Cupcake Penh Python

[Guest]

It was a day like any other day in South, which is to say lakey and cratery. Emphasis on some huge crater being there since some random passerby douche took the lives of so many people, with the audacity of NOT identifying himself, and in fact, smartly keeping it to himself.

But as it goes, a certain Lieutenant Colonel Shula Brighton's office was in fact, occupied by an individual whom is individualistic most certainly. Seated in fact, on her chair behind the desk facing the doorway. SACRILEGE. The aides that are about were gossiping among themselves as they'd typically do, mostly about the individual in the office. Curious of the identity of the gaunt man.

Details slip of how the uniform lacked the blue of typical Amestrian uniform, and in fact, was black. The signature that one may instantly recognize in the military police, and state security.

And so hark, the individual was Nikolaus, reading a book pertaining to theological matters in particular to Ishval as he awaits, his visit unannounced and for the most part, an unknown face. Passing along the time as he awaits, in the dim room, for over a good hour or so for a presence which WOULD'VE been there earlier had he announced his visit.

Scanning over the finer details in fascination of sorts, as time passed on in this task of scholarly enthusiasm. Probably to be better in tune with Shula's thoughts in a poor characterization based upon her identity, rather than personality. Or was it an enthusiasm based upon something else?

[Shula Brighton]

The makeshift metal buildings had been a vast improvement to te tents and gave the area the Military was camping on some air of actually being work rather than just a really effing long company outing. Generators provided electricity and small fans everywhere to keep the soldiers from baking in what would have quickly become large Easy-Bake ovens, but bringing in desks, chairs and other such things officially took any semblance of possible fun and murdered it thoroughly. Dammit.

The Military was a mess. The country was a mess. The towns nearby were a mess. And for the love of cheesecake, WHY did it all have to come to HER desk?! Didn't they have anyone else in the Military that actually DID work? Shula sighed, exasperated as the stacks of papers never seemed to end. Computers weren't up yet, but at this point they were lucky to have the power generators and a freaking fax line. It was like working in the stone age, and all she needed was a hammer made from a stick and a rock and a stone chisel. No computers, no massive global filing system, hardly any phone... AND WHO THE HELL RAN OFF WITH THE COFFEE POT?!

Papers came in and out of her desk as fast as she could, Shula trying desperately to reorganize the soldiers scattered across the ruined country. Now more than ever they needed everyone to be where they were supposed to be and doing their damn jobs so they weren't left defenseless. People came in and out of the little room, too, little messages on paper being relayed in and out as Shula desperately tried to find some semblance of order, and right now she'd give an arm just to have a hyper-effecient secretary. Much later than she should have, it was brought to her attention that she had a visitor waiting to be seen. Shula smacked her palm against her face, grumbling in agitation as she found out he'd been there an hour and nobody had told her.

She pushed away from the desk, leaving the makeshift office to greet whomever it was herself and apologize profusely. As she stepped out and turned to find the chairs waiting guests should be waiting in, the first thing Shula noticed was the black uniform. MP. Good Lord, whose ass was she covering THIS time? She didn't have money to post bail to anyone! And then the book lowered slightly and the face behind it caught her off guard as a warm smile emerged to greet the man. "Stuka! What brings you all the way out here? They didn't tell me you were waiting out here... Come into the office, I've got the fan going!" Warm, friendly, and informal as ever, Shula held the little door open for Nikolaus to walk through first.

[Guest]

Grazing off the passage in particular of prohibitions, to tampering with the fabrics of reality. Stuka was greeted by the sudden entry of a bleached blondie, and to her, there was that absence of the tobacco pipe he always indulged in smoking. No more noxious fumes accompanied and shrouded the pale face of the Colonel. Inclining his sights to the visitor, book lowered as vision was no longer a fleeting issue.

"Stuka! What brings you all the way out here? They didn't tell me you were waiting out here... Come into the office, I've got the fan going!"

He was taken aback by the inviting and pleasant atmosphere the Ishvallan shined off of, if anything, this was nothing a military officer is. It was a community leader, a pep talker, a fighter of words that many politicians strive for, yet so little fulfill honestly, are. The military officer has authority by power, to fang and bear the teeth, the chevrons a testament to their power and ability to kill and hold their drinks. And when it is a star, it gets as serious as a day at a strip club.

Grinning, he stood up, snapping the book to a close, slipping it into his bomber jacket as he grasps for what would betray his latest rank as a Colonel -- his sword. Tying it to his belt. Nodding, stepping to the flank of the desk and towards the threshold of the doorway to see himself out.

"Hoho, I never told them I was here, probably why they never knew." He replied in his typical jovial tone, "And it's fine, it's cool enough as it is, not really that hot."

A bead of sweat rolled down his cheek, as he was rather glossy with moist from sweat. Turning around briefly with his back facing her, sweeping off the sweat before turning back to Shula, nodding once again with a smile.

"Yep, not hot at all. It's cool enough as it is. So shall we?" The Colonel holds his palm upside down towards the way, following her along where she would lead, "I just figure that I am giving a social visit, nothing official."

"Oh! And congrats on your promotion to head of logistics! Just don't get too ahead... if you get my pun." With that interjection outta the way, Nikolaus forces himself to chuckle with enthusiastic cheerfulness, it came out as a cackle of some sort of demented ulterior malice instead.

[Shula Brighton]

Even though the summerweight uniform was cotton as opposed to the heavier wool version for winter, their uniforms were still unfairly hot. Given the fact that they were all in a over-sized tin box everyone in the building had permission to take off theiruniform coats, most of the soliders present wearing loose singlets and teeshirts tucked into their pants. She herself was in a bloose black teeshirt, her own jacket draped over the chair in in makeshift office. And here was Stuka... in full uniform with a bomber jacket. Really, the man looked more prepared to make a surprise visit to North than South.

Shula shut the door behind them as they entered her office, concluding that everyone could wait a few minutes to come bother her again with whatever was going wrong now. As she went back to her seat she couldn't help but notice Niko turn around to wipe his sweating brow. Honestly she was probably the only person who thought the temperature was just fine, but this was her home; in late January, Central had been freezing to her. She smiled warmly as she sat down at her desk, noticing the saber tied to his belt.

