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"I'm in here," a voice called from a room to Candace's left. "Come on in, and turn the light on." There was a pause before the voice added, " And leave the door open, let's not give people the wrong idea. Just use the hook on the wall to hold the door in place."

The room itself was sparse with harsh white walls and a harsher white floor. The floor itself was clean -- made sense, as Lance's way to get around was with a wheelchair. The chair itself was pulled up next to his bed within easy reach, squeezed between it and a desk. The desk itself was where the mess in the room lay: papers were scattered haphazardly across it. Some of the papers were official-looking documents, others were diagrams detailing how different devices fit together. There were even a few books in the room resting on the bookshelf, however a majority of the shelf-space was taken up by various tokens and trophies from previous missions.

Lance was resting on his bed, pillows piled up behind him as a backrest. He removed his headset as Candace came in, hanging it on the arm of his wheelchair before he looked up from his laptop. The blanket came up to his waist and hid his legs, one leg much bulkier than the other. Lance was shirtless, his chest wrapped snugly in bandages.

As the trainee entered, he rubbed his scruffy chin while scrutinizing Candace. It was brief, followed by a nod before he waved her towards a plush-looking chair situated in a corner of the room beneath a reading lamp. "Come on in. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit...?"

The man openly snickered at Candace's reply. "Suuure you do, just like I have a pet dog kept at Outpost Kennel named Bleu." He shook his head and glanced down at his laptop, tapping a few keys.

"I wouldn't be, unless you wanna do work." He turned the laptop around enough for her to see. It was streaming what looked to be camera footage. Even while under bedrest, it appeared that he was still hard at work. Or was he? It was hard to get a good look at his menu bar. He could have easily alt-tabbed to the video footage to cover up his Facebook or YouTubing.

...Goddamn higher ranking Hunters and their toys.

The buzzing of the light overhead was loud as Candace took her seat, the bedridden hunter saying nothing as he waited for her to speak. When she did, he arched his eyebrow at her. "Thanks for the check-up, but... What are you apologizing for?"

"Blue-ribbon champion of duck hunting," Lance retorted proudly, a smirk gracing his features. "You're still rather new to how things work around here, aren't cha trainee? But I don't think our companions of choice are what we're here to talk about." He dropped the topic, running a hand through his hair and moving on.

He said nothing as she mentioned the death trainee, giving her a nod of approval when she informed him. That was good news; electronics weren't his strong suit. Hell, his desk was still covered with manuals and information regarding the weapons and devices he was still learning about for his Sun training. Didn't matter that he wasn't of that division anymore. It was a matter of pride to finish what he had started, even if it meant looking like a Death or Life hunter with his nose in a book.

When Candace responded, Lance stared. Then he offered her a shrug. "And?" He asked, "The bigger and more dangerous things make the loudest noises. It's the quiet ones that are the more dangerous." He shrugged again, adding, "Besides, the signal that was coming from the 'Tower zipped off once the other trainees were coming."

Lance glanced down at the bulk of his broken leg, considering. He couldn't hide the slight twist of a grin on his lips as he thought, tapping his fingers. Slowly he shook his head, closing his laptop and leaning back with a sigh. "She worries too much," he laughed. "A bang-up job like this isn't unusual for me. I've had worse, though I probably scared the hell out of her with how bad it looked. It's always the blood. The more you're covered in, the worse it looks. It doesn't even matter if most if it isn't your's; it's always assumed that it is."

He took a deep breath, considered, then let it out without adding anything more to the subject.

"Eh, good guess." Lance shrugged, then reached over and tapped his headset. "But whenever something like that comes up, having someone on intel to verify that saves you time and prevents whatever you're after from getting away. I don't think you guys have gotten an opportunity to use trackers yet." He paused, adding, "Then again, I think they're in the process of upgrading them. You'll get experience with them soon enough. Besides, I don't think Aria's issued headsets yet... then again, there hasn't been a need for'em, what with the advent of cellphones."

