Time in the Trenches

[Guest]

The White House was particularly busy, considering the circumstances. It was late at night, after the tours had stopped prowling through the halls and papers put away for the night. Even Dietrich stood in his office, eyeing the time on his pocketwatch. His people needed something to celebrate, something to enjoy. He world was looking a bit grim as of late, and, as such, morale was down.

So, there were celebrations. Invitations were sent out to some of the more trusted staff and soldiers for Dietrich’s own private reception, but some lucky soldiers got them as well. It wasn’t the time to be picky. It was a time to show the Royal Task Force that he understood their needs.

Although a formal affair, Dietrich had no dress code requirements. He figured it’d be best to keep things more casual. Out with the fine foods and ballroom dancing, more entertainment. Slipping into his suit jacket, he scans himself in the mirror, to make sure he’s presentable. ”Perfect,” he says, starting to make his way to the foyer.

And now, it was a matter of waiting.

[Guest]

The bus glided down the road to the facade that hid the White House, stopping at the middle and letting the only passenger off. It was not that the stop was the last of the bus' journey, but that the lonely passenger had very much frightened all the others. It was not hard to see why; automail was not commonplace, but four great tendrils making a habit of coiling around the seats, growing out of the back of a man with as many scars as he had piercings, was an alarming sight to never be forgotten. All made their excuses and left, and now Pancake stepped out into the street, the humid warmth of the Cretan spring night wrapping around him.

"This had better be fucking good," Pancake mumbled to himself, lifting himself off the ground with Inky and Blinky, before Pinky and Clyde moved forward, and the arms marched forward as his legs hung limply under him. He was still in a half-asleep stupor; the postman had to wake him up half an hour ago when the invitation came. On behalf of Lord Dietrich von Vermont, every member of the Cretan Royal Task Force - and, indeed, other departments - is cordially invited to a prestigious event at the White House.

Well, it's not going to be the Netherfield Ball but I might as well go, he had thought to himself. Besides, I've done nothing but sleep since I've gotten here, I might as well get back into the swing of things. He was waved past the security; they knew he was on the list and they didn't really need to ask for a name; Pancake's face was not one that could be forgotten no matter how hard one may want to. As he marched onwards, Pancake thought about the plan to the night;

Step 1) Get rat-faced.
Step 2) Get in a fight.
Step 3) Get in a fight with the police.
Step 4) End up in someone else's bed, either a chick's or a holding cell bench, depending on the success of Step 3.
Step 5) Go home and curl up with a copy of Austen's Northanger Abbey until some war inevitably kicked off or someone higher-up caught wind of all the war crimes he had committed and discharged him.

It sounded good to him. So it was with laziness but excitement that Pancake's arm stomped down the corridor until he slammed the foyer doors open.

"Right! Who's ready to get... pissed... ah fuck, there's no one here." He mournfully sighed, looking around.

The foyer was, indeed, completely empty, with only his echoing voice for company. The grandeur of the White House was turned to an eiree misery at how empty the foyer was for now, with only a large buffet table laid out somewhat close to his left, with many fine but not particular tasty appetisers across it. The marble tinted halls extended wide and high, emphasising the lonliness of it all. Pancake grumbled to himself, not considering the idea that many would come and he just happened to be the first, using one of his arms to grab a glass of red wine. "Step one." He almost spat in disappointment, before gulping the entire contents and carelessly throwing the glass behind him, shattering it spectacularly across the floor.

[Guest]

A slender woman perched comfortably in the back of a cab as it drove her from her apartment in Creta to the White House, capital building of the country. How long had it been since she had stepped foot in this country? It felt like a really long time... Her long legs were crossed, her feet slipped into a comfortable pair of black heels that were reminiscent of sandals. Her body was covered with a western sort of dress thats fabric was patterned like a Xingese dress. The sleeves only wrapped around the top four inches of her biceps by her shoulders and her back was bare down to just below her shoulder blades. A tasteful necklace glittered about her pale neck, purple hair hanging on either side of her face per usual. It was handy to have short hair. You never had to worry about what style to put it up in, you know?

The car pulled up to a stop before the luxurious building, the lovely woman slipping the man a bill while sliding out of the car. "Keep the change." The man blinked and nodded to her, watching as she closed the door before pulling away. Heh, his expression had been priceless! Ah, but now it was for more formal matters. Adjusting a bracelet on her wrist, she began the ascent into the halls of Creta's headquarters. She wasn't quite sure who to expect here since she had been rather out of touch with Creta ever since the pirates moved down to southern Amestris. But they were on water now! And that was fantastic. Though... She did have to move Edi and that was a royal pain in the ass, BUT it was done now! So whoo! The guards at the doors nodded to her when they saw her invitation that was retrieved from a small purse at her side, allowing her entrance into the building.

Rebecca was shocked, she had been amongst the first to arrive? Since when had that proven true? Someone should record this quickly for it wouldn't last! As the doors closed behind her, the sound of shattering glass reached her quickly and she couldn't help but react with readiness to attack. But it turned out that it was just the other guest that was there. Well... this should prove.... interesting. "I'm pre'y sure tha' our host wouldn' appreciate tha'." She called as she stepped further into the room, casting her crimson eyes about to admire the decor. Ahh, it must be good to be king hm? And speaking of, she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye, noticing that Dietrich had appeared. Bowing as opposed to curtsying, she couldn't help but smirk a little as she straightened up. "Evenin' m'lord."

[Guest]

Deity hated to be around people.. so why was she here? Her eyes a bit dull with their brown colors, she would sigh and grab another glass off of a table. Her body was placed upon a seat with one leg crossed over the other. Her skin burned from the prolonged exposure, but there was no real worry for it. Her breath would falter while she poured the liquid back and yet all too soon was back to normal. This was irritating. These people didn't know her, nor did they want to know her. Rather that's what she thought. After all, it seemed every time she got close to someone they assumed she was some sort of snooty person. Though that was partially her fault.

Her attire was a simple black dress that wrapped around her body to form a strap on one shoulder and left the other bare. Her skin showing, but not overly so. The length of the dress reach her knees and would cling tight to her curves. Around her neck would be a string of silver falling into a teardrop of shining white crystal. Yes a simple diamond necklace worked with the basic diamond dots as her earrings. She felt a bit out of place with her flashy attire, but she had assumed it to be a semi-formal get together. At least she felt pretty. Though that was an odd feeling altogether.

Hr hands moved to pull back her brown hair. Some of the bangs would fall to the left side of her face; too long and too short at the same time. They would frame the soft curve nicely though and show off her neck a bit. Of course she wasn't trying to show off, instead she was simply getting the hair off her neck. There was a possibility a lot of people would be here and then it would be hot. It was better to take precautions now before there were too many people there. Her hand soon held her chin within her pal as her hair dangled in a ponytail. Eyes a bit distant and in thought as she absentmindedly moved her other hand to fix her strapped, black shoes. After a little while she would probably go home. Her parents simply demanded she go and socialize. She was in her own world for now.

