Aside from extremely large spiders harassing her room-mate, and ostensible captains who couldn't bloody well pace themselves, it hadn't been a terribly bad first night, all things considered.

That, reflected one grumpy and aging head of British Intelligence to herself, was perhaps the first sign that she might just be losing it. But the wooden baseball bat she'd 'liberated' had seemed tangible enough in the morning light, and now there was a bus and a promised trip into town. Decked out in a cotton dress and wool coat, both with the sort of floral patterns commonly seen decorating aging chesterfields, M made her way to the bus, attempted to sneak a surreptitious look at the license plate, and found herself ushered back into order with the rest of the travelers.

A small attempt at a baleful glare bouncing off the nurse like so much water off of cellophane, she grunted to herself, picked her way down the narrow aisle to a point far back enough to minimize the number of people who would be behind her, but not so far as to make it obvious, and perforce sat.

"Good day, young man,"

The seat was already occupied. A bother, that, but no need to be impolite.