The Scoutmaster stands at a filing cabinet on the far side of her desk, rifling through a neat collection of folders. She plucks one out, and says, "Come in," as she flips open the waxed-cloth cover (who can afford paper for anything but writing these days). She gestures at the chairs as she turns, movements seamless even if her gaze pauses on his face.

"You must be our new Shadow Dragon recruit." She sets down the folder and takes a seat, picking up another off the top of the pile in the tray to her right. Her hair is lighter here and longer, skin paler after a long winter, makeup more subtle, but she wasn't in deep disguise that time in Vol Dorma, just blurred a little, softer, unmemorable--not at all the same as unrecognizable.

"Pleased to meet you, Serah Andor."