[i]"Oh! And congrats on your promotion to head of logistics! Just don't get too ahead... if you get my pun."

Shula laughed lightly at the somewhat lame but well-meant joke. I'll do my best. Ooh.. Nice letter opener, Stuka," she said, playful admiration clear in her inflection as she looked the scabbard up and down. Shula closed the files that had been open across her desk, making a clean spot in the middle and looked back up to Niko. "So what can I do for you, Stuka?"

[Guest]

Heat mingled in a constant with one known as Nikolaus Stuka, well, that's not his real name, but just A NAME. Nonetheless it caused him to relent under the oncoming heat inside, stripping of his bomber jacket, he flung it over to a rack present in the office as it hung from an edge. Quite convenient so to say. TOO CONVENIENT. But then again, Shula Brighton was prepared for everything. Perhaps a habit picked up serving the General Spade? A demanding harsh master that makes her do all the work whilst he gets drunk off his butt.

A fine commander if Nikolaus says so himself, making subordinates do all the work whilst he attends to his own business. And now Shula may repeat or break the cycle. Most probably perhaps break it.

"I'll do my best. Ooh.. Nice letter opener, Stuka,"

Letter opener... fifth time he heard that term ever since he got the sword. What is it with people and using the term letter opener?! This is a sword! Not a small dagger! Meant for skewering that go SWOOSH instead of Skadoosh like all letter openers go. And he can open letters just fine with his hands anyways. Oblivious to Shula's evident fascination with his officer's issue saber.

"This is a sword given to me by a grateful nation for thwarting an insurgent attack on Central. A SWORD." He explained assertively, "It can cut things up, here, I'll show you the fine quality of said blade."

Pulling the weapon out of its sheathe, right hand grasping the grip, blade pointing upwards, only there was something amiss -- the rack. It slid from the initial position, sliced through cleanly, with Nikolaus sheathing his saber back into place. Whistling as he would shuffle to his flank and stand in front of the rack, in realization that he had sliced it up. Obscuring the damage.

"So what can I do for you, Stuka?"

"Erm... right... moving on! Not like I am trying to cover any damages or anything. I must say, you have such a happy face. Yep... that's right..." He nodded in self-agreement, "Besides that, I just came to explore a bit of South City. Check out the locale, see how security is doing here, maybe have a book or two, and a muffin, on the way. Tourism basically and to see a happy faced colleague."

[Shula Brighton]

The sword was unsheathed with an impressive swoosh, followed by a small clatter of things falling to the floor. Shula couldn't help but giggle slightly as one of the best soliders the MP's had to offer had managed to defend her successfully from the evil tyranny of the coatrack. At long last she was free, all hail Stuka! She shook her head lightly, glad that this building was only temporary while South's new HQ was being built. It was coming along quickly, as were several other buildings with the help of construction alchemists, design teams and freelance builders doing it for charity.

"Besides that, I just came to explore a bit of South City. Check out the locale, see how security is doing here, maybe have a book or two, and a muffin, on the way. Tourism basically and to see a happy faced colleague." Shula beamed. Being down here with Spade and the chunk of Central's militants and the soldiers who were due to work at South had been a workation of sorts; days here had been to let them recover from their mental and physical wounds, but there was still a lot of work to do to try and get South running. Shula was a goddess of paperwork effeciency, but until the systems were up and running fully DAMMIT it was a lot.

"Really? That's wonderful! Surprisingly enough, things are coming along pretty well here." Shula pulled out a large spiral notebook, her attention to detail showing in her notes as she flipped through the first good chunk of book. Her finger cruised down her notes as she smiled, pleased with the overall progress of the area. "HQ is coming along quickly, and there's a lot of buildings and housing complexes underway all around the lake. Lots of areas are still tents and stalls, but that'll change pretty quickly. Even my own family came out from the settlements to help the building and get some shopping areas running. It's going to be amazing when everything here is finished."

[Guest]

"Really? That's wonderful! Surprisingly enough, things are coming along pretty well here."

Mount Paperwork was anointed on this day made by the ever so encompassing snow of notes. Where only the bravest and boldest may tread and adventure in these treacherous grounds where no minds may come out sane from the encounter. Nikolaus was cast aghast, silent and pale. It suddenly occurred to him why Spade wishes to leave paperwork to Shula... whom despite all science and inner workings of the human mind, ENJOYS THESE HORRIDLY DAMNED THINGS.

"Goodness gracious... Shula..." Muttered the MP, quietly.

"HQ is coming along quickly, and there's a lot of buildings and housing complexes underway all around the lake. Lots of areas are still tents and stalls, but that'll change pretty quickly. Even my own family came out from the settlements to help the building and get some shopping areas running. It's going to be amazing when everything here is finished."

CLACK

Boots stomped on the floor, taking steps towards the woman, he aimed to grasp her wrist and pull her along outside of the tent, to wherever aquatic vehicular mount was. She spent too much time evidently in paperwork, too drawn into it. That can be unhealthy for a person's carefree nature. She planned all of this too much. All work and no play makes Polly a dull little girl.

"Come along Lieutenant Colonel, your paperwork has dulled your definition of fun and..." he grinned at the half-Ishvallan, "This day will not be marked as a visit for social issuance! But for MEANINGFUL ENTERTAINMENT. A vaccine to your morbid delight in these thrice damned wood skin!"

[Shula Brighton]

There was a look on Stuka's face as Shula pulled out and thumbed through the notebook that contained her personal observations on just about everything pertaining to South. Everything from going out and meeting the droves of people who were coming and settling around the edge of the crater-lake to all of the alchemists hard at work to create buildings and living areas and helped with the hydroponic gardens and create farmed areas so there would be enough food for everyone and even to the people that were less than happy to see the Military there. Shula had been notating progress on all of it, and though "taking it easy" to let her ribs finish mending, she hadn't exactly been taking her time in South on her ass. The look on the MP's face was a mix of shock, horror and utter confusion, Shula not hearing his quiet, horror-stricken comment.

Stuka's boots made solid and determined-sounding clacks against the cement slab of the floor in the temporary building, Shula letting out a surprised gasp as her wrist was grabbed by the larger man's hand. "E-Eh?! Stuka, wha-?" Shula was proptly yanked upward and away from her desk, coat left spinning and abandoned on the back of her chair as its owner was dragged out of her office entirely.

