A Phone Call

[Guest]

Time passes slowly as though the sand in an hourglass is stuck in zero gravity--as though the batteries in a cheap dollar store clock has finally gone down hill, ticking every half a minute instead of every doggone second of your life. Yes. It was mildly surprising, but that was how life worked. Jack had to come to terms with it just as he came to terms with many other things before. Like the fact that he had been in a coma for years, dreaming about a falsified reality in which he was a blond pirate named Celesto. Crazy shit happens. He was well aware of it now at least. He had to suck it up and face the day with or without his sanity and he'd much rather keep it thank you very much. Now-a-days he was getting some ground on the whole moving thing. His muscles were beginning to breathe, and finally the stasis of laying in a bed was coming to an end. Oh, and he was now addicted to nicotine. Not only did it calm him down, but he craved it. Well, it was mostly because of the calming down factor which kept his heart in check, but yeah. It was okay. It worked. Dying of lung cancer wasn't too much of a threat since at least he had those intact. As for his liver and kidneys, they were bionic mechanisms that functioned the same as normal ones. It was simple really all one had to do was control blood cells the same as the person's and connect them to a device with technology capable of-- There was no use explaining it. Needless to say that Jack was on the verge of creating an entirely new process of automail organs and was more than a little tempted to reprogram his own to test it out. He kept that part to himself. Hell if he wanted King to put him in another coma. He liked being conscious, thanks.

Speaking of being conscious, 12 hours was such a long time to be awake! People lived like this everyday?! He got so much done even despite not being very talented with walking yet. He turned the room gifted to him by King above their bar into pretty much a lab working space. With the remaining money from his own savings (meager at best considered what his age had been), he bought a bunch of computers, cellphones, wires, and various other instruments at low prices on Craig's List. He put them together, and whammy he had a master computer with programming which allowed him to hack into pretty much any device in the country. With plans to expand the range, he was satisfied with the capabilities offered by cheap machines. He hand built his cellphone out of an iPhone and reprogrammed it to directly connect to a satellite. Yes, free service and unlimited texting. After that, well, he hesitated. There was a limit to what he had and a limit to current technology. There was only so much an inventor had to work with and Jack was highly dissatisfied. While rambunctious drunkards babooned downstairs, Jack very carefully returned to alchemy. After what he did to not only himself, but his family...mainly King, Jack was not keen on the idea. But if a mad technologist has the puzzle pieces before him... shrug. What was he supposed to do, turn into a whiny bitch and run away from what he really wanted to do? He could write depressing woe-is-me songs and cry in the shower--no! He was not that kind of man. He already wasted too much time. Thus, rarely sleeping (due to insomnia), he played...with various transmutation circles.

A midst his playing, Jack begun an online scan in order to find people that, well, interested him. Starting anything takes people and building up an idea such as his own to make automail organs more effective certainly required a certain level of monetary loans... That really wasn't why he was searching; it was mainly to see if there was anyone out there smart enough for competition or for cohesion. After a few days of this scan running with few results popping up, Jack sifted through them. He didn't see anything of worth per-say, but there were a few intriguing patents floating about by a female named Rebecca Wong, Morgana Moncrieff, and Tali Zorah vas Normandy...don't ask; he had no idea. It seemed, however that she had some sort of interference with alchemy and computers as well. With peaked interest, Jack swiped her phone number, locked in into his GPS system that detected locations, and discovered that she had recently traveled to Gelemorté on some sort of business of which was top secret. ...Give him a few months and nothing would be top secret. But oh, irony. It was fate laced with a snicker of perhaps. He sat on the thought and slunk down to the bar for a drink (in which he had grown quite fond of in the time that had passed). His taste buds were on the cusp of new discovery!!

When he returned to his lair once more, he slipped into his best clothes that consisted of one of King's old suits. Black and, well, black he looked decently normal considering most of his major organs were functioning at half their supposed capabilities and his heart was plagued by Myocaditis. He smiled in the mirror at himself, leaving his now shoulder length orange hair down in a tousled sort of way before dialing a number he was sure would ring to voicemail. Who ever answered a call from an unknown, untracked number that showed up as 000-000-0000? No one.

Ring...ring...Oh, she answered! Excellent.

"Hello, I see you partake in creating a variance of interesting gizmos. Let's have dinner."

[Guest]

Silenced gunfire fell silent in the old creaky house, a black clothed arm lowering as the masked figure stared at the last dead man slumped against the floor. The curvaceous figure was robed in a fitted black combat suit with a belt of pouches around the waist. She wore a type of helmet over her head, obscuring her features from view. Literally, all you could see of this woman was black. No skin, no hint of facial features, nothing. But her job was completed, the man in charge of a small terrorist ring now lay dead along with everyone in his little group of friends. Removing the silencer from her gun, she slipped them back into their appropriate holsters before bending forward to remove a couple of items from the man. Basically anything that was in his pockets, they could prove useful. She carefully avoided the pools of blood, leaving a small disk on certain walls before she descended the stairs to the first floor, her footfalls muffled against the hardwood floor. Outside a snow bike was waiting for her, pulling on the long black trench coat that hung over it. It masked any signs of weaponry upon her person very nicely and made her appear more civilian. Like some biker chick. And, well, it was cold here!! Jesus fucking Christ!

No matter, the weather was a distraction. The helmeted figure looked up towards the empty building before her out in the tundra away from civilization, pulling a small iPod shuffle looking device from her pocket and clicking 'Play.' Revving the engine to life, she tore through the empty landscape as the building erupted into explosions behind her, collapsing upon itself and burning the bodies inside. Evidence? What evidence? Snow was beginning to fall about her, gathering in small pools of moisture upon her coat. Excellent, that would cover her bikes tracks. Not that she was particularly worried about getting arrested, much less caught. An advantage of holding so many peoples secrets was that they didn't want those secrets told, and they never realized just how much you knew. "Screens read green. You are good to go Morgana." Rebecca smirked inside her helmet as she sped off towards the city of Vangoria of the frosty country she found herself in. Why the hell had they chosen her to travel to Gelemorte anyways? It had to be because she was in Southern Amestris and closer to ports than other agents. Not that she had even heard from those agents in a while....

She had a lovely little rented apartment here for her stay, the building quite quaint in her opinion compared to what she was used to living in. She did miss her workshop... She had so many experiments going at the moment and though she knew they were in the best hands possible, she longed to return to them. Her bike slid to a stop in front of the apartment complex, the keys jingling as she ascended the stairs to the third floor. With a flick of the wrist, her door opened and was closed quietly behind her. She paused a moment and cocked her ear, waiting for the familiar voice to speak into the piece embedded in her ear. "All clear, welcome home." Exhaling with relief, she removed the helmet and shook her hair free, some of it still clinging to her head from her sweat. Her crimson eyes blinked and surveyed the modestly furnished room, placing the helmet on the table and her coat on the back of a chair. This place had been home for the past couple of days, but it was just that, a temporary home. She wanted the warmth and sunshine of South City, the rocking of the Ol' Miss.... all of that.

