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Íroas sighed to himself as the debriefing came to an end. It seemed all was well with this new group. He wouldn't have to worry about one of them suddenly going "Ha ha! I was with MIRROR all along! Now you all die!". Or at least, not for now. They could be trying to infiltrate the ranks. Not that he could help with that. He was pretty sure he'd have to go back to the Nova Roma after all was said and done. So as it turned out, the United States was making an anti-MIRROR team. They didn't have a name, which Íroas thought was a shame. Granted, that sentiment probably just came from the fact the Romans being very dramatic across the board. Still, he would definitely suggest the name SHATTER to the Triumvirate when he got home. No doubt they would make their own anti-MIRROR team after all. They met all the old members of the team. One guy, and four women. With the new aboard that would be about nine members strong. That was actually a pretty good taskforce, all considered. "And that's our team. You've joined just in time to get to see the world, in fact. Now that our job at the centennial is wrapped up, we're being deployed to Novaroma. The Triumvirate's also in on our little operation - they were even kind enough to send the twins our way, in fact - and a few days ago, a letter arrived saying they have some intel we'd be interested in. Hope none of you are prone to seasickness." Oh, there were two fellow Romans here. He figured he should say hi to them, but he had a feeling that he might get caught up in extended conversation. That was not something he wanted to do now. Or ever. Looking around, he tried to locate some food, or something to drink, but in the end, he couldn't anything obvious signs. With a sigh, he called out in a polite and level tone. "Is there anywhere I could get food?" "Yeah, we've got a big pantry that's kept well-stocked here on the airship," John nodded, already getting up out of his seat. "In case of long flights, y'know? Want me to show you the way?" "Please, that would be most helpful." Íroas said, thankful for the help. "Sure thing." Gesturing for the giant of a man to follow him, John left the meeting room as well, wordlessly leading the way through the halls and corridors of Air Force Zero. The most socializing that happened along the way was the occasional airship guard or other employee passing by, who received a gesture of acknowledgement from John, but that was about it, until the pair reached a room with a sign over the door that clearly read "Kitchen." The inside of the kitchen was about what one would expect of a place meant to cook for large numbers of people. Not terribly spacious, but laid out efficiently, but with only one or two copies of each cooking appliance. And, perhaps most notably, a staircase leading up to the second story of the airship. "Sorry if it's a bit small for you in here," John shrugged. "We can't exactly refurbish the place, and going all the way up to the White House's kitchen just seems needlessly excessive. But hey, we've got the bigger fridge down here." Around counters, ovens, and mini freezers, John navigated the kitchen into a large walk-in refrigerator. Inside was all manner of meats, vegetables, beverages, and other perishables, meticulously sorted and quite well stocked. "Well, I'm used to that. The world isn't built for people like me." Íroas commented as he looked around the kitchen. "Is there anything I need to keep my hands off of? You know, some food they wouldn't want me to eat?" He didn't want to cause some sort of international incident because he ate some important dinner after all. "Nah, just don't eat anything that's got someone's name on it, same as any other workplace kitchen. All the important stuff for important people is stored up in the White House. Usually eaten there, too." "Gotcha." Íroas nodded as he looked around the kitchen. He managed to find a whole platter of burgers sitting on the table. It looked like a feast for everyone. However, all those burgers would probably be just enough to fill him up. Besides, he heard the legendary American meal known as the burger, and he wished to try it himself. Now he just needed something to drink. Opening the fridge, he carefully scooted his way in, making sure he didn't knock anything over. He could see a jug of some sort of brown liquid. The label identified it as sweet tea. However, a certain claim of this jug baffled the man. "Hey, did this really come from a cow?" Íroas asked as he lifted up the jug and presented it to John. "...yeah?" With a confused tilt of his head, John asked in return, "What else would come out of cows?" "Well, back home, cows produce beer. Or wine, if they eat nothing but grapes." Íroas explained. What a strange fact he learned today. "Huh. Weird." With nothing else to say, Íroas picked up the jug and the tray of food. He carefully walked back to the meeting room. He placed his food and jug on the table. He didn't really pay attention to anyone else as he picked up a burger with a single hand, opening his mouth and eating it whole. He wasn't ready for blast of flavor that assaulted his tongue. While he wouldn't call it the greatest thing he ever consumed, it was very good. He could see why Americans love this stuff. He threw another burger into his mouth before realized someone was talking. "And just like that, we're friends! Officially, I mean. Actually... does anyone here know their way around a fight?" "Kinda," "Hm. What about you three?" "Depends." Íroas answered after chewing. There was a pause, like people waited for him to continue. He did not continue.