He fell silent, looking up and nodding to Candace in affirmation on both points. "Sun's are the front line. If you have a close combat weapon, you're going to get hurt. We're all about the offense; Moons are supposed to cover and watch our backs. If they move ahead, then we either push forward ourselves or watch their's in return." Lance laughed, jerking a thumb at his chest. "It's nothing big. You get used to it after awhile, and besides. Y'know where the infirmary is? You either heal fast, or get roped into a Life experiment."

His mirth faded as the topic changed. The sun hunter leaned forward, elbows resting on the laptop. "She has," he stated bluntly. "And she'll probably be the only division leader to ever give two ******** about her trainees. If I was still in Sun, I'd have been told to walk it off." He straightened up, shrugging. "For now you guys have each other. When you get to my rank? Most of everyone you trained with is either stationed off isle, or dead. It becomes a dog eat dog world out there to the point where my group learned that your job only ends when you're dead."

"The Mists, now? You're lucky to start off in'em. They're not like the other divisions. Consider how much training you guys get to go through compared to the other divisions; you're expected to learn a little bit of everything instead of specializing. You guys are valuable; it'd suck to lose all that time spent in training ya, right?" Lance grinned shrugging. "That's the official stance. Unofficially? Aria..." He trailed off, catching himself. "Aria's different. She actually cares. I mean, hell. Look at me." He spread his arms wide, then nodded towards his wheel chair. "I'm a waste of Deus space. I should've been killed or stored in a pod, but out of the blue comes a girl I never made it to second base with, saving my a**."

Lance laughed, sinking back against his pillows. "Man, listen to me yammer on. I'm sorry about that -- I guess I've been sick of being lonely here and took the first opportunity I could get to go on and on. You're... Candace, right? How's your training been going? From what I gather, you've gotten the Aria Treatment too."

Lance shrugged. "It used to be that way. Now, I'm not sure how Aria wants to run it. Since you guys have cellphones, you're probably expected to use those instead. A headset on the isle just means I'd keep in contact with you guys and can give you advice if you're, say, in the middle of training and have no idea what to do next." Really, the headsets were starting to fall out of fashion. He wasn't even sure if he still had his Sun headset or walkie talkie. Did Candace even know what a walkie talkie was? He decided to refrain from asking.

He couldn't help but to grin at Candace, chuckling quietly at how she gazed at her rings. "Yeah, you do. If I was still Sun, I'd probably try to recruit you. As it is, Suns are best at dealing damage. Most are close range, but there are some that attack from a distance too. All that matters is being able to deal a lot of damage. Speed doesn't matter, so long as you leave things dead. It's pretty simple, but that's how the Suns rolled." A note of longing tinged his voice. He missed it. He missed being able to prove himself in that way, missed the excitement and rush of a fight. Lance kept his eyes on Candace, pushing the thoughts of his useless legs from his mind. It didn't matter how many times he resented it; there was no way to fix it. And like hell he would even consider taking up that crazy Lifer's suggestion of replacing his legs with golem legs. He had his points of pride still, cripple or not.

Like now. His grin widened as he leaned forward, taking on a lecherous note. "Well now, wanna find out what happens when I get to third base with someone?" He purred, giving her a broad wink. "At this time I'd promise you wouldn't regret it, but I'm currently working my magic on someone else. Sorry kid, maybe some other time. Or if you ever get tired of this so-called boyfriend of your's..."

Lance trailed off with a grin, listening. "Well," he began, "The training courses are an obvious set-up. They're not the same every time, and it's both a matter of training and luck. They're just like on the field: unpredictable. You may think you know what you're getting into, then something comes from outta the blue to smack you." He shook his head, grimacing. "I'm glad I can't exactly run those anymore myself. Then again, I can't exactly run anywhere anymore." He couldn't hide the bitterness from his voice. Even if it was several months, his state was a bitter pill for him to swallow.

And yet... "Heh. Deathsweeper, huh? How many golems did you get to go through? You should be lucky -- there was a time when we had to run through that in person."