"Come along Lieutenant Colonel, your paperwork has dulled your definition of fun and... This day will not be marked as a visit for social issuance! But for MEANINGFUL ENTERTAINMENT. A vaccine to your morbid delight in these thrice damned wood skin!" Shula was being pulled through the hot tin building, and getting more than a few odd looks and grinning comments from the people who worked under her. It was obvious she wasn't in any real trouble, but the fact that the "walking code of conduct" was being dragged away by an MP who out-ranked her was more than a little funny, especially as she protested on the way out as best she could. The petite officer gave her coworkers a frustrated pout. "Behave you lot!" Shula vanished out the little door and from sight, the sound of her office dying laughing reverberating off the tin walls.

She had stopped trying to yank her hand free from Stuka, her free hand now rising to shield her eyes from the sudden change in light. The breeze out here was nice. Still hot like it had been inside, but the air was fresh, and Shula liked natural heat a lot more than Easy Bake heat. A light laugh slipped past her mouth; she couldn't think of the last time she'd played hookey. In fact, last time she took her two weeks paid leave was while things were still peaceful and Colonel Pearlstein had practically had to shove her in a box and mail her to Meissan to make her stop working, and then when she went to Resembool to visit her father she just spent most of her time working at his shop. Shula glanced up at Nikolaus and then to the edge of the crater where it met the water, and back to the MP with a quirked smile. "Wanting the tour?"

[Guest]

What grasp of the black harbinger had let go of the woman of white and cornsilky butterscotch goodness. Soles of the boots of darkness make way unto a vessel appropriately noted as speed boat. Helping himself as to land his buttocks on the seat of soft goodness. The heat was certainly less of a concern now he is lacking in his bomber jacket. Reaching out and commandeering that-which-steers-the-oceanic-vessel.

Well, he would have had she not uttered a statement that states what she is stating... by no means to do with a matter of a state though certainly.

"Wanting the tour?" Was what she said, and what he had noted.

"Of course! I love a chance to see..." He took but a moment to commit the surroundings to memory, "Water north, east, and west, maybe south, and some buildings over there, but I call those a minority."

Scooching to the side, he gave the wheel of DESTINY AND FATES over to Shula Brighton, that of brightness begotten by a ton. For Nikolaus is not one to drive, he is one to look good in his uniform and for his uniform to look good on him. It was a symbiotic and good partnership between garment and man alike.

"By all means, this top-fish is yours to plummet to doom orrrr go along on an average coarse on the waters." Remarked Stuka, "Just make sure to mind the street lights somewhere around here and proper road rules. Car crashes on land would be the fifth leading death on Amestris."

[Shula Brighton]

The warm breeze was wonderfully refreshing, and though the manmade lake would never have its own naturally pulsating waves like the sea would, the wind moved the water along and almost cooled things off a bit from the temperature difference. It was so funny being so close to the water; she'd swam when she was a child, before she got sick and her mother disallowed it, but since she'd been on her own and working with fire swimming had generally lost its appeal. Water meant she was a bit defenseless. Having their temporary office so close to the water meant they could get all over South quickly, hence why HQ was being built practically over the edge; she knew for a fact there were some apartments and hotels being built in the water itself.

Untethering the line, Shula stepped uneasily into the speedboat and slid into the driver's seat, reaching under to grab the keys. Driving was still a new thing to her, though with the boat being her first real practice there was a major advantage in that she at least didn't have much of anything to crash into. She let out a faint laugh as the boat's motor revved to life. She was giving stuka the grand tour of... water, small encampments and buildings in progress. Well, progress was good, and maybe playing hooky wouldn't hurt anything.

"By all means, this top-fish is yours to plummet to doom orrrr go along on an average coarse on the waters. Just make sure to mind the street lights somewhere around here and proper road rules. Car crashes on land would be the fifth leading death on Amestris." Shula quirked an eyebrow at her peer, smiling much more playfully than she had in the office under her mountains of work. This was the smile that could put work aside and play... at least a little. A warm giggling laugh escaped her lips. [color=green]"Pfft, what road rules? Need a road for that... and we haven't paved any yet!"

She knew better than to just gun it straight into the water; that'd throw the transmission. But the boat did peel out delicately from its parked place and moved out into the water. It quickly picked up speed and began to cruise across the shimmering water, heading toward the western edge to start the tour at the largest of the encampments. "But seriously, I won't get us killed." The half-finsihed buldings came steadily closer, the area covered in colourful tents like an Isvhallan bazaar. "Over here is where most of the new residents have been settling and setting up shops... It's kind of a makeshift marketplace. I even called in my family from the desert settlements to come and help start trade going."

[Guest]

Nikolaus reached out for his pocket out of habit, his fingers scattering to find what would be shaped like a tobacco pipe, only for him to grumble a few angry asides from what he remembers; he can't smoke anymore. It is an unfortunate thing, his physician (whom is from a secret society), has forced him out of this. Right, another long case of no smoking, DAMNIT. One of his few blissful pleasures in the world wiped out.

Shula popped aside after leasing the rope of imprisoning the boat, and sitting next to Nikolaus, or Nikolaus was seated next to the now-seating-herself Shula. SEMANTICS NONSENSE.

"Pfft, what road rules? Need a road for that... and we haven't paved any yet!"

The boat divorced the pier as it would be going on a journey to the bazaars, or colorful tents. Much like the ones Nikolaus saw of the desert nomads resembling something close to Xingese-like nomads back then, those that saved his life from a slow demise in his trek across the desert. 'Cept these are perhaps Ishvallan from the looks of it, a people of fascination to Nikolaus.

"But seriously, I won't get us killed. Over here is where most of the new residents have been settling and setting up shops... It's kind of a makeshift marketplace. I even called in my family from the desert settlements to come and help start trade going."

Nikolaus hummed a tune of Polly Polly Oxenfree, and SUDDENLY AMBUSHED SHULA WITH SOME STATEMENT BREAKING UP THE TUNE AND MAKING AN AWKWARD HALF-FINISHED HUM, or perhaps it wasn't awkward at all? Just curiously unfinished, "Your not getting us killed skill oughta come in handy one day. Well, what're we waiting for? My coffers require books! And books require coffers. To the bizarre bazaars I say!"