[Guest]

Most people had dressed up for what could really be considered a special occasion - without a doubt, one of the more formal of the year. Zen, however, for the night, had simply shed his grimy lucky blue overcoat, straightened up his tie, and tucked in his shirt. From gritty street detective to ball-goer in seconds.

In truth, having grown up in the lower-middle class, Zen really kind of hated events like this. And, in Creta, they were such a big deal; so much fuss was made about the arrival of the Aerugese food ambassador, or the arrival of the most learned keymaker, or constructor of timepieces. Politics was just too much bullshit - sure, he was an analyst, and a detective, but acting and actively mirroring the amount of shit that people spouted compulsively was too much for him.

He parked the Exige himself; rule one of formal events, never trust the valets. Pulling into a tight space with almost uncanny precision, Zen left Calamity unloaded and in the glove compartment, slamming it shut and clicking the lock into place in a single, fluid movement. However, the dice still sat firmly in his breast pocket, along with cards, cigarettes, and a mobile phone in his trousers.

Adjusting a black tie - special occasion, of course - atop a dreary yet supposedly rather 'pleasant' grim yellow shirt, Zen rolled his sleeves down and buttoned his cuffs up. He ensured every button was done up, then left it a couple of seconds and checked again, catching another loose one on the run - god, keeping up appearances was easily the hardest part of this job. And if he didn't do it properly, the pernickety bastard that he was, Vermont would have his balls for it.

Tugging the keys from the ignition, opening the door, stepping out, and locking the car was all simple, and completed in a matter of moments; stealthily slaloming around further valets who offered to take care of coats or belongings in such a paranoid manner was a little more complex, but nothing too intense for a learned detective such as Zenith Howla', investigata' extraordinaire.

Reaching the rather grandiose front doors, at the nagging of around six separate catering and valet staff dressed in pompous little red waistcoats, Zen did spit his butt out into the flowerbeds, but not before shooting each of them a rather dirty look, wary still of the badge and identity card clipped to a plain black belt.

He had swapped for some more formal - and, thus, more restricting - wear for his lower body, however, now garbed in dress slacks and appropriate patterned shoes. This was the third time he'd ever dressed up formally for a compulsory meeting like this since taking the job, and, already, the detective felt his stomach churning ominously as he tore straight through the dark cloud of bullshit hanging over the room, playing rack and ass analyst for a moment to entertain himself.

God, his balls were chafing in the slacks. Not good. Not good at all. A few subtle itches went unnoticed by the vast majority of people there, but Zen let himself get carried away in the facial expressions as he looked over the room time and time again, getting a dirty look from a Gelemortian waiter carrying a silver platter of cheese. In response, when he turned around, Zen flipped him the bird.

"Seven, seven, eight, six, nine," That one came with a whistle. Dietrich hadn't been too shabby with the guest list so far. "Six, six, eight, seven, eight and a half, nin- hot damn, is that..." Zen quietened down slowly as his eyes fell upon a woman in a rather simple black dress. He whistled - far more subtly than usual - as he realised that the curves brought a look of recognition to his pallor - that was an arched back he knew, legs that weren't totally unfamiliar. For a moment or not, Zen wasn't sure if she was another failed conquest, then the thought slammed into his mind like a freight-train: Deity Silver. His subordinate.

Ah, fuck. There was no way she was falling for the 'I've-dropped-my-pencil' trick. Too sharp.

Zen grimaced and rolled his eyes, slumping back into a chair and grabbing a conveniently-placed and half-drunk measure of whiskey from nearby, taking a liberal sip of the warm and hopefully cask-matured ancient liquid. Tonight was going to be far longer than anticipated... and it wasn't exactly going to be mildly interesting, either...

[Guest]

Violet sighed in distress. Late as always! Why was she late to everything!? She'd always plan ahead so she'd have time to get there, but something always came up. Be it a traffic jam, forgot something and to turn back, or the infamous 'took too long to get ready.' It was as if she was fated to be late to everything, and indeed this was a sad fate.

If there were ever a time to be late, today was not the one however, for it was her first time meeting some of the other militants since her start in the RTF earlier this week. More importantly, her first time meeting Prime Minister to Creta himself, Lord Dietrich! Being late was not acceptable tonight, and yet here she was, running as fast as she could to get there on time. She was thankful for her genetic enhancements and rigorous training tonight though, because without them she wouldn't have made it. Many people looked at her strange as she ran the streets of London, heading towards the White House. Blue didn't care though, she was focused on her goal, reaching her destination before she was late!

Her dress for tonight was a beautiful yet simple navy blue dress and some black flats. Her heels were in her purse, which flopped around her shoulder as she sped towards the center of London. Screeching around the corner of the fences surrounding the property, she slowed to a halt near the entrance, the guards giving her strange looks. "Made it..." she said with a big huff of air, barely breaking a sweat from that run. Thank you super speed and endurance. Fixing her hair and dress quickly, she switched her flats with her heels and made her way inside, smiling awkwardly at the guards who continued to give her strange looks. "Great first impression Vi," she mumbled under her breath. A few moments later she entered the main hall, a few people dotted here and there. Not a large crowd, surprising enough. More people were making their way in behind her, many she had run passed on the way here. Woopsie... that's what she got for reading her watch wrong. Again...

Sighing, she walked over to the bar. "What'll it be miss?" the man behind the bar said. "Have any Dr. Pepper?" she asked, somewhat feeling like a little kid for ordering soda from a bar. The guy cocked his eyebrow, chuckled lightly and walked over to the fountain, beginning to make her soda. Sitting on the stool, she swiveled it slightly to face the hall. Should be a big crowd tonight, and should be interesting. A Dr. Pepper appeared behind her, the man looking at her with a smile. Kind and genuine, strange for a barkeep. "Thank you!" she said with a smile, taking the Dr. Pepper and handing him the appropriate amount for it. Looking back out at the people again, she saw Lord Dietrich on the other side of the room. Just seeing him made her sit slightly straighter on the stool. "Tonight should be interesting indeed."

[Csilla Angelis]

{BUMP}

[Guest]

Deity seemed to keep to herself. Her dainty and feminine fingers locked around her glass while she nursed it like ambrosia from the Gods themselves. If there were any that was. Deity was passed believing in Gods and if they DID exist she loved them about as much as they showed their love to her. With a family of high expectations and the only person she expected to understand her was the one who hated her. A sting of pain shot through her body and made her eyes dip.

Such sorrow always filled those brown eyes. The pain was almost able to be felt.. if you could get through the layer of ice outside. That glassy glaze that covered her true self and distorted it into what the world made of it. The scars on her body only a memory to the worst of the pain. Now she felt numb, as if the frozen wall had actually leaked into her body and killed the pain easier than most drugs. She still felt, but she ignored it. So much easier to deal when it's simply suppressed. A pain hidden is one that was dealt with in her eyes. At least she had meaning... for now.