"No new messages. However someone has been looking you up online. Unknown IP address, new. Cause unknown. Location: Gelemorte. I believe its the city you currently reside in." Now this gave her pause as she stood there, her combat gear hanging half off of her body leaving her standing there in her living room in her bra and part of her suit. "Really? Now that isn't odd or anything." She murmured softly, shaking her head as she removed the rest of her suit so she just stood there in her underwear. "Perhaps a possible client. You said it was a new IP address?" She called as she strode into the bathroom and ran some water, splashing the cold droplets onto her face. "That is correct. Other possibility is someone who wants you dead Morganna." She had to chuckle and shake her head, using a towel to dab away the wet, her bare feet making soft slapping noises as she strode into the bedroom where her laptop and cell phone were. "If they had wanted me dead, the room would not have been clear when I got back Edi. And you may have been in danger yourself no matter how many precautions we have set up back at base." It was her fancy name for her home.

"This is true-" Her phone began to vibrate on the table, immediately drawing the full attention of her crimson gaze, taking the two steps to pick it up and look at the number. "I don't know it its wise-" She ignored her AI and answered the phone on the second ring, her brows furrowed at the numbers that she had seen. "Hello, I see you partake in creating a variance of interesting gizmos. Let's have dinner." Amestrian. Male. Mid-twenties judging by timber and language. She couldn't help but pause and blink, ignoring the flushing in her cheek as she placed a hand on her hip and turned to a window, still not caring that she was walking around in her underwear. " 'ello indeed. Uh very good, sounds fantastic, 'owever... May I at least know the fellows name whose buying hm?" She answered, glad that her accent had slowly been disappearing from her Amestrian. Who in the world could possibly understand the exactness of the "gizmo's" that she made except..... It couldn't be... Had she finally found someone with an understanding of tech that at the very least matched her own?! If that were true, then her day had just been made.

[Guest]

"'ello indeed. Uh very good, sounds fantastic, 'owever... May I at least know the fellows name whose buying hm?" It was a good point. Mm to say the least. Jack fingered his chin momentarily, eyes taken to their empty focus on the opposing wall. Well, there really was no point in lying now was there? With confidence as astounding as his own, honestly, he had nothing to lose. Jack's lips curled into something between a smile and a smirk. He sat down on his bed, eyes now fixed on the monitor of his laptop which projected all his findings.

"Jackyll Krow. What, haven't heard of me? Good. I haven't heard of you either. Call me Jack. I'll pick you up." He pulled the phone away from his ear and hovered his finger over the END button, but quickly drew it back. "Oh, and try not to shoot me when I arrive." click. He cracked his neck and threw his phone onto the sheets, taking a deep breath. Alright, that went way better than he thought it would. Good. Now to face other problems...like transportation. He was so not used to this kind of thing. He probably should have arranged that before calling her. Ugh. Jack massaged his temples and took a deep breath before stretching slowly to confirm that his muscles weren't going to spontaneously give out on him as they so often did when he least expected it. Well, since King threatened his life if he breathed anywhere near the driver's seat of his car, Jack would have to resort to his own means... It was too short notice to buy a car (not like he had any money left to purchase even a '94 used...from the dump). Rental it was. He slapped a faded red scarf around his neck and grabbed his phone.

Having never done this, Jack still managed to slip out unnoticed, hopping a train (luckily the train systems had relatively remained the same), and making it the extra block to the rental place in the snow. The walking part was rough and the snow was deep, but as snowflakes kissed the top of his head, he made it successfully. Hey, he expected no less. Carefully, he removed his ID and inched it onto the glass table, staring the guy there straight in the eyes. "I want whatever sports car you got. Flashy color."

"Define flashy..." Hold on pause. Guy runs a rental car company that in fact has sports cars for rent in Gelemorté's CAPITAL city, mind you, but he doesn't know what flashy means? Seriously, who did this guy think he was? Jack tilted his head carelessly to the side, blinking disbelievingly at the man whose name tag read Frank. Hah, Frank.

"Alright usually it's like stop sign red, yellow, lime green. None of the blue shit, get it?" Jack leaned forward slightly, eyeing up the car keys hanging behind him.

"Yeah I get it. We've got a red Ferrari Enzo, but no one's driven it for quite a while. Lemme call it in." It wasn't his style exactly, but it was better than nothing. Didn't hear him complaining.

"Great. Three months please and possibly an extension at a later date."

"Three months?!"

"Did I stutter?" Jack was obsessed with cars enough to know that this aforementioned vehicle was actually a street-legal rendition of an F1 racer. Something like 400 were ever made...funny, how one ended up here...as a rental car. Please. He braced himself for the hum of the engine as it pulled up. It was only a matter of time before the keys fell into his able hands. Instead, the credit card was removed from them, momentarily leaving them empty in anticipation. The credit card was then replaced and replaced again back into his beat leather wallet shoved into the back pocket of his pinstriped dress pants. He turned, walked down the hallway to the glass windows, and saw the low-riding curves of the red body gleaming with powdered snow. There was hardly a better sight he'd wish for right now...except maybe a new computer.

A different man got out, the other from the cash register jogging worse than he did after a ten-year-long coma towards him. "You forgot your receipt!" He said, nearly as excited as a child given a chocolate bar. Okay man, chill. Jack took the receipt with a half nod, turning back to the door that jingled obnoxiously, but he didn't hear it. It was such a bother opening doors. The driver handed him the keys with a grin bigger than the other guy. Leather seats...everything about this car was acceptable. Jack slid in and ran a hand along the steering wheel as he started it with the other. It roared to life as any Ferrari should. He had a audience. Better show it off then. He burned out down the road, leaving a fairly decent string of burning rubber clouds behind. Oh, did he mention...he got this license yesterday? No? In fact, this was his first time ever driving outside of the driver's test... Aside from video games, he didn't study at all. There was no need when he already knew all there was that needed knowing.

Phase one done. He whipped out his phone, dodging snow banks with the other. He had already memorized her location. It was those new apartments about twenty minutes away. They were well decked out, nothing to criticize really, but nothing to compliment. "Ah. This Magiano's, yes? I want to make a reservation for two. Jack Krow." He hung up and slipped his phone back into his pocket. When he reached the relative location of her whereabouts, he parked outside, tapped the horn, got out, and pulled out his phone again just in case. Now to see how accurate the pictures were.

