She wants to wrinkle her nose at that thought, doesn't, steps into the reclaimed building, taking in the eclectic, aged decor. Integra moves with a deliberateness that, to some eyes, may seem reckless, but there's an awareness to her that meets against her lack of caution. (Or maybe she just thinks Boromir will sacrifice himself nobly if the ants turn out to be face-eating, who knows.)

In the center of the main room, she stands apart from the ant trails, though every so often one of their number breaks formation to twirl antennae at their visitors; when one meanders near enough to her foot, she looks down. "Hello."

Presumably this garners no response.