Distracted from her emotional pain, she would gaze upon the party guests. People drinking in a rather quiet way. A few familiar faces and a whistle catching her by the ear. Her head spun and she caught a glimpse of her boss. Well, her superior in her division. She didn't know much on him and a brow arched as she watched him find a seat. What was his deal? He seemed to be blatant, but Deity couldn't hear anything and simply shoved the thoughts aside.

He had his own business to be here, just like her. The brown locks fell over her shoulders as she turned to nod to the bartender. A young woman had rushed in, late. Deity gave her usual look of somewhat interest, completely ignoring Zen's presence. If he wanted to speak to her, he would. If not, they would continue knowing nothing about one another. Not that it bothered her. Either way she was fine with just sitting and waiting for the hours to pass.

[Guest]

Two. Three. Four.

Pancake was at the table where he found the most drinks and was simply gulping down everything his multiple arms could grab at. Red wine to whiskey to a tiny carton of Ribena to some lighter fluid - literally nothing was safe. Every single container he emptied, he threw uncaringly behind his head. It was only when he turned his head that Pancake even noticed other people come in, the carton of Ribena smacking into someone's head with an audible, wet 'pllllp' sound. Pancake didn't really bother looking over, his eyes scanning everyone in the room.

Now who would be fun to get into lots of trouble with, he wondered. His automail tendrils slammed into the floor and he lifted himself off the ground with a force that propelled him very high, his feet avoiding the shattered glass across the floor as he examined everyone in the room from an overhead position, each step his carbon fibre claws took smashing into the ground and pulling chucks of marble with each ascent. Finally, his attention snapped to a pretty young girl, dark hair and an even darker dress. But what caught Pancake's attention was her eyes - miserable. Angry. The kind of girl who would not take kind of his wild antics and violent nature. A very nasty, mischevious grin curled onto his face, baring every tooth he had. Perfect for starting the party off properly. In a swift motion, one of his tentacle's hooks caught her dress as Pancake lifted her a good six feet off the floor with as much ease as their was clumsiness.

"Oi! You!" He hollered very loudly at her. "You look like you're from here! D'you know when the party starts properly, 'coz it's as boring as fucking shit in here!" He really didn't care about the question he asked, more her reaction and the inevitable trouble he was going to kick off.

[Guest]

Doing his absolute best to comically slalom around everyone he did know, and begin flirting - and moments later, fucking up - with any female presence that he wasn't yet familiar with, Zen wasn't exactly adhering exactly to the plan. Luck wasn't really acting in his favour, today.

"Six, six, seven, eight and a half, seven..." So, he'd retracted to rating butts once more. It was simple, entertaining, and passed the time quickly; the last of the three was imperative in dreary events like this. When could he slip away? Folding back his sleeve to check a cheap, novelty wristwatch, Zen sighed to see yet that night hadn't fully converged; he'd been here for but half an hour, and it was only allowable to leave after two, and perhaps three.

Even then, if he tried to leave, he reckoned that Dietrich, almost drowning in a pool of his own ego, would make some snappy joke about 'investigating his peers', or 'always being alert', and force him back into the fray of the party, social awkwardness in tow. Zen slumped back into the chair and sighed, letting his head dip against his shoulder and waiting for the nicotine withdrawal to kick in. Half an hour was seeming like too long between cigs...

Over the next ten minutes or so, Zen felt his consciousness dip back and forth, as his vision became dark, and blurry. A few waiters were initially investigating him - including the smarmy Gelemortian one that Zen had so eagerly flipped the bird at - but as Pancake picked up Deity with one of his tentacles in the corner, his falling asleep seemed to be of a lesser priority than the jackass' causing all manner of chaos.

Wait, what?

Zen snorted and waved his arms about wildly as he rose upwards, trying to raise his eyelids, no matter how much it felt as if they were lined with lead. "...eh?" He rubbed his eyes and felt the lethargy hit; his muscles were sluggish, and moving improperly, and waited for his pupils to adjust, narrow due to the light that was definitely far too close for comfort, and then fall upon Pancake apparently molesting Deity, like he'd seen earlier.

Oh, this was fucking excellent.

As the fact hit him for the second time in the row, once more, he waved his arms crazily and fell forwards out of his chair, slumping down onto his face. However, this time, within a minute, the adrenaline - or, at least, the semblance of it - had counteracted the initial stages of lethargy, and Zen sighed, sauntering over to the pair of them, and pushing waiters aside, as he tapped on Pancake's shoulder.

"Listen, bud, I'm not pullin' the knight-in-shinin'-arma' gig here or anythin'," He stared up at Pancake's automail prosthetics. Whoa boy, they seemed pretty lethal, at this range. Zen winced, grimaced, tried to look away, and stepped back a little. Now he remembered... this guy was pretty renowned for his lethality throughout IA. Possible terrorist motives. "I mean, she's my subordinate an' all, just that... well..." Zen took a long, drawing sniff, and then sighed. "Iunno, put her down or somethin'. People are starin'."

[Guest]

Oh the beauty of the being alone. She had treasured it. her eyes had been locked on a distant land foreign to even her own comprehension. This safety zone where neither pain nor pleasure joined her. They were simply words in a numbed fantasy land that made her feel oddly warm. Was she that much of a lightweight? The glass in her hand was dropped as suddenly she felt herself lifted from her seat. Such an odd shift in her center of gravity and a reality check had brought her to this world. A horrible one.

Up in the air was not her forte. Her legs would almost flail but she would of course remember being in a dress. Her first reaction a shout of surprise and the following of her pulling down her dress. A red hue on her cheeks as her brown bangs fell over her fair cheeks. She indeed looked a bit of a mess in a frantic panic. One shoe fell off and Deity would silently curse the way she sounded like a damsel in distress. A sudden over whelming feeling of rage burnt into her very look of rage at this captor. Her body experienced a tremor of rage as she would wiggle a bit in her position and try to fix herself.

Why did she get stuck in these ridiculous positions? A moment of truly wishing she was dead from the embarrassment. A limit not good for her to reach. How people annoyed her. This man, she didn't know him and frankly she didn't want to. Using her other foot, she'd let the falling heel swing with a kick of that leg and of course the shoe would go plummeting at an angle towards the man and the floor. It hit the floor with a loud thump as she glared at him without answer to his question. He dared to treat her in such a disrespectful way? Then no answers should he have.

As her head dipped low again, she debated on the best possible way to go about this situation. Then her leader, Howler, walked forward in a rather sluggish manner. Deity felt a pang of desperation hit her. She had to be saved.. and by all people, her boss? Oh how humiliating. Indeed she was fitting her position as the stupid jewel of that cursed Silver family. Why couldn't she have her sister's life?

Her eyes showed an irritation along with a sigh. This was not how this day was supposed to be. So he had stirred people to stare as her boss had claimed. It was true. This made Deity even angrier. "Ugh.. My luck.." She would hiss under her breath as she shot a glare at a particularly interested bystander. She didn't want this to be the big topic for the next week. An officer looking defenseless like this was.. pathetic. Her hand would grab at the 'tentacle' thing and grip it tightly. "I don't like being man-handled.." Of course there really wasn't much she could do.. in a dress.