[Guest]

There was a pause on the other end of the line, this man must be considering what to tell her or else if this was really a good idea. No, the confidence with which he spoke dictated that he knew exactly what he wanted so it must be the first of the choices. Edi was thankfully quiet for the moment. "Jackyll Krow. What, haven't heard of me? Good. I haven't heard of you either. Call me Jack. I'll pick you up." No, she hadn't heard of him. She could only blink in surprise at the stab at her, quick and completely unexpected. Wh..What was this man? Right. Jack. He was coming here. Oh shit, she better warn Edi. "Oh, and try not to shoot me when I arrive." Click. Well then. She suddenly had plans for the evening. "I pinpointed his location, he was calling from a bar not too far away from here. Rebecca, are you sure that this is-" "-wise? It probably isn't, but he has caught my interest now. Only a couple of types of people would call me about my gadgets and want to have dinner. A client, or someone genuinely interested in my work."

As she spoke, she placed her phone back upon the table and turned now to her closet of clothes which was surprisingly was rather full. Something nice.... she needed something nice... "Yes, that is true. Have fun." And with that, her AI fell quiet, resuming whatever data mining or work she was doing back at base. The purple haired woman couldn't help but smirk to herself and chuckle, moving hangered clothes after hangered clothes aside until she finally found something that would certainly work. Perhaps a little too flashy for a first meeting, but it was unfortunately all she really had that worked. Her coat would cover her shoulders perfectly and keep her warm. Now she was thankful for all that time she spent in North to become accustomed to cold (besides other reasons). She hoped he was doing well. There was always that little pang in her heart that longed for him to get off his bloody case so she could see him again, but she also understood the importance of work. Selfish love could wait. It wasn't like her job really alotted a lot of room for long term relationships anyways. Hell if she knew if she could keep one that long anyway!

In any case, she took a very quick shower that basically got rid of that sheen of sweat she had before, walking back into her bedroom in a towel. She chose a strapless bra to ensure that no awkward things would be seen, a black thong chosen for the same reason. She hated that above all things. One must wear the appropriate undergarments for what one is wearing! End of story. Pulling down the lovely, if revealing, dress, she removed it from its hanger and laid it out on the bed to consider it for a moment. No bra. She cast it off of her form and picked up the dress, slipping it over her head, double checking the gold shimmering waist band that was surprisingly stiff before she slipped her arms through the appropriate holes. Ooo that was low on her waist wasn't it? But it did accent her hips nicely, her attention now turning to her upper half. Ah, excellent all she needed were those nipple covers. Now where did she... "Top drawer in the dresser." Turning back to the large piece of furniture, she opened it up and found them, grinning at the find. "Thank you Edi." There were a couple of beeps in response, and Rebecca was left alone again.

Slipping her hands beneath the fabric, she soon grew frustrated it and parted them so she could actually SEE what the bloody hell she was DOING. Ah, there we go. Oh that was a bit cold wasn't it? Hehe. The fabric once again covered what it should and she bent down to examine the shoes she had brought with her. Normally she would have said sandals, but given the weather in Gelemorte? Boots. So she chose the nice pair of boots she brought with her and slipped them on, checking over herself in the full length mirror on the other side of the room before she went to the bathroom to do some last minute touch ups. Fresh combing of her short hair, shimmering ruby earrings to accent her eyes, appropriate lipstick and just a hint of eyeliner. Nothing too extreme, but it was all that she needed to look positively stunning. Oh yeah, rock it baby. Smirking to herself, she picked up things that she would need like her phone, ID, wallet, keys and placed them into a small purse that she must have bought with the dress. Her heels clacked against the floor as she strode back into the main room, her ears perking up to a sound.

There was a car pulling up, and quite a nice one if she was any judge. Slipping her coat on, she could only smirk at the car horn that greeted her and confirmed her suspicions. Very well, lets meet this mystery man whom had apparently taken an interest in her work. She descended the stairs with ease, her long trench coat closed up tight to keep her the warmest except for the last few inches that revealed only a hint of her black dress and boots. He would get to see the whole thing when they got to the restaurant. The sight that greeted her was a most pleasing one indeed, unable to contain the smirk that was beginning to spread across her features. 1) Nice car. 2) Nice Man Mmm~ <3! Long orange locks, striking blue eyes, nice cheekbones... Well, well, well.... a fine specimen of man indeed. "Well Jack, a pleasure to meet you face to face. Call me Rebecca." She wasn't sure why she decided he could know her real name first, but if he had done such a thorough search, he knew that she had multiple names anyways. "Nice car, shall we?" She asked, already stepping up to the passenger door with a sly sort of smile.

[Guest]

Only a short time transpired between his honking of the horn and the door's opening. A female dressed in a dress, covered by a coat waltzed out and to the stairs leading down. He waited until she was halfway descended before getting out of the car, polished red shutting behind him. He found himself at the foot of the stairs, offering her a hand down the last few--something he'd never do, but found himself doing out of character. Was it that she intrigued him? Certainly, but he also did not have the chivalrous gene which was a dying breed in most men now-a-days anyway. "Well Jack, a pleasure to meet you face to face. Call me Rebecca."

The second she touched down upon earth again, he let go of her hand and motioned plainly to the car, "Rebecca," getting back in ungentlemanly like. That's it he was burnt out for the night: no more garish displays of how receiving he could be. That was Jack's limit...for now.

He started the car, listening to the hot purr of the engine as it stoked to life under the hood. He made sure Rebecca was inside before saying anything more. "Well you're certainly sure of yourself: getting into a stranger's car. " This, of course, was a joke--a rather, shall we say, aimed joke at the fact that he knew enough to make it. She had her skills and he had his. It made sense. At least to him. A wry smile filled his face, shocking blue eyes holding hers for just a moment before turning back to the road. He threw the car in drive and gunned it, flying off into the sunse--snow storm. The rubber streaked against the thickening white, taking them over it with four wheel drive. This car had everything...even heated seats. Just as she said, it was a nice car. "We can talk when we get there." It shaved the twenty-five minutes to the restaurant down to twenty (going the speed limit), and got them there with quite a comfortable air. He pulled right up to the front, getting out and throwing the keys and a bill to the suited man waiting for them. The man gave Jack a wider smile and proceeded to drive the smooth ride into the parking garage.

"This way," Jack directed with a sly look back at her. Down the red carpet and up the few stairs, they entered the regal Cersian restaurant. Immediately, the staff stopped what they were doing and bowed formally to them, one separating himself from the bunch and running up.

"Jack! I was elated to see your name on the guest list, please come in." Jack smiled in response to the man whose name tag read Anthony DeLellis. They called him TonyDee. The reason being...there were three Tonys working there. Jack followed after him, glancing behind a shoulder to make sure Rebecca was acting as his shadow. Under chandeliers, faint Bach compositions, and golden lights, they were offered a table in the back, set with a lavish table cloth, two of every silverware, and leather-coated menus in genuine Rouenian (Gelemortian dialect). Beneath the leather outer-layings were what appeared to be thinner iPads without the apps. In fact, when they were opened, the words appeared on screen: [Food] [Beverages] [Desert]. One of which could be selected via touch to reveal a list of the offered choices with accompanied pictures for each as well as a short description once selected. Then [Order] right below the description once selected, would appear on the screen in the kitchen with the table number in which it is to be delivered. This was the same for all of the other options as well. Jack sat down gallantly and flipped his menu open, selecting everything he wanted in about three seconds before TonyDee even had a chance to explain how it worked to Rebecca whom he did not recognize. TonyDee shook his head. "You never change. I'll be up front if you need me, Jack. It was great seeing you. Come by again when we're less busy, will ya?"