[Shula Brighton]

So Mr. Stuka was needing books... Shula didn't know that anyone had set up a bookshop yet, and she knew she'd never find a bookshop like the one she almost lived in at Central. But if there was something specific that Stuka was looking for, she did at least know people who could help find it! The boat sped up, leaving choppy waves in its wake as it zipped across the water to the colourful tents and stalls fixed between the half-built buildings. When everything was closer to being done she'd see if someone would help her construct a little flat... The idea of living at HQ still held no appeal to her at all. Something about living over your office just screamed 'no' in every language.

"The Bazaar it is, then! My favourite place so far... But what I have in mind hasn't been built yet." She shifted downgear slightly, putting the boat's speed at a steady constant that was safe to set to cruise control. 100 miles of lake in any direction... Whoever leveled South and turned it into a crater must have been setting that up for days or weeks in order to for make it such a nearly perfect circle. Shula shook the thought from her mind, keeping herseolf focused on the here and now. She smiled over at Nikolaus.

"Thanks for rescuing me from my desk... We haven't announced it yet, but I'm actually going to be in charge of South once it's ready, so right now I've been going mad setting everything up and Spade's been helping me get it all sorted until I take over duties." The tents of the bazaar were coming into view. The best place to spend an afternoon... not doing her paperwork. Oh dear... Been at this a few days and I'm already showing I've been hanging around Spade too much. Shula giggled inwardly ... Naaaaaah she'd been managing his office for months plus her own. Hers couldn't get nearly as backed up, could it? "So what kind of books are you looking for? I dunno that there's a bookseller specifically, but there are people who carry a bit of everything.."

[Guest]

Muscles tense as land draws near, inviting Nikolaus to stand from his seat to look DASHING, and GOOD, DASHINGLY GOOD, or GOODLY DASHING. Either options fit. For it is land he seeks! And land he sought! And land he got. Well, was getting sooner or later anyways.

"The Bazaar it is, then! My favourite place so far... But what I have in mind hasn't been built yet."

Could it be? Does she want ANOTHER office to work in so she has TWICE the paperwork? Goodness gracious, she really is a perfect secretary, perhaps... a chance small it may be, she has been raised as Nikolaus was in some superficial similarity, for the one distinct purpose of doing paperwork? Possible, probably Father not wanting to do all the paperwork, but then again, Nikolaus should've known. Or maybe this was a splinter agent? Nah, couldn't be. He kept these thoughts to himself, best... observe the Ishvallan further, taking upon a mask of pleasantries.

"Thanks for rescuing me from my desk... We haven't announced it yet, but I'm actually going to be in charge of South once it's ready, so right now I've been going mad setting everything up and Spade's been helping me get it all sorted until I take over duties."

"Can't believe my ears, am I sun struck? Maybe my brain was fried by the tropical heat. Spade? Our General, THE SPADE, helping YOU, with work? Are we sure he is not an imposter? There are awfully lots of those around these days, maybe it was some look-alike who replaced him." Such was the expression of the aghast Colonel in lieu to Commander Spade.

Hard to fathom the free styled Commander taking off his easy life for some hard work, then again, there were these talks of his buddies dying left and right, and some scientist guy, Josef, being slain by some Aerugese. Sounds about right, combat can harden the softest of softies, tragedies that is, or perhaps not.

"So what kind of books are you looking for? I dunno that there's a bookseller specifically, but there are people who carry a bit of everything.."

Eyes shot to the side, finally she got his visionary attention, or attention by optics. Fancy way of putting out he is looking at her. "Look up the theocratic type, maybe a douse of bureaucracy, perhaps some monarchy included? Those two are not really mandatory, just lead the way once again, future Southern Head. My eyes require BOOKS, and books it shall have, just like m'coffers."

[Shula Brighton]

There had always been something so roundabout when it came to Amestrian speaking patterns. It liked to repeat itself, explain itself, and go in complete circles usually before getting to the how and why of it. Some Amestrians were worse about this than others; Shula had heard there werew a few of the more important military officers who could hardly call everyone to a meeting or meal without making a speech of some sort. She'd been speaking Amestrian since she was a baby, right alongside Ishvallan, and the differences were always so stark to her. She could hear the same thing two different ways entirely. In Amestrian she would hear how it was cold like it is in the mountains, how the mountain air was best for you, how the clothing styles changed, reiterate that it was cold there like it was here, and that because of that you were going to buy a coat. In Ishvallan she'd simply be told it was cold, so you were going to buy a coat. Mr. Stuka's circular articulation was probably one of the best examples of the Amestrian language she'd ever heard.

Land was fast approaching, and the look Mr. Stuka gave Shula was priceless, causing her to laugh brightly over the sound of the spraying water around them. Spade helping with work. Yeah, it did seem funny, but dumping all of the work backed up from Central and starting up South all by herself would have just been cruel and unusual punishment. "No, he's not a Pod Person! He's just giving me a hand to get it going while I learn the ropes."

The boat slowed in its wake as the edge of the water came closer, not wanting to cause problems with its fast wake or crash into anything out there that was being built. "Look up the theocratic type, maybe a douse of bureaucracy, perhaps some monarchy included? Those two are not really mandatory, just lead the way once again, future Southern Head. My eyes require BOOKS, and books it shall have, just like m'coffers." Polital science, government and how to run stuff. Stuff Shula admittedly probably should look into herself, even as she made a slight face. Eeew, sounds too much like work. Even for her tastes, that sounded like too much not-funness.

"You got it!" With a final burst forward, the boat finally came to a slow and then to a gentle floating crawl as Shula stood up, waving to some attendant at the makeshift dock to help pull her boat in and tie it off. Shula accepted the boy's offered hand as she was helped out of the boat and onto something more solid, smiling as she pocketed the keys and waited for Stuka. She beamed, lifting her arm to make a sweeping getsure as though introducing a whole party to her companion. "Well then, welcome to the most populated area of South thus far and it's lovely bazaar! Let's go find your books then, shall we?"