[Guest]

Pancake's reply to his captive's hateful rage was apathetic at best.

A shoe was flung his way, landing harmlessly in front of his feet, and Deity's glower was one that could cause lions to cower, but Pancake was completely untouched, simply bemused by the woman's struggles. In fact, he was disappointed. He wanted a little more screaming, an attempt to break the tendril and a very loud death threat, but she just glared at him. It was almost boring to him. He wanted her to try and kick at his face. He wanted blood.

A tap on his shoulder.

"Listen, bud, I'm not pullin' the knight-in-shinin'-arma' gig here or anythin',"

"Oh," thought Pancake. "Oh this is going to be gold." He nonchalantly turned his head to the man who addressed him, a scruffy drunk, shorter than Pancake by over ten centimetres and looking more and more nervous and smaller with every second. Pancake smashed two of his tentacles down in the ground and used them to raise himself off the ground by an inch, just so he towered over him.

"I mean, she's my subordinate an' all, just that... well... Iunno, put her down or somethin'. People are starin'." He finished. Pancake's lips curled as he bared every single teeth of his in a malicious and gleeful grin.

"Clearly you aren't used to being the knight in shining armour!" He barked, his last free tentacle curling just behind the man's feet, ready to trip him up. "I'm just having a word with your girlfriend here, so why don't you sit down and don't pick a fight with the guy with four extra arms! HA!" Pancake laughed very harshly, forcing his hand onto Zen's chest and pushing him back, hoping that the tentacle would trip him up. He gave a very wide grin again. "Come on, dude. Hit me. Right in the jaw. See what happens." Pancake thought; he considered even extending his chin, just begging for an extremely hard sock in the face. Any reason to start a fight and show off his strength.

Suddenly, Pancake felt a tug and lurched to the side, almost falling from his midair perch. His eyes shot right back to his captive; she had stopped holding her dress down and was trying to twist his arm around and get free from his iron grip. "I don't like being manhandled!" She seethed; her twist was weak but it was at an odd enough angle to cause Pancake to stumble, before he tightened his grip, now wrapping the tendril around her stomach as hard as he could.

"You might wanna be more careful with that, dear, or i might just drop you." He growled; he was asking for a fight, certainly, but this woman who he had hanging by a thread had thrown him off balance and made him look clumsy. Weak. His blood was already beginning to boil. If there was one thing Pancake hated hated hated, it was looking weak. He grinned again as he regained himself and clamped on her harder than ever. "It's a good six feet down, you could sprain your ankle." He teased with humour, though his voice still suggested a lot of danger.

[Guest]

"I'm just having a word with your girlfriend here, so why don't you sit down and don't pick a fight with the guy with four extra arms! HA!" Zen rolled his eyes. The violent ones, right. Clearly he'd made an oversight when scanning this guy over in his mind. Ah, fuck, was it worth it? So much was leaning in the direction of 'no' - the only thing he had over this guy was a pistol, and Zen thoroughly knew from previous experience that brandishing a firearm in a public event never made things any better.

"Never said I cared whatcha' did, buddy," Zen sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets, and turning around. "You do whateva' the hell ya' like, no-one messes with ya', I undastand that," Zen was rolling his eyes, and let an audible sigh escape, wary for any moment of, probably, a prosthetic metal tendril slamming into the base of his skull. Or the back of Deity's hand. He was pretty much leaving her to this guy, who seemed like a bit of an ass on principle.

It was all reverse psychology, though. As much of an idiot as he was, Zen knew the stats - over 93% of the cases that had resulted in officer suspension came from fights with other militants. Pissing off Pancake, sure, he'd look like the big guy, but he was sure as all hell he'd end up with a good few welts and a reprimand on his record. The IA officer shrugged his coat back on swiftly, and began to walk away, eyelids still firmly closed, as he yawned.

Let the guy think he'd won! Yeah, that was the trick. Give him the shot to his ego, let him think that everything was fine, walk off, slick, composed, and looking like the coolest guy in the room. Go and have a smoke; without intervention, the guy'd get bored, put Deity down, or someone'd notice. The waiters were making enough fuss about it.

It wasn't Zen's fight. For once, he was happy to have made a-

Slip. Thud.

Pain. Sharp, spiking tendrils of it, lancing through the side of his face. Bruised skin throbbing with it; a sigh, and Zen rolled onto his back, rubbing his forehead. Backtracking a few moments, the officer quickly realised. He'd hit a slick of some spilt wine that Pancake had probably left from his rifling through all the drinks on the table he could find. And in an all-too-comedic fashion, he'd whirled both of his arms in a traditionally helicopter-esque fashion as he inevitably fell forwards, onto his face, losing his balance as he clutched at invisible, grease-laden ropes, scraping down the skin of his teeth, just as he thought he'd retained composure.

Zen heard the metaphorical smash resound through his head. The image had been shattered. Pancake would get satisfaction out of it all - no longer was he Mr. Cool Guy. Deity would stay suspended in the air, he'd keep taunting the pair of them, and for all of it, Zen was the worst off, with a large series of bumps rising up along the right side of his head.

"Ah, fuck," He scrabbled comically at the air, the illusion smashed - Zen could be Zen, now. Defeated, he allowed his muscles to relax, arms and legs flopping back onto the floor - obviously, at least two of his limbs inadvertently in red wine. The Warrant Officer noticed the alcohol seeping into his rather expensive formal longcoat all too late, and rolled out of it haphazardly like a pig out of mud. "IS IT TOO MUCH FOR A GUY TA' JUST WANT TA' GO OUTSIDE AND HAVE A SMOKE!?" Luck wasn't ever really on Zen's side, was it?

[Guest]

Rebecca's attention was immediately drawn as the rather rude soldier continued his tirade of throwing bottles carelessly aside. What did cause her eyebrows to raise were the metallic arms that shot out of him, and that was beginning to give her some idea's. Did that mean he could be hacked? Ooooo she did want to hack him. What in the world was his problem anyways? This was supposed to be a party to relax, not start fights like some grimy bar. So much for a peaceful evening at the palace hm?

The young Spectre grimaced as she turned to face the room now, narrowing her eyes as Pancake's antics only grew worse upon the arrival of two more soldiers. Downing the rest of her wine from a glass, she placed it upon an empty tray as a butler swung by her looking rather uncomfortable at the events of the evening so far. For the moment she gathered up the skirt of her dress and proceeded to a good vantage point to continue her observations. She didn't wish to make any attempts to do what she did best unless she was absolutely sure. After all, it would probably result in the same issue she ran into in Drachma with that girl in the giant mecha suit. Would she be hacking his brain if he was part machine? Would she accidentally do irreparable damage if she tried to short out some circuits? Or were they simply automail? If it were the latter, then there was really nothing she could do in terms of a system take-over. So she sighed heavily once more and her eyebrow twitched at the treatment of the lady.

