhere. She doubted that Waylon's lack of enthusiasm had much to do with exhaustion, anyone that stated straight off the bat that they were 'proud to be (insert city, country, continent here)' was more than likely a true blue patriot... and her experience with patriots and their zealotry left her unimpressed and somewhat disappointed in the prince's choice of teammate.
I'm on punishment already. she thought wryly. Shoulda kept my mouth shut. She had tried, but the prince hadn't left well-enough alone. Too late now~
Her glances briefly touched each of her other teammates, eyes skimming over their features and missing nothing. She really wanted a quiet place to rest her thoughts. The day had been information overload for her senses and she needed some quiet time with a bit of uninterrupted bonding with herself. Alone.
'Alone' sounded so good right now that she actually sighed a bit. Just one night, she swore to herself, and she'd be in the saddle in the morning and ready to ride.
Someone say something intelligent... let's get this show on the road...
And there it was! The surly Brujah had a quick conniption which ended in an outburst. Cera sat straight up in her chair and smiled, one corner of her mouth tilting just slightly. From what she'd heard everyone here had had a pretty long day.
"Even we need rest, sir." She spoke. "What use is an army of half-dead... well... mostly-dead deader-than-dead wish-they-were-deader-than-the-dead-they-are... worn out vampires? Be as noble as you want..."
She shifted in her chair.
"... tomorrow."