[Guest]

Pod people eh? Nikolaus didn't think cloning had become so mass produced lately, interesting. He must research into that. WAIT A MINUTE. Clones are top secret! Shula perhaps could be the theorized person Nikolaus thought her to be for a long time... starting today. Well, not that long, but that's subjective with some pint of syrupy circumstantial.

He had not replied, just smiled, shirking off that flabbergasted mantle he wore.

The boat dimmed to a halt into land as Nikolaus dashingly looked out at the non-watery surface, which would be nice. There was all sorts of colorful draping before his eyes which was raped if anything, by the visuals. The colorfulness that encompassed ALL sorts of spectrum. Them Ishvallans really had a thing for colors.

Stepping out into the solid surface, flexing his back as the breeze blew past his face.

Whistling a tune whilst the boy finished in his assistance of the bleached blonde dame, proceeding to punt the boy at the first opportunity Shula's attention wavers and goes absent from the docks. Punting him into the waters as Nikolaus strolled along to the wunderburger.

Splashes aside.

"Well then, welcome to the most populated area of South thus far and it's lovely bazaar! Let's go find your books then, shall we?"

There came the most innocent and most angelic features Nikolaus can muster in his depraved and immoral life of his, "Please, do lead the way, Brighton."

[Shula Brighton]

The warm breeze carried the smells of different spices and aromas lifting into the air, the sounds of the crowds rising above and distacting Shula from the small splash of the boy who'd helped Shula out of the boat as he fell into the water. She'd hardly waited for Nikolaus to urge her to lead on, the soon-to-be head already several steps ahead of him heading toward the market. If nothing else, the partial collapse of the country and sudden weak economic state had spurred its people to become much more resourceful. Money was tight in some places but still okay in others, but bartering was at a high it hadn't been in ages. Watching people migrate from all over the broken country to start again at South was a testiment to their determination and drive.

Alchemists, artchitects, freelance workers were all coming together to create new buildings in the barren area that had been held for a year, that part of South Lake's coast now dotted with buildings in all stages of being finished as large tents filled the gaps for where people were planning to build their homes, businesses and start planning imporatnt things like water and power lines. South was so different than it had been while she'd lived here before and as a child... the people were more occupied with restarting and making things work than who it was working alongside them. Her own Ishvallan family members had come in from the settlements to set up shop and do what they could to get South up and running again.

"Well, this is where most of the people coming in and settling have all decided that this was the best area to start setting up shop. Close enough to the water, and one of the bigger fields we converted into vegetation farming." That was something Shula had personally felt very proud of, glad to finally have a good use for her most beautiful failed experiment. Once the area had been worked and all the seeds planted, her growth array had been activated to speed up the natural process and help ensure the masses of people coming in wouldn't go hungry. As more people came in, more large gardens had been started, and even though there had been a few accidental cases of produce becoming monstrously huge or kind of exploding it had all been well-worth the effort.

Stalls and half-finished stores spilled into what had become the street, people with any artisan craft or skill trying to do what they could to make a little money or get what they needed. "And you'd wanted books..." Stalls with housewares. With mechanical parts and offering repairs for automail. Baked things and hot food. Shula slipped through the people, almost as though invisible despite her uniform not blending in with anything. She made no effort nor had any reason to announce herself and so wasn't someone that anyone here would pay attention to that wasn't meant to. "If there's any stalls you want to stop at, let me know. My mother's family came here to help with the construction and set up shops all over, so one of them may have what you're looking for."

[Guest]

Taking off the coat can make a world of difference for Nikolaus, but he had half a mind to take off his blouse and stick with the black undershirt. It was still hot like a mofo. Following along Shula, goosestepping along the way, passing the occasional mean glare which frightened a passerby or two, and caused one big guy to whimper. Gotta love the uniform, they are neat.

"Well, this is where most of the people coming in and settling have all decided that this was the best area to start setting up shop. Close enough to the water, and one of the bigger fields we converted into vegetation farming."

He inclined his view to... the horde of people mingling together to do whatever it is people do when they're together to mingle. Ah well, poppycock! He wasn't interested in such trivial whatever-it-is-people-do-together stuff. He was more interested in a book, or books.

"Vegetables are nice, I like vegetables." Generically Nikolaus insinuated remarkably so.

Finally inserting himself into an area filled with all the books, specific ones, he wants, about Ishval. Walking ahead of Shula as her remark went past his ears, the crowd were quite the awfully loud ones.

"If there's any stalls you want to stop at, let me know. My mother's family came here to help with the construction and set up shops all over, so one of them may have what you're looking for."

"Gotcha, off to do some shopping for MYSELF. Enjoy yourself Lieutenant Colonel as I aim to enjoy myself... wait, that didn't sound right. Ignore what I said."

Left to his own designs, Nikolaus shoved everyone that came in his way, and punched a pickpocket or two which may have left them missing several teeth. Blending into the crowd until through the sea of people, he finally got to a... BOOKSTORE stall. One he saw earlier through a glimpse, rummaging through the books until he founded just about the book he wanted to find -- the one on everything on Ishval and their people, history and whatnot. Handing a few Cenz over, he pockets it into his blouse, and whips another pickpocket across the face. Good grief, those feisty little bastards are tenacious ones picking from a military officer of all people.

Then... there was one... it SPARKLES, metaphorically speaking. A pictured book, pictures being a plus, taking it up, it was a book about Ishvallan martial arts practiced by priests. Paying for that too, he slips it into his blouse's pocket as well, and strolls past the crowd. Uppercutting ANOTHER pickpocket that aimed to take his wallet. And finally through the crowd, strolls back to Shula. Her uniform made his treacherous path true and without obstacles.

"This one's shopping needs are fulfilled! I got what I need, and I need what I got. My business at the shops are done, so care to do yours now?" He smiles, oddly an expression that seems to grace the Colonel's face a lot given the smile lines, "I can be a charming accessory as a companion. Like the peanut to the butter, the salt to the pepper... just make sure your chores involve something that has NOTHING to do with those thrice accursed tree hide called... paperwork."