Now he was crossing a line.

Rebecca slid a hand into the folds of her purse, removing an iPad of sorts that she had built for herself and Edi since she needed her AI to be more mobile than she had been before. Touching a finger to her ear, she turned more towards a corner, whispering, "Edi, are you seeing this?" The response came through in the earbud that was very well hidden on her person, echoing down into her eardrum. "Yes Rebecca. The security camera's are also offering a good view. What do you propose we do?" She couldn't help but smirk and turn back to see that the man had gotten knocked to the ground. "IS IT TOO MUCH FOR A GUY TA' JUST WANT TA' GO OUTSIDE AND HAVE A SMOKE!?" "Apparently, i' is." She murmured under her breath, running through a list of things that she had brought with her to this party. Nothing much. Sigh.

"Those arms are automail. I will be of little help to you." Damn. "Fantastic. Well, keep updated." "Of course." So what in the world could she do? "OI. IS THA' ANY WAY TO TREA' A LADY HM?" She barked from her corner at Pancake, an easy smirk rising to her lips as she brushed a few purple strands from her features. Her crimson eyes glinted as she strode up with a hand on her hip, thankful for the fact her dress accented her womanly figure. "No' even a first da' an you go throwin' her around in the air. Tsk tsk my good sir, tsk tsk." Being a distraction was always good. She just hoped that the man would pick up on that and do something to help his subordinate. "Why dun you come down wi' the pretty lady and we could chat." Please let distracting work.

[Guest]

Oh that awkward moment when someone comes to help then walks away. What exactly had just happened? Her eyes were a bit confused as she shot them towards the man. A look of slight dismay, confusion and frustration. Zen would probably have an earful later. Though she doubted he would even care. She knew how he was and in fact he might enjoy being yelled at.. if it allowed him to stare at either her chest or her ass. The damn pervert. Oh well, she didn't mind it that much. It was irritating though. Making eye contact was nearly impossible. Wait.. why was she complaining about Zen, she had someone else to complain about.

With her hand on the arm of this strange and violent man, she would grip harder and wiggle more. Like she cared if she sprained her ankle. Her body would feel a bit like she was dangling from the height. Her eyes caught sight of someone pushing another, Zen slipping and falling. How embarrassing. Was he drunk or just clumsy? Her boss.. just left a bad impression on her mind as she shook her head. Her body continued to squirm and move to get the hand to let go. She'd aim her other shoe for his face, again.

"Like I'm afraid of a little pain." Deity despised being a damsel in distress. It was one of her pet peeves and something she utterly hated with all her being. SO this man would face her fury.. if she could get his arms to let her go. Those narrowed and angry eyes bore into his soul before she shot her look to a woman. Instead of rage, she was puzzled. Who was this woman? Not someone she met, but she was.. helping? Deity felt a pang of shame shoot through her body. She needed more than a single person's help? Her family would never let her hear the end of this.

She had a strong accent that Deity had to admit was kind of cute. She was almost jealous for a moment, but now was not the time. Her face showed a bit of gratefulness as she debated on her next move, whether he let go or not. Her breath letting out a low grunt, as she tried to fix her positioning. "Put. Me. Down. NOW!"

[Guest]

"Like I'm afraid of a little pain." Came the response, and the woman struggled ever more, a fiery death glare burning into Pancake' own eyes.

"Oh, I can make you afraid of it, believe me." He warned her. He treat her anger more with curiosity than the fear she most likely hoped for and kept his gaze on her, only one of his four tentacles controlling her and the rest focusing on keeping him in a midair perch, hanging lazily as he watched her. A shoe came right at him and crashed into his face, but the reaction was minimal, if not amusing to him. He seemed to let the thing hit him simply to judge her strength.

"OI. IS THA' ANY WAY TO TREA' A LADY HM?"

Pancake didn't turn immediately, letting the atmosphere become ever heavier. He lowered himself like a bird landing from flight, before turning around. A purple haired woman with an admirable figure, obviously not of Cretan descent. The cogs in his brain worked to identify her origin, before he worked it out; irritatingly, she was Xing born. The second place to kick him out. He approached her on lightning fast strikes to the ground, the tentacles dragging him over, appearing before her in a flash. He held himself slightly above her, just so he could look bigger than ever. It sent the drunk away in fear, why not this woman? "No' even a first da' an you go throwin' her around in the air. Tsk tsk my good sir, tsk tsk. Why dun you come down wi' the pretty lady and we could chat." Pancake's only initial response was to shift even closer until his forehead touched hers, his nose on hers as he replied with a glare that could crack stone, and his bared teeth in a horrible grin.

"Talk with your fist, babe. Right in the face, I won't stop you." He taunted her, before slowly shifting back, giving her room. He even lowered his captive, not to the ground but to show that there was no trap. He was begging for her to show him what she was made of; as learned in many tongues he was, violence was the only language Pancake knew, and he was itching for a response. "Do it."

[Guest]

"Apparently, i' is." Zen's ears pricked up, and he sat up slowly, still very much unaware of the sopping wet patch of red wine on his back, staring towards the accented girl as she ran towards Pancake. Huh. She was kinda cute. Pulling himself up with a grunt, Zen began to feel the wetness seeping into his shirt proper.

"Ah, fucknuts," The officer spoke, shrugging off the coat before it stained his off-yellow workshirt, and turning it around to take a quick look at it. Wait a minute... that smell... Zen looked down at the patch he'd been lying in. Ah, just great. "AH, FUCKNUTS." He repeated.

Rifling through the hanging, sopping wet, and red-wine-dripping jacket, Zen pulled out his cigarettes, his keys, his lighter, and a small pouch of dice. He heard various people around swelling and looking into the hubbub, staring both at he and the scene with Deity. A significant number of them gasped when he turned to reveal the Beretta, Calamity, hanging limp - and inert - in his shoulder holster. Zen didn't really care, any more. They could go fu- screw themselves.

Folding the coat over the patch, to ensure the wetness didn't spread to his shirt, Zen lifted the dripping, fabric mass over his shoulder, and hopped swiftly over the puddle of red wine and glass fragments, waving casually to Pancake, Deity, and the other girl, behind him. He didn't want to have to deal with either of the first two - especially not Deity, simulating how pissed off she'd be that he'd left her in his total apathy - but if the other, accented girl followed him out for a smoke, maybe he wouldn't mind. She was cute, and seemed well-mannered enough, at least.

Another sigh, and Zen pushed through the crowd, catching another snap of the Gelemortian waiter, in all his snootiness. Growling audibly at him, the Internal Affairs officer pushed past, propped a cigarette into his mouth, and quickly exited the ballroom, taking the double doors out and brandishing his lighter, sparking up and singing the end of the cigarette with ease.