"Sure, of course," Jack answered, half paying attention as he inspected the menu further for any bugs. TonyDee scampered off with a wide smile, humming to himself about Jack bringing a girl. "I designed these," he said with a smile of his own, "see how you like it. Order whatever you want. I came here often as a kid so everything's free." He left it at that. Blurting out the rest of the story would definitely be a conversation killer if he ever saw one. "Oh yeah," he looked up from the menu screen, "Do you like red wine?" Because he kind of already ordered it.

[Guest]

She had to admit, she was a little surprised when he offered his hand and "aided" her down those last few steps. Was he more of a gentleman than she initially perceived? Ah, no, he let go of her hand once she wasn't on the stairs anymore. "Rebecca." That was better, that was what she had expected. "Well you're certainly sure of yourself: getting into a stranger's car. " She couldn't help herself, she chuckled softly and leaned comfortably back into her seat. "I'm no' worried." She said softly as she turned her head to meet his gaze, crimson meeting blue as they stared at each other for just a moment before they were off, snow flying off of the car as they went. "We can talk when we get there." Oh she was sure that they would. They did have a lot to discuss after all. At least, unless she had misread his phone call entirely. Wouldn't have been the first time, but she was a Spectre. She would be ready for anything.

She slid out of the car with him once they arrived in the parking garage, adjusting her trenchcoat a bit as he dealt with the valet parking. Her eyes were looking all around, where were they? "This way," Her body turned and began to follow him, her gaze now following his form as they went inside. They were at a very nice place, that was obvious enough once she saw the red carpet come into view. No normal restaurant would be decorated like that even if it was just the entrance. And the wait staff was even bowing to them as they entered? Goodness. "It would seem he has connections." "You've got that right."[/i] She mumbled under her breath as a man came up and busied himself with Jack, her attention hardly on them at all. She did not slow in her step, remaining in line with him as the music greeted her ears. Well... she had certainly been on worse first dates. Though this was for business, it was certainly close to the top of her list. There was still one night that stood above it at this point however, and that had been after a party at the White House. Something plain and simple. This though? This was a lovely change.

Taking the menu, she immediately began to look at it-- Oh bugger. It was in Rouenian (Gelemortian dialect). Fantastic. Sighing lightly, she was about to activate her alchemy when the waiter that had followed after them was speaking rapidly to Jack. Who was he? He was clearly "friends" with Jack, but beyond that he was merely there. "I designed these," Her ruby gaze focused upon her handsome man, a single eyebrow raising as she glanced down to the menu, then back up to him. "see how you like it. Order whatever you want. I came here often as a kid so everything's free." Well, well, he did have skill after all. So this was about her creations, excellent. Though... she had to wonder if he programmed anything but their native tongue into it. "Oh yeah, do you like red wine?" Rebecca had to chuckle once more as she placed her menu down so that she could finally remove her coat and hang it on the back of her chair. The light from the chandelier's above sparkled off of the gold trim on the straps and her "belt" as it may as well be called. Oh yeah, she looked killer in this place.

"I love red wine." She answered him with a sly smile, picking up her menu again with a light sigh as she touched a finger to the iPad section and let her eyes zone out upon the words. She was speaking a different language entirely. Series of ones and zeroes flowed through her, and she knew exactly what they were saying, speaking in a lovely conversation with the base-most programming of his device. It was very well made, that she could not deny. She spent all of a couple of moments like that, sliding back into the realm of people as opposed to computers with a few rapid blinks of her eyes. God that transition was always weird. And with that, her fingers flew across the touch pad and ordered exactly what she wanted in as rapid a succession as he had. "I'm assuming i's been patented? Are you planning on selling i' overseas a' all? I'm sure they would love i' in Creta." She asked, tilting her head ever so slightly as she closed her menu and placed it down once more, folding her hands on the table. Her purple hair leaned with her, bangs remaining out of her eyes thankfully so that she wouldn't have to fix it at all.

[Guest]

"I love red wine."

"Fabulous," he replied flicking his eyes over the menu to confirm that he had indeed ordered a good brand accompanied with its best year. Within just a few short minutes, a waiter approached carting the fresh bottle of wine and two polished glasses, uniquely blown into a fluid shape. His name tag read Tony. Another Tony. A different Tony. Jack observed as he expertly poured the wine into the glasses, the complexion nearly making him want Bourbon instead. Wine was an art; a complicated art that precisely paralleled the mechanics of creation he was involved in. Surely, Rebecca would come to see that as well as understand the silent words implied. Jack smiled, an uncanny shift of his lips, eyes lingering on the menu for just a moment more. Rebecca wasn't the sensitive type. She was observant, but she was also a daredevil, fearing not danger nor uncertainty. He liked her already. That sort of spunk was lost on most women, filed out into sheltered natures and whims of pampering. He was not that kind of guy. There was a reason for nearly everything he did, and treating a dame to dinner, to him, was not a date.

Over the edge of the menu he saw her finger brush the glass, crystalline ruby eyes ravaged with digital intake. She wasn't just looking at the screen. There was a faint glow--an otherworldly glow that he knew so well: alchemy. It reeked of alchemy, the 1's and 0's nearly replacing the air around them. He saw what she saw without actually seeing it. Why? Because he had a few extra pieces to play with. Shocking blue eyes narrowed inquisitively, fingers pining to tap invisible keys. Alchemy. His heart steeled itself to beat just a little faster, causing nuances of pain interspersed throughout his traded body. His left automail arm curled into a fist under the table, stroked with nerves. He felt the energy pulsing off the machine, reflecting through her eyes, and dispersing into...nothing. Jack took a deep breath and planted his elbows on the table, his eyes holding the same concentrated look. If that had gone on any longer, his myocarditis would have certainly acted up. That would have been bad.

Rebecca blinked at an alarming rate, Jack smirking like a painted hyena as she returned to the land of living, albeit a different form of living. The pause ensued but longer, her fingers dancing fast, if not faster, than his own had. He didn't try and see what she ordered; it didn't really concern him. This was not exactly what he would call a test, but more along the lines of a trial of sorts. "I'm assuming i's been patented? Are you planning on selling i' overseas a' all? I'm sure they would love i' in Creta." He reassessed her, expression changing somewhat. Patented? No. Not yet at least. He needed money first and that right now was sparse. He had to come up with something innovative; he had to make a difference. And selling restaurant menus abroad just wasn't his thing.