[Shula Brighton]

The crowds were thick and impressive, and made Shula immensely happy to see them all. Large crowds meant good buisiness, good business meant the area was more likely to thrive. No, it wasn't perfect, and no, everything wasn't ready yet. But it was the sign of a new start and that made Shuyla happy on so many levels. Stuka walked ahead of her and veered off, finding a stall that was to his liking. Okay, so he wanted to find what he needed on his own. She paused for a moment, watching Nikolaus wander off to his own devices, wondering if he'd heard her and was ignoring her or if the sound of the people around them overpowered her soft tones.

Either way, he was meandering through and off to find the books he was after, whatever they may have been, and left Shula alone in the crowd. For a moment she wondered if she should wait there for him, and then thought better of it. She'd been kidnapped from her office to not do work, and standing there waiting for him was work-related, so shouldn't be done. Right? Right. She looked around in either direction wondering where she wanted to look at since the stalls and items changed so often with some of them, until she heard a familiar music and decided to head that way, her steps bouncing slightly.

The music from the saz playing drifted upward and bounced along, matching the energy of the crowds and was enticing with its own special brand of magic. To the Amestrians it was strange and exotic, something from a world partially forgotten. To Shula, it was the sound of home and called to something deep and inexplicable within her blood and very essence. Even though she'd never seen the Ishval ruins and had spent very little time with her mother's family unless they came to visit, that connection with them was unquestionable and was something mixed between love and loyalty. Knowing the tune of Ishkader by heart, she hummed along a bit, stepping closer to the stall and smiled quietly, watching the young man play with deft fingers. Red eyes wandered to the display cases of jewelry and furhter back into the shop at the racks of hanging clothes and drapes of hanging saris, not at all hearing the large man approach her from behind, letting out a small yelp as his hands landed on her shoulders. Shula's head tilted up and back to look at the man who grinned like the cat who ate the canary before hugging the tiny woman with a hearty laugh, partially lifting her off the ground. There was a bright squee her her tiny body was lifted, squeezed and spun around briefly before she was put back down. "Yeee, Uncle Pasha!"

There was a quiet moment chatting with the tall, middle-aged Ishvallan, his white beard pointed and parted in opposite directions, his dark gray pagri wrapped around his hair. Chatter Of being urged to try things on and being bombarded with questions about work, herself, the rebuilding of South. Asking if she'd heard word of her brother's whereabouts yet. Introducing her to the Ishvallan boy playing the saz contentedly in front of Pasha's store. And then pausing as the tall Amestrian in the black MP uniform approached and caught their attention. "This one's shopping needs are fulfilled! I got what I need, and I need what I got. My business at the shops are done, so care to do yours now? I can be a charming accessory as a companion. Like the peanut to the butter, the salt to the pepper... just make sure your chores involve something that has NOTHING to do with those thrice accursed tree hide called... paperwork."

Shula smiled playfully, letting out a small laugh. Everyone certainly was against her and her unnatural, Captain Abraham-like urge to defeat the evil paperwork as though it were a great beast planning to rise from the depths of hell and take over the world. They were probably right in that she needed to break more often. "Sounds fine to me, Mr. Stuka. The paperwork can wait, though there are things I do need to start looking into while we're still setting up and arranging staffing for HQ... Too bad Build-A-Bear doesn't handle security and staff!" She laughed warmly and then glanced at Nikolaus, curious as to what he bought but not wanting to pry directly. "Your shopping didn't take long... Did you find what you needed?"

[Guest]

Sneaking off a glance to the crowd, his glare sent the pickpockets whom failed upon their task of stealing the Colonel's effects into a hasty retreat. Where in the future, they would reform as stories of a black-clad uppercutting Amestrian spread through generations of pickpockets that would dread him, and learn not to pickpocket from any security personnel. Returning his apt attention to the smaller-framed paperwork obsessed Ishvallan, whom may be a sociopathic super killing machine trained into manner of assorting papers... or just a normal girl with some abnormal obsession with papers. SAME DIFFERENCE.

"Sounds fine to me, Mr. Stuka. The paperwork can wait, though there are things I do need to start looking into while we're still setting up and arranging staffing for HQ... Too bad Build-A-Bear doesn't handle security and staff! Your shopping didn't take long... Did you find what you needed?"

He nods, reaching for the deposited duo of books, pulling it out with dexterous skills as he presents them to Shula's person. One was a book about the Ishvallans in general, and the other a martial arts that a monastic order of warrior-priests practice. Written by a certain Major Miles of olden times and his acquaintance, back then, known as "Scar".

"I knew what I wanted, mini-Colonel. That's why my shopping took as minuscule time as much as stomping takes minuscule time to stomp." He grinned a sharp toothy one to the Ishvallan-Amestrian, "Does your optics recognize these names? They are famous among your people."

Yes... fame. A stickler, like a case of STD's that sticks no matter how hard it is tried to cure it, especially if it was crabs. Those would be a major milestone in being a pain in the butt in getting rid... with extreme prejudice, and lots of medicine. Those two count, they are important to all medicinal pursuits.

"Ah family, I think I spot myself one of your kin, he shares your features." He walks over to the pointy bearded chap, looking him dead at the eyes, jovial expressions absent as his was that of a predator that gazes intensely at the Ishvallan man, followed by a sudden smile and a shake of a hand, "I feel sympathy for you, having kin so afflicted with the case of the paperwork fever can be... tragic. You have my support in this, Ishvallan relative of hers, I swear it, we'll destroy that illness and save her from that fever!"

He turns around looking at her, still shaking his hand to his up and down, "I believe this dosage of medicine is called FUN. I am sure it's alien to you in many ways, Brighton." Queue with the desisting of the shaking of the hands, he'd probably feel numb from it anyways. Civilians are weird like that. Or was that for the other case called hypothermia? Ah well, easy to confuse those two.

[Guest]

{BUMP}

[Shula Brighton]

Two small books were quickly produced from Stuka's pockets and held in such a way to pique the tiny Ishvallan's attention... which with books was hardly a difficult task. Granted, Shula preferred her own book collections to be at least 40 years old, but she wasn't known for turning down books simply because they were newer. She looked at the covers, one simply portraying a map of the Ishval desert faded behind a picture of one of the desert settlements, and the other of two Ishvallan monks sparring. She blinked, taking in the content from what she could see. One simply teaching the average non-Ishvallan all about the people that they would need to know, either to satisfy their own curiosity or perhaps to be culturally correct when greeting or working with one. The other really caught her attention, and the girl almost loosed an excited, child-like squee.

