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Kale Hearthward Yesterday was... a thing.

Today is going to be another thing.

There's an almost ready-made indoor arena for this. Not for 'maid stuff' specifically, but there's enough strange competitions throughout the multiverse that it's easy to find and reconfigure one.

The layout is vaguely Roman coliseum-ish, with raised seating along the edges of the circular arena, surrounding the stage/pit in the center. At the moment, the stage contains two microphone stands and naught else, though various mechanisms suggest that the stage can change dynamically as needed.

At the north end of the arena, the front row of seats have been removed and replaced with three tables, one for each of the judges, with a fancy comfortable chair behind each one. There's a set of stairs nearby that lead down into the pit for if the judges feel the need to get up and inspect anything up close, or conversely if any of the contestants need to go up and approach the judges for any reason. (Such as, for example, to present an item.)
Hist the south end of the arena, there's a pair of tunnels, leading into locker rooms and dressing rooms, where each of today's contestants are making their final preparations. The rooms are kitted out with enough essentials, including a high grade cosmetics kit, though dresses and other clothing are of course not included.

At the appointed start time, the arena grows dark. "Welcome to the maid off between Kale Hearthward and Petra Soroka. Please take your seats. Audience interference in the contest is strictly prohibited."

"After winning a coin flip backstage, Petra Soroka has elected to make her debut second. Before we introduce our contestants, though, we must introduce our star panel of judges who have graciously agreed to adjudicate this battle of maids. Judges, please take your positions and make your introductions."

A trio of spotlights shines down on the judges tables...
Candy      Candy takes his position, heading up the stairs to the seating. He's wearing his usual--variations on simple work clothes. Pale pink work shirt, unbuttoned for a lower neckline, black suspenders that aren't totally necessary given how little his pale blue jeans leave to the imagination at the back, and brown, well-worn work shoes. A cream-colored newsie cap is doffed, waved the the audience with a wide smile.

     "Candelario Maria Estevez de la Fuente," he says, as the spotlight shines down. "You ask me nice after the competition, I might--"

     Someone cuts his mic. Candy puts the cap back on and takes a seat, legs crossed and laughing.
Futaba Nuki Despite the strange and mildly worrying events of the previous night, Futaba has once again chosen to come and witness the climactic battle that had spun off a completely different one! Rather than watching the festivities from a competitor's position, though, she's only in the audience today, although there's plenty of space for her to sit since there's no regular chair around her at all.

Instead, she's once again using her tail as her chair, set right in the middle of a walkway that would probably constitute a significant fire hazard if she wasn't right at the front of everything. Today, Futaba's tail is arranged in the shape of a long sofa, giving her plenty of room to lounge across it along with anyone else that wants to hang out with a familiar face or just have a more comfortable seat to view festivities.

She probably won't appreciate anyone spilling drinks on her.
Ishirou Ishirou felt...slightly responsible for what happened.  He felt even more responsible after the events of the previous night nearly got someone shot, and another choke slammed.  So when here, Ishirou finds a spot near Futaba and sits down.  

He doesn't say anything, but instead fidgets with his hands and looks nervously at the stage.  Especially when the lights go dark.  POD, nearby, floats over one shoulder but is silent and non-judgemental today, unlike yesterday when they were sort of a judge.  

Inwardly...

'Pleasedon'tkilleachother...' repeats in his head.
Lilian Rook     Lilian has clearly decided that yesterday's insanely gorgeous drip was her 'event costume' or 'judge fit', as many programs and events with judges are known to carefully design and reuse throughout, because she's come back with it again. This, of course, means that she has spectacularly outdressed her fellow judges and glows with imperial importance in the center seat between them. She is, of course, the last to sit.

    "Dame Commander Lilian Rook. I expect to see a show that is worth my while. Compete to the best of your abilities." She tosses her hair a little as she sits, leg over leg, and scoots the chair in without apparently tugging on it at all. Her purse is deposited on the table in front of her instead of by her side. Its leather shine is just about completely eclipsed by the starburst glitter of her jewels under the spotlight, and even the gloss of her perfectly done, long-let hair. "Let us see Hearthward first, then."
Aidan Proudpick Listen, okay.

Aidan doesn't have a problem.

But he is certain this is going to be a LOT funnier than just sitting back at home and watching the grass grow.