"Hmm," he countered, fingering his scruffy chin with his metal hand, "I'm wondering how you managed to order despite not being able to speak Gelemortian." He caught her, but that wasn't his intention. "You see, before I start selling abroad or in general, I need something more suitable, catch my drift? It's like I'm looking for...inspiration. I believe that you are quite capable of that. ...which was why I called." Jack's expression revealed nothing pertaining to his inner thoughts as he reached into his pocket and handed over his custom-made smart phone to her. "Normal phone. Well, somewhat normal: free service, all that. With this, most satellites in the sky can be mine with a little fine-tuning. The device itself isn't programmed or anything; that would take way too much time and therefore stealable. You see, it's all up here." He tapped his head with his pointer finger, still using his automail arm as a leaning post. Sitting up in the chair and, you know, functioning normally was starting to really drain his energy. "Recently came out of an alchemy-induced coma. There's lots of complications. You might be interested, you might not. Basically, what I'm asking you is if you're with me or against me. Like making enemies and all. I'd really rather work with you. Kinda starting out from scratch here. If you'd like a demonstration, I may be able to squeeze one into my schedule." A tasteful joke, seeing as he currently had all the time in the world to do whatever his heart desired. And damn was his heart a demanding sucker.

Jack's eyes flashed carefully as he removed his head from where it rested. He didn't know what to expect, but he had confidence. The top secret bit of her file only tended to intrigue him further, but at the same time put him on edge. He was Gelemortian/Cersian and she was Xingese/Aerguese speaking Amestrian so it was hard to get a read on her. He wanted to learn more, finding himself unusually interested in another human being. The typical aloof exterior was wiped fresh away. He took a sip of his wine and held it between his lips for a moment. Wiped fresh away. He swallowed.

[Guest]

When was the last time she had had wine? Oh yes, it was that delightful evening with Zen just after the gathering at the White House that Pancake had completely trashed. Ah well, at least the evening had ended well. But this was a different situation entirely. This was a fancy restaurant in a completely different country, with a man... who was entirely different. The purpose for this meeting was not pleasure and she certainly held no misconceptions about that. No one called her out like this if it was for pleasure. Well, that was also because no one had been able to find her so quickly when just doing a search. Oh and by the way he had just happened to design his own menu's for this place? No, this was a challenge. This was business. Which is why she would not be done in by a language barrier. Maybe she shouldn't reveal all her secrets quickly, but in all honesty, if this really was business? He may as well get a taste of what she could do. With a slender hand, she picked up her wine glass and took a sip now that she had that matter taken care of.

Now that she could actually pay attention to other things, she noticed that his other arm was now resting in his lap and there was a tension about his form that spoke of discomfort. Tilting her head ever so slightly, she smiled sweetly as she waited for an answer to her question while her mind raced through what such signs meant. Possibilities: Hates alchemy. More likely option: Automail. Addendum: A limb would not cause such tension. Conclusion: More than one piece of him was automail. Next question: What parts of him were automail then? His left arm since it was hidden beneath the table for the moment (could be comfort too), but what else then? "Hmm," Ah yes, her voiced question. She noted his metal hand as confirmation to her suspicions. "I'm wondering how you managed to order despite not being able to speak Gelemortian." Of course he had noticed, she hadn't exactly been trying to be subtle. And he had body parts that screamed when she conducted such things. "You see, before I start selling abroad or in general, I need something more suitable, catch my drift? It's like I'm looking for...inspiration. I believe that you are quite capable of that. ...which was why I called." Inspiration. Was that all? Her eyebrow arched upwards before she took another sip. So... what. Was he looking to create weapons? Hacking programs? Random gadgets that she invented because she was bored?

Her crimson eyes focused upon the phone that he drew attention to, "Normal phone. Well, somewhat normal: free service, all that. With this, most satellites in the sky can be mine with a little fine-tuning. The device itself isn't programmed or anything; that would take way too much time and therefore stealable. You see, it's all up here." ... What? Ok, she would bite. Granted, Edi could have the same access if she went through enough programs (and she could be on her phone), but they never did such things since... what was the point? Only a couple of countries actually used their technology often, which is what always made her information gathering a bit trickier at times. But in any case, it was all in his mind. She knew that sensation very well as she could think of a new device at the drop of a hat. "Recently came out of an alchemy-induced coma. There's lots of complications. You might be interested, you might not. Basically, what I'm asking you is if you're with me or against me. Like making enemies and all. I'd really rather work with you. Kinda starting out from scratch here. If you'd like a demonstration, I may be able to squeeze one into my schedule."

At this fresh batch of knowledge, Rebecca's eyebrows both raised as she sat up a bit straighter in her chair (not that she had been slouching to begin with). Well then, an alchemy induced coma... So more than his limbs must be automail then. She knew that they had come far in the medical field with automail, but had they really gone that far? Of course they had. She had noticed a couple of articles pass by when she was waiting for Edi to get done analyzing a file. Which still begged the question: what other part of him was automail? Oh right, he was waiting for an answer instead. She took a deep breath in and sat up, letting her hands slide from the table into her lap as her gaze pierced him. Alright, focus. "I don't need a demonstration. I'm afraid I cannot remain here in Gelemorte for too much longer." Her accent had suddenly become more upper class Cretan than the cockney it had been in before. Dammit. Why couldn't she shake it completely in certain languages?! "As to the question of alignment," here she paused to weigh her words carefully before she might say something out of turn, "In the large scheme of things, what matters to me is world peace. If any of your actions seek to dismantle that or get in my way, then I'm afraid we must unfortunately be on opposite sides. However," She leaned forward again and smiled, "If our goals align, then we may do business." Perfect. She hadn't given anything away, but she had gotten the point across. She loved it when she could actually think of proper words. "So Jack, does that answer your question?" Her back straightened as her hand reached for her wine to take another sip, her crimson eyes still boring into him over the top of it.

[Guest]

Another glass of wine? Why not. He shifted his weight forward, reaching for the bottle, arcing it up, and pouring. The graceful liquid streamed out, rippling into the glass. While he was at it, he lifted the bottle without a drip and refilled hers as well. The color was a rich red and the taste sweet on dry. It made him smile slightly to think that despite not having a liver technically, he had a liver technologically. It wasn't the best and did not thwart pain well, but it worked. And right now, that was all that mattered; everything else came later. While he was pouring, her eyes were clearly on his automail arm, intently analytic. It wasn't a run-of-the-mill arm, but it also wasn't as efficient as he could construct. He was sure somewhere on it was stamped Made in Xing because hell if he was going to take credit for that piece of junk. At the same time, he was hesitant to make his own (aside from not being able to afford parts) due to the fact that it would hurt like a bitch to disconnect the nerves and reconnect them. He was not looking forward to that. Speaking of such, it would take a whole other round of surgery to forego updates on his automail organs, so god forbid he screw that up; he'd be in the grave again. No thank youuu.

