Poppy squinted at him, considering his answer before she shrugged. "You're a tough guy for me to read," she said thoughtfully. "You have a kind of... archetype that you match, but then you'll say something every once in a while that completely twists that, and I'll be left trying to get a better grip on your character." She drummed her fingers on the floor next to her, her head slightly cocked as she thought. "I've been talking with you for the last week or so, and I've found frustratingly few tools that could aid me in figuring out what you are thinking on a consistent basis. So, I have to resort to asking you bluntly what you are thinking about." She paused and then smiled cheekily at him. "Also, I'm pretty sleepy, so I'm trying to keep my mind working so that I don't fall asleep. But that sounds much less elegant and analytical than the previous answer."
"So I have an archetype? Ouch. But, yes, I suppose I'm thinking about our situation. It's almost like a more tyrannical version of under new management."
Poppy nodded in agreement. "I suppose you're right," she said languidly, stretching her arms out to the sky. "Although at this point, I have no idea who is in control." (This is just what I thought of them. I can't draw, but I used Sims. Feel free to tell me how I could fix Francis!) Spoiler: Poppy Spoiler: Francis
"I don't either. I'm sure we'll find out soon enough." He covered his eyes for a moment with the back of his hands, thinking of what to talk about. (Yeah, that's basically how I imagined him! I can't see anything to fix about it.)
(Woot!) Poppy gradually lightly dozed off, her chest rising and falling steadily with each breath. She was caught in the moment between being asleep and being awake, and her hands gradually opened, closed, and opened again. Her expression was more serious than it normally was, her standard smile absent from her face and the sun that streamed in through the roof made her bruises pale on her skin. A noise sounded from below their tent, the sound of running footsteps and Poppy jerked awake, her eyes clouded with a fear that seemed too great for the situation. She glanced over at Francis, and relaxed slightly. "Is that them?" she whispered.
"Let me see." He moved cautiously out of the tent, peering carefully over to look at the ground below.
The scouts ran below them. Their tent was hidden up in the tree branches so that the scouts passed by without incident. "He's really mad," Francis would hear their breathless voices say. "Like, really mad."
Poppy was still for a moment, thinking quietly. She had a nervous posture, although she seemed to be trying to hide it. "When we were there," she said, remembering, "they said something about the others not finding anyone. There must be more than one camp set up. We'll have to be careful about that."
"They kept talking about their boss," she said, rubbing her temple. "He sounds like an intimidating man."
She glanced up at him with a grateful smile. "Right," she said. "We've tackled ambassadors. We can beat this guy up too."
"No," she agreed. "Probably not. I don't think I'd just be sitting up in this treehouse by myself having an imaginary conversation with you." She thought for a moment, her head tilted. "I wouldn't probably be alive either," she said thoughtfully. "That's.. unsettling."
