The Missing Fingers Club

-two-

two : profiles

"This," Thorne begins, slamming a hand on the table, "is important. Aces, no. It is crucial. More crucial than getting the right amount of hair gel on the right side of my head, even. Right Cress?"

Cress sighs in response. "Captain, it's the left side of your head that needs the most taming."

Thorne laughs, snapping his fingers. "Of course. Right. Knew that. . ." His eyes loose their focus for a moment while he ponders on his magnificent hair.

"Ahem."

He points a finger to the ceiling. "Moving on!" A pause. He leans towards Cress and whispers out of the corner of his mouth. "What was I saying, babe?"

"Talking about the profi--"

"Oh! Yes yes, very important they ar-- What are you wearing?" His eyes scan Cinder from head to toe.

Cinder, who enjoys glaring at Thorne whenever she gets the chance to, is indeed wearing weird clothing. She's wearing a pair of loose sweatpants and a loose gray sweater. Her hands are stuffed in her pockets and she stops pacing. Thorne smirks, but makes no comment.

"Who wants to go first?" he asks, clapping his large hands together.

"Not I," Scarlet huffs.

"Great! Scar, if you could just come and sit over here. . ."

"I said I don't want to go first."

Thorne nods slowly, the same way you would when addressing a particularly stupid child. "Right. . . Which is why you are going first."

"Fine." She crosses her arms. "I want to go first," she says with a proud smirk, thinking she's figured Thorne out.

Thorne grins. "Excellent, a volunteer! Gee, Scarlet, you're so kind."

"Scarlet and kind in the same sentence?" Cinder laughs, earning her a glare from the redhead. "Not something I was expecting to hear, I'll admit. . ." She notices the look Scarlet is giving her and she rolls her eyes. "I'm joking, genius," she laughs.

"Scarlet, I think I'll type and then you can read it, yeah? Good. Okay give me a few moments while my creative brain juices flow from my feet to my to-- from my head to my toes. Hem hem. . ." He cracks his knuckles and begins a 'file' on his French friend.

Scarlet Benoit, he types, sticking out his tongue slightly.

Date of birth. . .

He looks up, a stupid look on his face. "When the aces is your birthday?" he hisses.

"Why are you asking me in that tone?" Scarlet fires back.

"Because I have no idea when your birthday is, you idiot!"

"Thorne!"

"Oh, not again. . ."

"Do you want me to launch myself at you again?"

Thorne laughs. "Woah there, Frenchie. Cress is right there. . ." Scarlet begins to stand. "May? No. Uhh. . . June?"

She sits back down with a sigh and crosses her arms. "August seventeenth, year one-o-eight, third era." She blows a curl away from her face (tries to at least).

Thorne types that in and continues her short biography. When he is done, the file looks a little like this:

Scarlet Benoit
Born 17 August, 108 T.E.
Pilot and farmer
Rank in M.F.C.: Treasurer (NOTE: ASK CINDER IF THIS IS WHAT THIS IS CALLED)
Scarlet Benoit is a revolution veteran who currently resides in her French farmhouse with other revolution veteran Ze'ev Kesley, a past Lunar special operative. She enjoys growing vegetables and wearing red because her catchphrase is "Yes, like the hair." She is fully capable of, and willing to, use a gun, so approach her with caution.