Taking a seat on a small, ornate stone ledge, in front of one of the grandiose carved pillars, Zen threw his legs up onto it and let his head fall back against the whitened stone, cigarette propped up as he inhaled a long draw of smoke and exhaled a sigh almost simultaneously - it took a decent amount of practise. "Jesus, even when I'm not workin', shit catches up to me..." Muttering, the Cretan shifted to the right, slightly, to tap the cigarette into the flowerbeds, just hoping the valets didn't come to harass him. Or Pancake. Or Deity.

Zen eyed the Exige from his vantage point, sighing. So much for going home with someone tonight. He doubled back, and squinted towards the doors, taking a long sniff before puffing out a cloud of wispy grey smoke, which dissipated all-too-quickly into the night. Obviously, that girl with the accent was far too concerned with, y'know, chaos, in general.

Another wayward glance fell upon the car, and then down to the pack of cigarettes in his hand, before finally upon the sweet, half-burnt, cancerous deathstick sitting between his lips as he sucked and drew upon it. One more smoke... then he'd go.

[Guest]

"Put. Me. Down. NOW!" Thats right ya bugger, put the lady down now. Rebecca may lose her patience. And that wouldn't be very pretty at all. Not at all. "Oh, I can make you afraid of it, believe me." Tsk tsk, he wasn't making this any better for himself. She sighed lightly and shook her head, staring up at the man as she adjusted one of the bracelets on her wrist. How many rings did she have on tonight? Probably not enough. Not NEARLY enough. Nor did she have enough gadgets at all to really make this at all satisfying. Curse her logical decision that a party wouldn't be the place of any potential fights. God she hated when men got like this. Was he trying to intimidate her? What with his delayed reaction, and sudden descent upon her. She stared up at him cooly, the ice-yness only growing in her gaze though her expression remained pretty much the same.

Ok. Now he was just breaking into her personal space. Forehead to forehead, and nose to nose does not a happy Rebecca make. Not unless it was... well... He wasn't around at the moment. Sad face. ANYWAYS. "Talk with your fist, babe. Right in the face, I won't stop you." As she saw the extra movement behind his face, her eyes darted to it, seeing that Deity was indeed lowering closer to the ground. Could she land on her feet? oh well. She'd find out. She at least wouldn't twist an ankle now. Turning her head slowly back to face Pancake, Rebecca's lids only lowered slightly, an eyebrow raising as if to offset the motion. "Do it." "Fair 'nuff." And with that, she simultaneously uppercutted him square in the jaw, and gave him a good slam in his solar plexus with her other hand. She wasn't sure, nor cared, how her bag swung. Hell, it could have hit him square in the balls for all she cared. All she knew, was that she gave him two punches straight from the devils own maw. Plenty of assholes knew that she gave one helluva punch.

Ah.. Much better. Stepping back, she turned away from him and slipped between his body and automail limbs to Deity, noticing that the man who had slipped in wine was going outside. "Y'need be'er friends love." She muttered with a shake of her head, reaching a hand to help the poor girl. "You alroigh'?"

[Guest]

The man was punched. Ouch that had to hurt! She could almost hear it crack as she slipped down from his grip. Well that had sucked. Her body fell down to the ground. Her foot was aching as it crashed into the ground. OW. She cursed softly and shook it off. the woman had helped her. A smile from Dei. Could she really smile? It seemed like it never happened. Her hand grabbed onto the offered hand and stood up. Her body jumped as the pain shot through her body. Oh the pain had hurt like a bitch frankly. She sighed a bit and would look off at Zen. Yeah he had diched her... ouch. She should talk t him about that, but she wouldn't. Instead, she dusted herself off.

"Thank you." She said in a kind voice before bowing her head and grabbed her shoes off the ground. She was ignoring the man now and would turn. "I apologize but.. this night is too much for me." She smiled in a sad way at the helper. She would owe the woman one, but there was no problems with that. Walking out, she shot Zen a look and shook her head. Why was he so.. confusing? Nevertheless, at least he.. tried? She murmured a thanks to him although half-hearted and left to find her own ride, not waiting for the valet. She just wanted to go home as she half limped away.

[topic exit]

[Guest]

BOMPFF!

Pancake took the entire force of both hits with gusto, but didn't quite react in the way anyone else would. He neither flinched nor stumbled, not even allowing a motion from his body, but he didn't feel that he knew how to immediately react; he was stuck between beating her into a bloody pulp and congratulating her and forcing her into a victory lap. He didn't even react as his captive struggled out of his grip and fell to the floor, or her departure. The cogs in his mind turned. The punches were definitely harder than most, to the point of being praise-worthy even from him, but Pancake knew in his heart of hearts that he was stronger than the purple haired beauty could ever be, and she had to learn that. After a moment's indecision, he rushed towards her and threw his fist into an almighty haymaker to her. It had a force behind it more akin to a comet than any punch from a normal man. He backed away from the woman after the punch...

... and his lips curled into a huge, cheerful grin.

"Ha! I like you already!" He cheered to the woman, locking her in a headlock that was more out of jest than actual malice, dragging her over to the table of drinks. "Drink time!" He let go to immediately down two more drinks at once, whatever he could grab. They could've been whisky, or wine, or some poorly placed lighter fluid. Whatever it was, he downed it. He looked back to the woman, a huge grin on his face as if this woman hadn't just punched him. His actions rarely followed any real world logic even when he hadn't been drinking, there was little reason to suspect the conditions would improve. "Where'd you learn to hit like that?"

[Guest]

Aw dammit... So she had fallen a bit farther than Rebecca would have hoped she had. At least she hadn't heard the snapping of bones so that meant that her ankle probably wasn't broken. But from the looks of it, it was definitely injured at least. Probably a sprain. "You should have finished that body for me so I could have-" "Shut up Edi." She mumbled under her breath, immediately calling up a smile in response to the one that Deity offered. She was a pretty little thing wasn't she? Rebecca had to hope that she wasn't subject to things like this often because she knew that it could get old really fast. "Thank you." "No' a problem miss. Men can be jerks, no doub' 'bout 'at. Sorry bou' tha' ankle though." She bowed her head and nodded, not really that surprised that she was going to call it a night. A bad ankle did that to you, and assholes like this guy with the tentacles. What, did he want to be Doc Oc that badly? "Comple'ly unnerstandable. Take care." Giving the girl a little two fingered salute, she watched her leave, and thus was unprepared for the fist that came crashing into her face.

BAM

She went spinning towards the ground, balancing herself as she used that momentum (and pain) to turn herself back to face the man, fists already up to prepare for a counter strike. Oooo, what the HELL was this guys issue? A nice bruise was swelling up at the corner of her lip, a small cut dribbling blood along the one side to match the crimson of her lipstick. The only reason she didn't retaliate with another one of her kicks or punches was the stupid grin that he wore. Well... that and he suddenly had her in a headlock. "Ha! I like you already!" Her eyebrow twitched as she was dragged along. "Drink time!" "Would you like some assistance Rebecca?" "Not... now..." She grumbled as she was finally released, hearing a beeping sound in her ear that probably meant Edi was laughing at her misfortune. Damned AI. She was SO going to mess with her when she got back. No body for her. Not yet. No way in hell.