An orange eyebrow raised in inquiry at his own arm with a what-you-lookin'-at glance back at her. Yeah, it's not flesh, and? He was still kind of getting used to the fact that one of his hands was always cold and tended to reflect things. For some reason it felt lighter too, but with that lack of weight on his left side came an estimate of weakness. Jack hated pain enough to not want to test out that theory. Hell, at least he could move the damn thing; his other arm felt like he was carrying a lead pipe around (not like he ever lifted one or anything). Being in a vegetative state for most of his life as he grew limited his muscles to the very basics. Lifting a spoon at first was more effort than he could handle, and though he had moved on to twenty pound weights, he still had trouble pushing open doors. Progress took time. If anyone, Jack was aware of that. His azure eyes meandered about Rebecca's expression for a moment, intent on gathering payment for his revelation of facts pertaining to himself. At which time, the food arrived. Steaming hot spaghetti was placed in front of him, an array of mixed cheeses sprinkled on top with sea salt. Meatballs lined the edges in such abundance that Jack wasn't even sure he would be able to finish it. Appetite, too, took time to regather considering his body was unaccustomed to consuming food by mouth instead of via intravenous. It was a hard recovery process and it took a helluva lot of focus to not get frustrated. "Thank you," he said to the waitress who smiled and scurried off to another table with cocktails and a soft 'your welcome'.

"I don't need a demonstration. I'm afraid I cannot remain here in Gelemorté for too much longer." Jack found himself nodding in response, playing with his food by twirling his fork in thought. Perhaps his joke was a little far-fetched? If that was the case, then it was fine, though it did make him appear to be uptight. Him, busy? Hilarious. "In the large scheme of things, what matters to me is world peace. If any of your actions seek to dismantle that or get in my way, then I'm afraid we must unfortunately be on opposite sides." ...World peace? People were still preaching about that? Did they not realize the impossibility of the human race and all their intelligence getting along? Jack chomped at a forkful of spaghetti, chewing it over. Nope, impossible. To dance around concepts like that would be bad for business. At the same time, it wasn't like he wanted to go out and start wars. What was her angle--what was she getting at by saying something of that magnitude? Her way was a solitary route, however, world peace was not. She wasn't alone; she worked for someone--something governmental not in Gelemorté, but that which allowed her to travel. It wasn't important in the long run what exactly she did, but the lack of skeletons in her closet that came with the phrase 'world peace' was intently comforting. Jack let a false bravado come over him while inside he second-guessed every logical thought that passed him by. "However, if our goals align, then we may do business." Self-satisfaction was leaking off of her so much so that he nearly felt as if he would drown in it if he was not too careful. The weight of her words was certainly appeasing, but deep down Jack was wary of generalizations. Coming from someone as technical as she, he was bereft to discover that her wording was surface and not a touch deeper. "So Jack, does that answer your question?"

"If this was a first grade science class, I'd consider it sound," he laughed faintly, taking another bite to let his joke simmer away. "The thing is, you see, like, I feel honored and all to have you share your world goals with me, but why so broad? If I told you my liver is automail and this is the first time I've tested it out with alcohol, wouldn't you then feel obligated to share something of your own? If you simply say 'my way', that's you presupposing that I can read your mind and can tell which way you claim as your own. Certainly, the road to world peace, but to what extent? Is selling weaponry for or against world peace? To exact world peace doesn't that suggest that one must fight to ensure it? I'm not saying I'm going to jump on the bandwagon of war-obsessed fools, but I need to know what I'm working with here. Right now, I'm delving into automail, but automail hardly has limits in the peace sector. Plus, you don't look like someone who sits on their couch and knits."

[Guest]

She lowered her gaze at his stare, nodding in thanks for refilling her glass of wine. It was a good year, but she was beginning to think that she liked the bottle she had shared with Zen more. But was it the company? Or simply the wine? She couldn't decide at the moment and so decided to reserve judgement for later. After all, she had hardly any information on this man aside from what little he had told her. She could practically sense Edi already beginning to try running a background search on him for anything worth warranting concern. She had a feeling that there would be nothing. Her back straightened as the waitress approached with their plates, seafood her choice of food for the evening. Mussels in a lovely red sauce tinged with wine and spices, garlic bread on the side for her to dip into the sauce as she so chose to. A separate bowl for the empty shells joined the rest of the plates upon the table, allowing Jack to thank them for the food since she didn't speak their language. She was beginning to think that she should.

So she waited patiently for his answer, pulling apart a shell to get to the meaty center before plopping it in her mouth, her crimson eyes watching him with a smile. "If this was a first grade science class, I'd consider it sound," She was hardly surprised by his initial response. So she chewed her food at her own pace, taking a fresh bite when she felt the need to. "The thing is, you see, like, I feel honored and all to have you share your world goals with me, but why so broad? If I told you my liver is automail and this is the first time I've tested it out with alcohol, wouldn't you then feel obligated to share something of your own? If you simply say 'my way', that's you presupposing that I can read your mind and can tell which way you claim as your own. Certainly, the road to world peace, but to what extent? Is selling weaponry for or against world peace? To exact world peace doesn't that suggest that one must fight to ensure it? I'm not saying I'm going to jump on the bandwagon of war-obsessed fools, but I need to know what I'm working with here. Right now, I'm delving into automail, but automail hardly has limits in the peace sector. Plus, you don't look like someone who sits on their couch and knits."

Ah. So he was one of those sorts of folk. Fair enough. She had to chuckle at his last statement, however, dabbing her lips with her napkin as she swallowed another bite. "It is so broad because it must be. Every country, every culture, every government has its own agenda's that it wishes to fulfill in separate means. Drachma is looking for revenge against Amestris for the last war, tension has always existed between Gelemorté and Esparia, yada yada yada. It isn't so much as to unite everyone under a single banner to wave triumphantly in the sun, and I can safely say I don't deal in weaponry. No, it is handling the subtleties that drive all of them. There are threats that are bigger than any petty squabble between nations, and those are the ones that are my concern." She paused to sip at her wine, cocking her head to the side as she considered him for a moment. "But you are right, I don't knit. Never quite got the hang of that. I go where I am needed most, when I must." She smirked as she lifted her fork before spearing a fresh piece of muscle, wiping her fingertips before brushing her bangs from her eyes. Let him wonder at what she exactly did, she had no doubt if he truly wanted to know he could dig deep enough and break enough barriers to find it. "Satisfied?"

