William stands at the head of the table. His PDA is set up to record. A pair of chairs are pulled out for the arriving personnel to sit in. The unique sound of Eva's light limp- tap-drag, tap-drag- indicates who's coming before she's clearly in view. The Timonae's expression is quietly composed as she stands at attention, saluting crisply. "Sir." Sirias enters in all of her redheaded goodness, a burning cigarette clenched between two fingers. Her mood? Bordering on something inbetween composed anger and annoyance. She still salutes like a good chief of security should. "Commander."