Straightening up, her crimson eyes narrowed at the man as she picked up a napkin and dabbed the blood that dripped down her chin, the stinging barely registering as she aaaalmost glared at him. "Where'd you learn to hit like that?" Huh. So he was a man who judged others by action. Fan-frickin-tastic. "From places you will never see mate. Enjoy your drinks." Was her simple answer as she turned to go with her head held high, slipping out the doors of the White House in utter disgust. No... no she was not in any mood to deal with such a man. So she slowed to a stop upon the sight of the wine-stained man outside smoking his cigarette. Green hair.. a cigarette.. white.... She had to remind herself that he wasn't Meno. Man.... She was still a bit upset that she wasn't going to get to see him for a while buuuuuuuuut.... They HAD made that agreement..... Stepping up next to him, she sighed heavily, smoothing out her purple hair after the roughing up it had received. "Rough nigh'. D'ya need somethin' for those stains?" She asked him easily, already examining the extent of the damage. Aye... she could fix that.

[Guest]

"Rough nigh'. D'ya need somethin' for those stains?" Taking a drag from his freshly-lit cigarette, Zen Howler sighed and let his head fall back against the pillar, eyes closed. He drew back as much of the smoke as he could, before letting billowing clouds of it erupt forth from his mouth and nose, like a dragon.

And, then, he realised he was being spoken to.

Almost immediately, Zen jerked forwards, slamming his arched back against the pillar and sending pain lancing through his body. "Fuck!" He growled, his hands instinctively rushing towards the site of the impact, cocking his head up and straining his neck, before falling back against the pillar once more. "Sorry..." Zen mumbled humbly. Great skills with women.

Now to actually answer her question. A single eye flickered ajar and concentrated on her, and he hummed quietly, jerking a thumb towards the compacted longcoat now on the edge of the ledge, folded - the stains were spreading, but Zen didn't care. "Uh, yeah..." He said uneasily. He'd never really been one to deal with washing. Either his mother had taken care of it, or he'd head down to the laundromat. If something couldn't be fixed, Zen had a good eye for it, having learnt the hard way when all of his clothes came out beer-coloured at one point, but he probably wasn't as knowledgeable as Rebecca, from the sound of things. "If there's something you could do," Zen grunted, placing his hands onto the ledge, and pivoting around, letting his heels clack against the stone steps as he thrust his palms into his eyes, momentarily, wiping grime from them, before, finally, he looked back up at her, lethargic, tired, and with a bloodshot gaze. "Then I'd definitely appreciate it."

There was no use. He wasn't going to end up with her - what was the point? Just treating her as a friend, for once, and not a possible bedroom companion... maybe he'd get some adequate feedback. She seemed like a woman with at least a brain cell, too. The type that, y'know, usually didn't go for him.

Gruffly, Zen raised his cigarette towards her at breakneck speed, still far from the end, muttering in a hoarse voice, his tone gravely and exhausted. "Want some?"

[Guest]

As Rebecca observed the smoking man before her, she couldn't help but noticed how weary he was at this point in time. She wasn't quite sure if she'd go so far as to say world weary, but the man needed some sleep. Hardly surprised her to see he had a delayed reaction to her words, though his exact reaction did call forth a chuckle and wince from her. That... looked like it hurt. "Fuck!" "You alroigh' there mate?" She murmured, shaking her head at his apology. "No worries, you dun no 'arm to me. Jus yerself." She murmured with another low chuckle, following his gesture to the coat as it hung on the ledge.

Walking up to it, she flicked the bangles on her wrist back and turned it over, examining the damage that was done. Now did she pack it in her purse..... "Uh, yeah..." Her hands dug around in the seemingly tiny thing, but sometimes that was rather deceiving no? "If there's something you could do, then I'd definitely appreciate it." He had moved, she could tell by the sounds of it, but her eyes were focused upon the task at hand, pulling out what looked like a comb except for the fact it was rather lacking in the teeth of a comb. Pressing her fingers on either side of it, a soft blue glow emanated from part she pressed against the stain, slowly moving it along the whole surface. There was a very low hum that it made, but other than that it was rather silent. Within a moment or two, she had run over both sides of the fabric and the stain was slowly lessening and instead seeming more like a wet stain than anything else.

As she straightened up and turned to him, she found a cigarette being offered to her. "Want some?" Well.... Rebecca considered it for a few seconds, and then took the deathstick from him, only puffing on the smoke though it seemed as if she had actually inhaled. Exhaling in a smooth stream, the white cloud swirled into tendrils and dissipated into the air, her crimson eyes moving from the sight back to this exhausted man. "Thank ye sir. Well, your jacke' will jus be we' for a li'l whoile, but the stain is gone. Tha's the impor'an' par' mm?" She smiled and pressed on either side of the little device, sliding it back into the folds of her purse. Excellent, it had worked just as she planned it would. "If ye dun moind my askin, why does such a 'andsome man such as yerself, seem like he's been visited by hell an back?" If nothing else, then she could find out what division he was in and go from there. Oh! And duh, "Morgana Moncrieff. Sorry, I ge' ahead of moiself sometoimes." May as well use her alias even though she was sure she was among friends.

[Guest]

"No worries, you dun no 'arm to me. Jus yerself." Zen grinned, letting his head fall back as she took the cigarette from his grasp, nodding gently. That was always the way it happened. Murphy's law. The bane of his entire existence. Exhaling a smoke-laden sigh back into the atmosphere, Zen Howler yawned, completely unaware now that Rebecca was standing aside him, and not making any attempt to shield his mouth out of common courtesy - until, of course, he was finished.

Even then, he didn't flush, and just murmured in response. "Neva' happens any other way..." Another sigh and he looked to her exhaling the smoke, rich and creamy; his head was pounding, throbbing, beating like a drum, a continuous beat of pain and ache, dull thudding in his head, adding to the symphony of chaos this world so desperately needed, even if it was just a millionth of the whole.

"Thank ye sir. Well, your jacke' will jus be we' for a li'l whoile, but the stain is gone. Tha's the impor'an' par' mm?" Before her eyes, she had unsheathed a small, comb-like device, and seemingly rid his jacket of the stain, as it appeared to be dissipating into thin air itself. From what he remembered of basic chemistry, this was a complex enough process as it was, and Zen bucked his head forwards, staring with open, glaring eyes from her, to the coat, to the comb, to her pocket, and back up to her again. An inexplicable look sat upon his eyes. One, someone had been kind to him. Two, she'd just run a clear flaming track through science with use of her little... widget. Three... SOMEONE HAD BEEN KIND TO HIM!