[Guest]

War-obsessed fools, huh? His own wording threw him off, forcing him to sit still and linger upon his own dialogue for just another moment. As she chewed, he hung onto the tail of of his digression, wallowing a bit too heavily on a statement that could easily be retracted. Would he ever make weapons of any kind? Maybe items that could be used as weapons, but weapons for intended slaughter? It was hardly on his agenda; however, writing off a potential field was not usually his style. Already, he was intrigued by her naiveté--already, he was submerged into ideals before even erecting a means in which to work. Money tinged in rouge was not the right color to trade hands. The term 'red-handed' had dark tones, and Jack didn't want to get his hands dirty. So no, direct declarations of selling war weaponry was not necessarily in his best interest anyway. Plus, the market was huge, breaking into it even with his technological skills was not going to be easy. An entire country, Carraig, was currently standing at the forefront of weapons dealing. In his room upstairs from the bar in Gelemorté, Jack didn't stand a fucking chance.

That was why he had to create something innovative, something that made a boom in the industry. Automail, cars, some form of tech that made mouths drop. That would be his first step. And only the first. He engulfed a meatball with his mouth, chewing heartily and swallowing. Already, he was getting full, but he couldn't allow his plate to suggest 1.) he didn't like the meal or 2.) his appetite sucked due to being unconscious for eleven years. The latter, of course, was the truth, still, it was an unnecessary parcel of information he was a little more than unwilling to share. Personal stuff stayed personal. That is, unless it was needed for an argument of some sort or to weasel facts out of a certain someone. He forced down another bite of his meal, lacing it with the last swallow of wine. He felt kind of dizzy actually and the effects were worrying him. He knew about alcohol, but he had assumed that even operating on half its intended efficiency, his automail liver would hold up quite well against the effects. What was happening now told him not to pour another glass. He stared down the last of the liquid pooled at the bottom of the glass and let a soft sigh escape his lips.

Rebecca lowered the napkin, her hair fraying out slightly with the movement. Blue eyes caught the cooler entity of purple strands resembling the color of their wine. For just a moment he was lost. "It is so broad because it must be. Every country, every culture, every government has its own agenda that it wishes to fulfill in separate means." He leaned forward more, resting his chin on both his hands, paying attention completely for once. "It isn't so much as to unite everyone under a single banner to wave triumphantly in the sun," she continued, Jack's eyes following her thought processes, "it is handling the subtleties that drive all of them. There are threats that are bigger than any petty squabble between nations, and those are the ones that are my concern." She reached for her wine as Jack massaged his temples, trying to focus his eyes clearly. This wasn't good. "But you are right, I don't knit. Never quite got the hang of that. I go where I am needed most, when I must. Satisfied?" Jack grinned sheepishly, licking his lips and leaning back into his chair. What should he not say?

"Not quite. You said it's so broad because 'it must be' then you say every country has it's own separate agenda. Which is it? To me, it sounds as though you have already separated them in your head, you just aren't willing to share any more information regarding them. Each country has a subtlety that drives it, you say, and that is where the solution to world peace lies? We're talking in generalizations here, so I'm assuming that you don't root out any and all threats bigger than a petty squabble considering the scale. You work for someone, but I'm not interested in that. What I'm asking here is what you do to surmise your actions are assisting with the problem you've concocted from your own observations. World peace is the end all of war, correct; not the uniting under one flag bit. So in order to bring that about, you patent certain technologies and seek to be rid of the subtleties that drive them, yeah?" Jack paused a moment, staring at his hands. Amestris, Drachma, Gelemorté, and Esparia were mentioned. That left Xing, Carraig, Aerugo, and Creta. Seeing as two of those languages she didn't speak, Carraig and Aerugo were out, leaving Xing or Creta. She worked for one of those countries, but honestly he didn't care; he was just curious.

"So what are those subtleties then? No, let me phrase it this way: what would be considered getting in your way?"

[Guest]

This conversation was starting to get a bit heavy wasn't it? "Do be careful Rebecca." Edi whispered in her ear as she took another sip of wine. Careful? Careful wasn't even a proper word for this. There had to be a word that was stronger than careful without being paranoid. Her superiors certainly wouldn't be comfortable with this conversation in the least bit, but if they could gain a potential ally? What would be their reaction then? Would they encourage her to speak with him further? She knew how much they appreciated her inventions, so if they gained two people with such innovative minds.... They could do some real good. She actually trusted them to not misuse what she made for them, and she knew they would never ask her to look into something unless it would definitely benefit their mission. She never had to deal with the knowledge that her inventions were costing lives because that wasn't what she dealt in at all. Weapons got money on the black market, but they were so risky and just.... no. It was boring to her. There were so many other fields that she could turn her mind towards. Like nifty gadgets that got stains out of your clothes completely and within two seconds. She really had to make a second one of those....

Now hold on, her host didn't look so good. He was rubbing his temples, was he getting a headache? They were certainly running around each other enough to cause one but she had a feeling that that wasn't the case. The comment about an automail liver wasn't just a comment, but a truth passed off with a wave of a hand so as to seem like a random example. So was the wine disagreeing with it then? If only she had looked further into automail, because now she was really curious. What would she find if she opened him up? What made these automail organs tick? Could she replicate that with silicon and-- No. No bad Rebecca. He was not an experiment in the least bit. He was a potential business partner who was as brilliant as she was which was a rare find indeed. No need to spoil things by asking about his innards and whatnot. Her brows furrowed in a show of concern, but it faded to a neutral expression as he grinned and sat back. He must be fine. "Not quite. You said it's so broad because 'it must be' then you say every country has it's own separate agenda. Which is it? To me, it sounds as though you have already separated them in your head, you just aren't willing to share any more information regarding them. Each country has a subtlety that drives it, you say, and that is where the solution to world peace lies? We're talking in generalizations here, so I'm assuming that you don't root out any and all threats bigger than a petty squabble considering the scale. You work for someone, but I'm not interested in that. What I'm asking here is what you do to surmise your actions are assisting with the problem you've concocted from your own observations. World peace is the end all of war, correct; not the uniting under one flag bit. So in order to bring that about, you patent certain technologies and seek to be rid of the subtleties that drive them, yeah?" No, she wasn't willing to share any information unless she was getting paid or pulling a favor. And in his case? She was certainly not going to say anything unless she had absolutely no choice.

She couldn't help but smile at his reasoning, letting one hand rest in her lap while the other picked up her wine for another sip. Oh he had no idea what she did, and she liked it that way. He was trying to solve a puzzle, trying so very hard, but she wouldn't give him enough hints if possible. "So what are those subtleties then? No, let me phrase it this way: what would be considered getting in your way?" There we go. Now she sat forward and placed her wine glass down, clasping her hands as she stared at him very intently, the smallest hint of a smirk upon her features. "That is the proper question my dear Jack." But here is where it got very, very tricky. "Let me say this, RIOTE is my biggest enemy. Their goal, they claim for it to be the same as mine. Except they incite war to achieve it so that countries will unite. They are my biggest foe in all of this. You could say we have a difference in opinions on the best way to make our goals happen. War is a means to an end for them. For me? The more peace we can add to an already chaotic world, the better. Humans love their chaos and we don't seek to deny them that. We just want to be sure that a balance is maintained." She paused to think over her words, lowering her gaze towards her hands as she weighed what she would say next carefully.