The art of Kalaripayattu was ancient and had almost been lost with the destruction of Ishval a century ago. The book that came about as a joint effort was one of the few things that brought it to light and helped spark more interest in the fighting style. It was hihg impact, fast and incredibly lethal, many of the students startting and unducted into the art at only seven. Shula glanced at the book and its authors, then back up to Nikolaus pleased and amused that he would be interested in such a thing. "Does your optics recognize these names? They are famous among your people."

Shula beamed, nodding. "I do indeed! It's a very good read, too; it talks about Kalaripayattu as a fighting form as well as a lot of our religious beliefs that coincide with it." Straightening up, Shula raised her arms high in a stretch, a few of the bones in her back releasing their tension with several soft pops. The older Ishvallan looked on curiously at the colonel all in black, his one red eye looking him up and down, modestly sizing up the Amestrian. The older, more rounded man stiffened for a moment as he placed his hand protectively on Shula's shoulder as the colonel approached closer. Briefly the music from the saz stopped playing, Harij looking slightly concerned. "Ah family, I think I spot myself one of your kin, he shares your features." The moment was tense and slightly awkward until Stuka began to smile, shaking Pasha's large hand vigorously, catching him rather off guard.

"I feel sympathy for you, having kin so afflicted with the case of the paperwork fever can be... tragic. You have my support in this, Ishvallan relative of hers, I swear it, we'll destroy that illness and save her from that fever!" Shula smirked faintly, rolling her eyes inwardly. So what if she was a workaholic? At least the work got done when she did it! And when Spade handed South over to her entirely, she'd have even more work; all of South's, and she suspected at least a fair chunk of Central's. Whoever Spade hired to keep on top of their workload and try to keep the paper trail down had Shula's utmost sympathies. "I believe this dosage of medicine is called FUN. I am sure it's alien to you in many ways, Brighton."

The tiny Ishvallan pouted slightly as Stuka freed Pasha's hand, the older man giving a robust laugh. "She gets that from her mother," Pasha said with a grin, his heavy accent weighing down through the Amestrian words. "If left to her own devices she might try to reorganize the world." Shula let out a faintly indignant huff, only making the older man laugh again as Harij resumed gently plucking away at the lute-like instrument.

"I do so too have fun. Just... not much of a chance to when I'm doing ninety-million things all due by yesterday. And I would not reorganize the world! ...I'm having a hard enough time trying to organize South City and keep that from falling apart at the seams. Combination tourist-trap and living resort needing both income and security and I don't think I could get volunteer militants if I begged." Shula ran a hand through her hair with a small sigh and an exasperated laugh, still wondering if the objectives she'd been given were a long-running prank leftover from the ghosts of her former bosses when South was still standing and they'd been doing whatever they could to make her quit so they could win their bets.

[Guest]

The Colonel received the Ishvallans well, laughing along as they do, and grinning along to their smiles. All at Shula's expense of her paperwork fever. Dreadful disease it may be. But all in jolly good humor that seem to infect the Colonel as much as the giant before him. Slipping the books he reaped into whence it came from -- his tunic's insides.

"She gets that from her mother, if left to her own devices she might try to reorganize the world."

"Guess she has to start from somewhere then, say... this region." Nikolaus chuckled heartily, having a new found fondness of the Ishvallan relative of hers. Thoughts of why he hadn't met her family sooner occurred to him as they were quite friendly. A boon to be considered that by the normally austere Colonel.

"I do so too have fun. Just... not much of a chance to when I'm doing ninety-million things all due by yesterday. And I would not reorganize the world! ...I'm having a hard enough time trying to organize South City and keep that from falling apart at the seams. Combination tourist-trap and living resort needing both income and security and I don't think I could get volunteer militants if I begged."

His laughter hushed and died down, his jovial smile faded from his face. Stepping to her side, his gloved wiry fingers grasp for Shula's shoulder, "Perhaps you should step out for a moment then, Lieutenant Colonel," There was that tone MP's* often use when making people disappear, as if she was in some sort of trouble. The Colonel smiles towards the bearded Ishvallan chap, "Don't worry, I'll just borrow her for an indefinite amount of time."

Unlatching, Nikolaus left Shula as he took a quick turn back, stepping out of the shop boundary. Goose stepping past the crowd and towards a dark alleyway so typical of people just disappearing, permanently. The air brooded with some sort of hostility despite otherwise assurances. Making his way around a corner and out of view, having expected her to follow along...

"Ah, finally. Away from the walls that have ears." He sighs, in a rare occurrence, takes off his cap as he rubs his temple in relief, "There are some experienced freelancers whom are reliable for... naval ventures like the wet pond you live on. They should be the answer for your Southern needs. Interested in knowing the names and phone numbers? Does this tune fit the dance you perform?"

*MP's: slang for Military Police.

[Shula Brighton]

The laughter and teasing went quiet, Shula not noticing at first as she looked around to the crowded area. It really was coming along, slowly but surely. Life was being rebuilt and people were becoming themselves again. And maybe, just maybe, Shula would be able to keep things here running smoothly enough to help other places restart. A hand gripped her shoulder firmly and squeezed through its glove, the tone of voice that came with that squeeze darker and heavier than the previous joking had been. "Perhaps you should step out for a moment then, Lieutenant Colonel." Shula blinked, glancing to Nikolaus and rather puzzled by his sudden change in tone. She certainly wasn't in trouble; he was the one who had insisted she take a break from working! "Don't worry, I'll just borrow her for an indefinite amount of time."

Pasha and Harij looked to each other and then Shula, unsure of why the sudden urgency to leave the area. "Just return her in good working order," Pasha said, uncertainty tinting his voice. As Nikolaus unlatched his hand from the girl's shoulder, Pasha leaned in close to kiss the top of her head, his language shifting back to Ishvallan as he quietly urged her to be careful and reminded her to come To dinner so they could discuss important things, like the welfare of the city, how long her family would be staying, and how she felt about taking the next steps in her life... There was hardly a long enough moment to go into a discussion of that sort here and now as Nikolaus turned and began to walk off, knowing by that look that Shula was intended to follow him.