"I... uh... wha... I... thanks..." Totally speechless, Zen took the coat back, setting it down upon the small stone wall at his side, folding it carefully, now that it was... un-ruined. He propped the cigarette back into his mouth, damp and slick with a touch of her saliva, as was a natural response, and looked back up to her, inhaling upon the cancerous stick. A smirk, and, finally, his eyelids eased back down to their regular position. It figured. With the stupendously moronic world of today they lived in, the fact that someone would spend billions patenting something as simple as that really shouldn't have perplexed him any more. "Useful li'l gadget..." He smiled, and she responded.

"If ye dun moind my askin, why does such a 'andsome man such as yerself, seem like he's been visited by hell an back?" Zen almost flushed, arching an eyebrow... 'andsome? She certainly had an accent on her... but it was pretty cute. His Brooklyn drawl didn't appeal to many people, and those that it did, he almost immediately pushed away with his inappropriately-placed innuendos-that-weren't-really-innuendos. A pang of red faded from his face, and Zen chuckled dryly, ready to respond.

"I work long hours," He spoke bluntly, before continuing. "Oh, an', bad luck seems ta' linga' 'round me like a death omen. Ya' get used ta' it afta' the first coupla' years, though," Zen spoke as if it was nothing, shrugging and puffing out the cigarette smoke again. Not too long afterwards, the strangely-clad lady responded once more.

"Morgana Moncrieff. Sorry, I ge' ahead of moiself sometoimes." Zen stifled a chuckle. If she thought THAT was getting ahead of herself... with a smile, he offered his hand out to Morgana, nodding slowly. She was attractive... very much so, and the prospect of a foreign woman, bringing along her culture and all - where was she from, Carraig? - was always exciting.

"Zenith Howla', investigata' extraordinaire," He said plainly, as if he was bored of the title already. "I work fa' Dietrich. Head of IA, so don't be surprised if we meet again in relation to some case or summat'," Zen explained for a moment, his tone heavy, before he smiled back at her uncannily, gesturing to her pocket as he finished shaking her hand. "Ya' might have ta' tell me where I can get one. My clothes get stained a lot, if ya' know what I mean."

Only moments after he'd finished the sentence, Zen smacked his head back against the pillar and let his eyelids shut. Jesus H. Fucking Christ, how was he so ridiculously stupid and conversationally inept!? It was if he was a cyborg, with some self-implanted cockblocking module installed. He had MEANT to insinuate he was a hard partier, or maybe a musclebound badass beneath the skin... the undercurrent and mood had NEVER meant to be a euphemism like that. "I... didn't.. it was..." Now came the stutters as he tried desperately to explain himself. "Ah, fuck it," And not a moment after the inexplicable wave of them, a submission. She'd probably just slap him and leave him in peace.

Hell, hopefully, she'd slap him and leave him in peace. He wasn't sure he'd be able to face her again after a blunder like that.

Zenith Howler, cockblock extraordinaire.

[Guest]

"Neva' happens any other way..." Now wasn't that just depressing hm? Man was beginning to seem far too depressing for his own good, though maybe that was his exhaustion speaking. She really hoped it was the later. Sometimes Edi had to remind her that she wasn't a machine and needed sleep. Even when she was working on new algorithms, gadgets, programs, gathering data/information, or just staying up because she was used to it. Not like she had had much direction with herself as of late since finding info for the Ol' Miss wasn't terribly hard. They had a relatively decent network of connections, and then there was always Edi to find things for her. Meno wasn't around to give her detective work, or just keep her company. It was.... rather lonely. So she did what she used to do before, go clubbing, maybe wander a bit, and work. Mostly the latter of the three. Wow. She just didn't have a life, did she?

Blinking at this fresh realization, she was startled for a couple of seconds at his reaction to her little gadget that was still lacking in a name. She blinked a few more times and just stared at him, completely taken aback at his fascination with her invention. Was he... Was he actually interested in something she had created? Haha, probably not. Just fascination as anyone would have at something so futuristic. She hadn't found anyone yet who held an understanding for electronics like she did, though maybe she would someday. Eventually. Hopefully. Her expression relaxed as she chuckled softly as he stared at her dumbly. What? Was he not used to this? "I... uh... wha... I... thanks..." Apparently not. Laughing lightly, Rebecca shook her head and waved a hand to dismiss it, letting her purse dangle in front of her as both hands held the strap of it. An eyebrow raised as she smirked, stepping forward so as to lean lightly against the railing, sighing lightly while she looked out into the night. It was quiet now that they weren't inside with that... asshole. She couldn't bring herself to quite call him a person yet, not after that first impression. She touched her tender lip and sighed lightly, knowing that it was split on the one edge but she was lazy to fixing it. Ah shit, it was starting to bleed again, that cigarette probably hadn't helped.

Dabbing at it with a finger, her tongue snaked out and licked up what she could of that trail, not even blinking at the metallic taste now in her mouth. "Useful li'l gadget..." Oh he had no idea. Ahhh, there we go. He was beginning to brighten up more, or at least gain some color. Maybe she should keep that up so he actually looked of the living? Restore some kind of life to those tired bones? "I work long hours. Oh, an', bad luck seems ta' linga' 'round me like a death omen. Ya' get used ta' it afta' the first coupla' years, though." Well now, where did he hail from hm? Almost New York.... Maybe one of the surrounding area's. Still, she sighed and frowned a little, shaking her head at the news. "T'ain't good mate. Though I do knows 'ow 'ard i' can be ta tear away from work." She mused softly, shaking her head a little with a light sigh.

"Zenith Howla', investigata' extraordinaire," HAH. Oh if only Meno were here... She could sense an argument would crop up. "I work fa' Dietrich. Head of IA, so don't be surprised if we meet again in relation to some case or summat'," She took his hand and gave a firm, but warm shake. Ahhh..... Oh she had no doubts indeed. If they worked in the same government branch, then maybe. Or if she decided to show up, or if it was work related as he mentioned cases. She did love a good case... But he was moving, gesturing towards her purse which she glanced down to. "Ya' might have ta' tell me where I can get one. My clothes get stained a lot, if ya' know what I mean." Er.... Rebecca had to resist the urge to chuckle, only half-succeeding as a kind of snicker broke free of her anyways. She failed completely when he smacked his forehead, "I... didn't.. it was...Ah, fuck it."

She held up a hand and laughed, giving up entirely on that whole holding it in thing. It was kind of cute he was so self-conscious of such things, but he had no idea the things she'd heard over the years. Or seen when on her searches for information. Some people had very interesting secrets after all. "Dun' worry 'bout i'. I know wot you mean. As for moi li'l friend here..." She reached into her purse and considered the little comb-like thing, she sighed lightly and straightened up, taking a step closer to him. "I's unfortunately the only one in existence a' the momen'. Foinal prototype ya could say." Oh, maybe he wouldn't like to hear that... "Heh, may as well be ready for sale though." Pausing, she looked at her gadget, then back to him before extending her hand, offering it to him. " 'ere. Take i'. I can always make more. I 'ardly go ou' as i' is now anyways. Caugh' me on a rare occasion."

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