"We do not commit genocide. We will not provide the means to decimate a country just because of a few. If I have to kill a few key members of a faction in order to save more, then I will do it without batting an eyelash. The bottom line is if your inventions seek to aid the people of a nation such as medically, or with interesting tech that seems to come out of a sci-fi novel, or what have you, then we have no issue at all." She sighed before taking another sip of her wine, her crimson gaze piercing into him. "I personally do not invent weapons. I invent things that I feel like which are often seemingly pointless to some of my peers in the technology world. But in my other line of work? You could call us guardians of the world in a sense who aren't necessarily bound by the laws set down by countries. God, we sound like some religious nut-job order now." She shook her head and chuckled at the image of them suddenly in flowing robes praising some god. Pffffffttttt..... "So what are your plans then Jack? Automail? New phones? What area are you seeking to enter with your brilliant mind?" That would be the best and easiest way for her to tell if he would risk stepping on her toes.

[Guest]

In and out of focus, Jack's eyes weren't happy with the sweet poison in his system. In fact, he was sure that his entire body was failing slightly because of it. He managed to ignore it somehow, but he was positive she had realized the reason behind his actions wasn't because of a simple headache. He'd made it obvious enough so that if he passed out suddenly she'd know why. It was an experiment of sorts, and Jack was the kind of guy to let his curiosity lead him. However, she did look concerned, her brow furrowing uneasily, but beyond that worry was a deeper question. Clearly, she wanted to see inside--see each technical piece to understand how he was still even alive to begin with. Hell if he even knew, but he was slowly finding out, creating his own tweaks to combat the heavy faults of running on dysfunctional organs. Sometimes he could almost feel their weight--hear their mechanical makeup. At those times, he found that he wanted even more to reinvent the automail organ and triple their efficiency. Right now, he'd say he was operating on probably 43% of what he should be, leaving him meandering on death's doorstep, but with a little playing, he could bring that up to about 129%. Then, he'd have something to show.

When he had finished speaking, he could tell that she was hesitant, carefully pulling apart her own words for any slivers of information that might have accidentally slipped through her lips. No, she was definitely working for somebody. Jack wasn't trying to encroach. In fact, he was just pushing to see how far he could get--see how secretive her work was. And really, he was just a random guy who picked up the phone on a whim. He didn't expect anything from Rebecca at all. Even considering what their conversation had escalated to, he was loving every word. Though he hadn't had many a deep conversation in the past, he was aware that usually someone would get angry or frustrated enough to have the discussion turn bitter. Tonight, that was not the case, adding to the pleasant atmosphere and delicious food. Jack did manage to finish half his plate, concluding he would wrap the rest and give it to King or save if for lunch the next day. Still, he felt strange not finishing it; he just wasn't himself yet. After waking up from that long-winded lucid dream, Jack felt that it was taking a while to re-adapt to consciousness. He was slowly but surely, filling out into himself, which seemed somewhat different than who he was as a child. Well, that was to be expected, right? Whereas this conversation was far more than could could have hoped.

Her wine glass was replaced upon the table cloth, her lips twitching minutely at the corners. "That is the proper question my dear Jack." Interest way of phrasing it. But now he was getting somewhere, finally, he felt they had paved through the unnecessary garble of ideals and onto the good stuff. "Let me say this, RIOTE is my biggest enemy." Ooor not. Okay, whatever; he could roll with this. He continued to sit back, crossing his leg all manly like. He stared forward, at her, and listened as intently he could to someone talking about a terrorist organization that had absolutely nothing to do with him or inventing innovative technologies. " Their goal, they claim for it to be the same as mine. Except they incite war to achieve it so that countries will unite." Jack snickered quietly at this and tapped his leg impatiently. Actually, as it was, RIOTE's goal was never outwardly claimed. People presumed what their goals were by their actions, hoping that their wars and violence was in the pursuit of some kind of peace, but Jack had his own speculations that weren't from the generalizations in the news. "War is a means to an end for them." Well, that certainly seemed true, but their objective wasn't sought through wars. RIOTE's true aim seemed not to unite people, but to set them against each other. Where they were going with that didn't seem to be on the wings of a dove, but by destroying all that is in order to rebuild and reformat the entire foundations of war and peace together from scratch. It was like when an old computer was malfunctioning. Instead of trying to fix it, it was sometimes better to build an entirely new one. "For me? The more peace we can add to an already chaotic world, the better. Humans love their chaos and we don't seek to deny them that. We just want to be sure that a balance is maintained." She was already saying we, if it wasn't obvious enough already. But maintaining a balance? How was maintaining a balance world peace in anyway?? Jack let the pause transpire without interrupting (as much as he wanted to), looking at her hands when she did as if she were holding some invisible thought--as if he could see it, read it, and understand it as it laid there, stationary.

"We do not commit genocide. We will not provide the means to decimate a country just because of a few. If I have to kill a few key members of a faction in order to save more, then I will do it without batting an eyelash." Balance, huh? Because of a few what? She did kill people though, he kind of expected that. Killing...just. Jack had no idea what it would feel like or what it felt like to kill someone. He wasn't sure if he wanted to, but at the same time he felt as though if he needed to, he could. Again, that wasn't on his agenda either. Selfish desire was leaking through her dialogue, plugging up the naiveté with blood. How was that different from what RIOTE did? Jack smirked, saying nothing, eyeing her straight on, amusement written all over his face. "The bottom line is if your inventions seek to aid the people of a nation such as medically, or with interesting tech that seems to come out of a sci-fi novel, or what have you, then we have no issue at all."

"And if we did?" A novel. A sci-fi novel. Seriously. Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. Sometimes it was hard to believe that he was talking to the same person from five seconds ago. "Inventing tech that comes out of sci-fi novels wouldn't be interesting. My goals pertains to the tangible." He smiled.

"I invent things that I feel like which are often seemingly pointless to some of my peers in the technology world." Pointless? Jack shook his head, about to deny that, but she continued onward to her other line of work. "You could call us guardians of the world in a sense who aren't necessarily bound by the laws set down by countries." RIOTE wasn't either and he was sure that they considered themselves guardians in some sense as well. Hm. He chortled along with her, waving away the picture of her and her faceless group worshiping some random deity in effects for world peace.

"Anything invented or created can be used as a stepping stool for something greater and more beneficial than the first. Laws are just guidelines anyway."

"So what are your plans then Jack? Automail? New phones? What area are you seeking to enter with your brilliant mind?" He glanced at his arm and frowned. Bad assumption. But he liked the compliment.

"I guess you'll just have to wait and see."

[EXIT THREAD]

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