"Hey, we still do!" Lance retorted, indicating his own headset. "Er, rather, sometimes. I can't exactly get around, nor am I going to make an appearance anywhere." Lance added bitterly, shrugging. "So far I've only kept in touch with Aria, since she has a headset with her 24/7. We're still working out the quality, otherwise this'll be how I teach you guys." Lance glanced down to his useless legs, frowning. "Unfortunately the only thing I can do at this point is give you vocal feedback. I can't exactly show you guys how to do something and have you copy me."

Lance fell silent, brooding. It was frustrating for him; it was one thing to be able to talk about things. Doing them? That was now impossible. Granted, if it was a hand to hand weapon he could show off the basics. But stances? Movement? The very things that kept you alive? He forgot his basics and paid the price.

He dragged himself from his thoughts, shaking his head ruefully at her suggestion. "Life? No thanks. I had to suffer through those training courses as a trainee. As a hunter, I don't need to wake up with a p***s doodled on my face." He grimaced, adding, "That and probably at this point, it wouldn't surprise me if someone added streamers to my wheel chair. Or take off with it completely." He jerked his chin over towards it. "That's my only way to get around, Candace. Without it, I'm stranded. I may be only half a man, but I still have my pride."

"And speaking of..." He eagerly jumped on the topic change, trying to pin Candace to her chair with his stare. "Luck plays a very important part in being a hunter. Monsters and things aren't like the fairy tales. They're out to kill you. You died ten times. It could have been permanently, but you're still whole and slouching in that chair. You're still alive. That's ten deaths, ten chances to learn what not to do.

"Now. Next time you go back there... What are you going to do differently?"

Lonely didn't even begin to describe half of it. There was Aria, and yet... Lance simply shrugged. There were some things that you simply didn't talk about. Especially to a trainee, moreso to one that the division leader you wanted to talk about held in high regard. Candace's record was one of the best Lance had seen for a Mist as far as he could tell. Then again, Candace was the face he had seen the most -- he was familiar with her. That in and of itself was enough to make him bite his tongue and keep to his own council.

"No," he said firmly, dismissing the idea. "I'm well enough off. The last thing I need is to go gallivanting about and remember how much I ******** up to get this way." He grimaced, shaking his head. "When you've been here as long as I have, you learn to take your kicks when you can get them. You're still in training. You're expected to spend most of your time training. Life?" He shrugged. "They're off doing anything from experiments to golems. Their freetime is spent waiting. Suns? Spent my freetime brushing up on my gun and weapon knowledge."

He lapsed into silence, eyes narrowing at her suggestion. "A bonsai tree." Lance repeated flatly. "A tree for a place that doesn't get any sunshine. Where would you get it? That thing would probably die within a week." He shook his head, dismissing the idea. "Get a plastic plant instead. That way all you'd need to do is dust it off."

Lance sat up and shifted slightly. He looked puzzled before he closed his eyes and exhaled sharply, falling back against his pillows. Idiot. "I don't know what Aria's up to," he said simply. "But I'd imagine she'll wish to speak to you about your performance. With Deathsweeper... I can't offer much advice," he said simply, shrugging. "That's all about luck and movement. Shadow run? I can help a bit with that. Maybe."

He ran both hands through his hair as he sighed, leaning back. "...I'm sorry," he said curtly. "I keep thinking that I'll get used to being this damn useless and become content with myself. That's not something that's happening anytime soon." He dropped his hands to his sides.

"It doesn't matter what division you are. Lose your temper, and you're bound to lose your head." He sat up and twisted around, shoving his pillows together in an attempt to fluff it up and make it more comfortable. "Next time you go in, stop in at the quartermaster and get a headset. My frequency is 586.268. When you get the headset, text me the runic number assigned to'em, and I'll tune you in. If you're planning on using them for awhile, get one that's comfortable. And don't lose it," he added looking at her thoughtfully. "Then again, if you lose it, it might be an... interesting experience for you..."