Now Zelaya wasn’t antisocial, but her smaller stature and quiet nature, as well as her resistance to breaking ANY rules had left her somewhat lacking of friends for mealtimes. While she knew almost every other candidate by name, and would have probably been welcomed to sit with most, none would actively seek her out either. It more often than not resulted in her sitting at the ends of one of the long tables come dinner, nearest to any newer arrivals who had yet to intergrate and find friend groups to throng with. That suited her fine as well, as it was a chance to (quietly) observe them and devide who may or may not be trouble. She didn’t particularly care for trouble, and it payed to know where it might spring from in trying moments.

There was just one today. Unfortunate for the fellow—and he did seem a boy, though younger than she had expected to be taken on search, going by his height—to be all alone. She occasionally would turn her attentions to the short fellow as she made quick and neat work of the dinner. Candidating was hungry work, and she ever had an appetite, though her manners kept her from gorging.

Perhaps, she mused, she ought to say hello. If he was alone as he seemed to be, and new (again, all signs pointed to yes) then he might be at a loss. Still, maybe he just liked it a bit quieter. Young boys like him seemed to be the type to prefer to run and sport about though. She snuck another glance—hinestly at his size she didn’t wonder if he’d be of age to stand this round at all. Perhaps he was meant to be a replacement for when their numbers were inevitably decimated? That made a bit more sense. He seemed fit enough, it was just...his height...he couldn’t be a day over 13 turns old. She really ought to say something...

“Are you settling in alright?” She ventured, tone entirely like that of an older sister. Or a mother hen.

“Celeanor”