The girl trotted off behind Stuka as best she could, his long strides easily equaling three or four of her own little steps. Trying to keep up with Stuka wasn't an easy task as Shula wove through thr crowds behind him, wondering if he'd walk slower or faster if he stopped walking as strangely as he did. Did his pants just not allow for him to bend his knes correctly? Following along Shula hardly noticed that Niko had lead her to an alley between buildings and away from whwere the crowds. Once he stopped Shula looked around, feeling a bit puzzled as to why she'd been lead there and trying to brush her less than fond memories of the first time she was lead to an alley by a strange man. The good news was that while she didn't know Stuka well enough to personally call him friend, she was at least certain he wasn't out to hurt her.

"Ah, finally. Away from the walls that have ears. There are some experienced freelancers whom are reliable for... naval ventures like the wet pond you live on. They should be the answer for your Southern needs. Interested in knowing the names and phone numbers? Does this tune fit the dance you perform?" Shula's ears perked with sudden interest. Mr. Stuka was just full of surprises, wasn't he? He knew people Shula could contact for working security and who happened to know more about working around water. As much as she was afraid to hire people who weren't Military, she was aware that at this point she couldn't be too terribly picky about some things and had to swallow that she may have to pay them out of her own pocket. But... if they could help keep South safe... Then it was worth it, right? Slowly she smiled, her eyes bright and hopeful.

"Mr. Stuka, I'd love to! If they know anything about dealing with working in and around the water and you think they could help, then I'd certainly love to speak with them about it." Shula reached into her pocket, pulling out her cell phone and opening up a file to write a memo. "Where are they located, and whom do I call on?" Shula stood, ready to start typing in what she needed to know as a third, valid question came to mind. Why did he need to bring me into an alley to tell me he knew someone to hire for security?

[Guest]

Outfitting his head, obscuring that slicked back golden hair of his with his officer's cap. It wasn't often he took off his cap. But at least that answered the mystery if Nikolaus's crown had hair or not -- it really did have hair. And he wasn't balding. Must be that he likes his hats.

"Mr. Stuka, I'd love to! If they know anything about dealing with working in and around the water and you think they could help, then I'd certainly love to speak with them about it." A statement that just so happens to fit with the context of his offer on the self-proclaimed "pirates". Funny how she knew things. At least it was away from the other relatives from classified military matters.

"Where are they located, and whom do I call on?"

He clasped his hands, looking at Shula with a smile so much unlike to what he used on his face. Angelic in a way. So unsuitable for the Colonel. An act.

"Let's say their Captain is an Ishvallan named Salazar. They live in the Northern region, close to the Briggs fortress... yes... it is quite cold." He pulls out a pen and notepad, scribbling on it the details quite dexterously, ripping the note off the hinges and shoving it to Shula's hand. Filled with details of their locations, how to find them, and their phone number. Particularly Salazar's.

"They are a bunch of weird ones, calling themselves pirates. If you know your geography, recall any waters that AREN'T frozen in the Northern regions?" He states in a jest.

[Shula Brighton]

The smile Mr. Stuka gave was something gentle and sweet and entirely unlike anything she'd seen of the MP before in the times she'd met with him. It was sweet, and reassuring, like it was letting her little heart that everything would be just fine; he was a very experienced MP, after all, and knew much more about the world than she did. It was a smile and person whose word she could trust. What a sweet little lie that she ate right up.

"Let's say their Captain is an Ishvallan named Salazar. They live in the Northern region, close to the Briggs fortress... yes... it is quite cold." A small pad of paper and pen were pulled out and the Colonel began scribbling names, numbers and a location down. Shula tilted her head curiously, watching. Her face was the picture of small animal watching something until the little slip of paper was shoved into her hand. Salazar... Good Ishvallan name. This alone piqued Shula's interest; she'd had so little interaction with other Ishvallans that she wasn't related to. Meeting one who happened to be a... Wait, Captain? Was he a militant like she was?

"They are a bunch of weird ones, calling themselves pirates. If you know your geography, recall any waters that AREN'T frozen in the Northern regions?" Hold the PHONE. Something lit up in Shula's mind that sparkled in her eyes brilliantly. PIRATES?!?! REAL pirates?! Something went giddy inside the little officer. How many stories had Aaron read to her when she was little that involved pirates? Pirates having epic adventures in warm places she'd never see, grand battles with pistols and cutlasses... How many times had they played pirates and chased each other around the house with plastic swords and having whole arguments consisting of the word "YAR"? Shula nearly let out a noise that would have rivaled a box of kittens for cuteness morphed into a fangirlish squee of happiness. Almost.

Shula looked the note over again, hardly containing herself, before she tucked the information into her pocket. "Of all places, near Briggs... Sailing the seven ice drifts, I guess." Shula giggled a little, letting the wheels turn in her head. Silly as she could be, she did like going into things with a plan that was more than half-baked (even though that seemed to be rather common as she was noticing). South was rebuilding. She'd helped ensure the gardens would produce enough food to feed people and make work. Places were getting built, and businesses were coming in. There was work, and there was money. Soon, there would be a fully functional waterpark, destined to be the largest in the country if not the continent. Having pirates in the bay, as long as they could behave...could be very profitable for the whole area.

Pirates were notorious for being criminals, and though every city unfortunately had it's amount of crime, there was nothing to say you couldn't hire criminals to protect an area from other, worse criminals, now was there? And being the largest body of water in the continent, especially in a land-locked area like Amestris, that would naturally bring in tourists. Pirates roaming the hundred-mile lake would definitely bring in curious on-lookers. Encourage them to stay at the hotels. Revenue into the city. The idea sounded better and better, and finally Shula grinned happily/

"Mr. Stuka, thank you! Soon as I have a quiet moment after work, I'll give them a call to see if they' like to talk to me... I'll come up with a few proposals and see what they think." She could have hugged him, she really could have. "This will REALLY help the area, I think. Thank you so much." It didn't matter now if she stayed out the rest of the day to play hooky from her office; her obejective when she got home was clear: come up with a business offer and call the pirates. She didn't know when she would get a chance to go to them if they'd have her, but the worst they could say was no, right?

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