He is not very good at this fashion stuff anyways. He just has on a very VERY large puffy overcoat that fits over his frame and has lots of pockets for storing cool stuff! "So, does this end with a duel?" He asks Ishirou.
Archer EMIYA      Emiya doesn't really have any interest in being a judge, but between being paid off by the King of Heroes to attend and the expressed permission to basically act however he wants torwards the contestents without having to explain why, he doesn't really have any reason not to be one.

     When the spotlight shines down on the judge panel, it's revealed Archer's already been there, his boots resting on the desk as he leans back hard into his chair, causing it to precariously balance on its two legs. He doesn't anything when it's obvious there's attention on him, however, instead he just opts to close his eyes while an extremely punchable and smug smirk spreads across his face.

     He's dressed a bit differently than usual, his signature red coat seemingly absent and his slick-backed hair now down and loose, but other than that, he hasn't honestly changed much.
Wisconsin     Wisconsin and Denver are back again. They wouldn't miss this show for the world. It's been a good show so far at leasst.

    Though this time, Denver has come more prepared. She's got her little tablet out, and is taking her time setting up a small betting ring with anyone else who's in for such ILLEGAL THINGS as gambling on illicit maid competitions.

    Wisconsin has brought snacks, and is currently nibbling on something that smells Not Quite Food, but it looks like a container of goldfish crackers.
Kale Hearthward Kale's opted for a japanese style maid dress. It's... actually a bit understated, at first glance. Black dress, white apron. Ruffles. Black fingerless gloves. There are no crazy colors, no elaborate accessories, no complex additions.

That isn't to say it hasn't been touched up. Kale's taken a custom commissioned maid dress, and done his own alterations. It's been taken in and/or let out where appropriate, fitting his form precisely. And while there's no elaborate changes to the design, there's a few small touches - most notably on the back of the left glove, the words '9th Code' have been hand-stitched in white thread.

He enters, walking straight to his spot in front of one of the microphones, turns, and bows towards the panel of judges. "Master Candelario. Mistress Rook. Master Emiya. Our esteemed guests in the audience." Kale manages to project properly into the microphone on the stand, even while bowing deeply.

He straightens back up. "I hope this day finds you well. My name is Kale Hearthward, and I will have the pleasure of serving you today."

That's it. Simple entrance, simple introduction, no theatrics.
Nephra Tangent     With all the hatred-steeped radio bickering Kale and Petra partook in, and now the coliseum-esque arena, Nephra is in no way fully convinced that this competition isn't going to be -whether from the start, or by decaying into- some sort of grisly, costumed, cage-fight bloodbath- and who'd be caught dead missing the chance to watch that?

    She's settled herself comfortably in amonst the audience stands, a pile of concessions snacks and booze bottles (some empty) stacked in the empty seat next to her, and a loosely waved a scavenged foam finger above her head. It clearly has a highschool sports logo covered over (poorly) with the red duct tape lettering of '#1 Petra'. A bold choice for a favored competitor, in this, the most noblest of duels.
Sleek Shimmer     Sleek Shimmer's among the audience for this crazy event. She has never heard of a 'maid off' of course, but after yesterday... well, she has a fair idea. "The loudmouthed birdman is dressing up." She murmurs to herself under her breath. "In women's clothing. To compete with Petra at being pretty."

    The whole premise is stuffed full of questions. Questions she's hoping might be answered here today.

    After taking a few glances over the others here to observe though, she decides to scamper over to about seven feet away from Futaba, opposite from Ishirou. "Good evening, you two. What makes this 'maid outfit' so special, anyways? It's kinda cute, but also stuffy."
Hibiki Tachibana     Yesterday really was...a thing. Today, indeed, will probably be another thing.

    Once again, Hibiki Tachibana and Miku Kohinata are a duo, and though the latter has come in a sleeveless purple top and long white skirt combo, the former apparently hasn't seen fit to change out of the same jacket and shorts she had yesterday. Competition formal, it is not. The two are relatively quiet compared to the usual, with Hibiki throwing up a hand in greeting towards Futaba and Ishirou.

    "Yo." That's all either of them get for a moment, as the two find their own seats nearby and get comfortable. Or as comfortable as can be, anyway. Hibiki seems to be working towards it, her eyes going towards the judge's table. "Lilian...Candy, and..." Hmm. Somehow, she feels like this fits. It also makes her frown a bit. "...Petra's really going through with it anyway. I hope she'll be alright." She takes a deep breath, watching as Kale makes his entrance.

    Miku, after setting aside a handbag, gives Ishirou in particular a small and somewhat complex smile. "...Just watching today, hm?" Even though she's asking, there's the strong feeling that it's more metaphorical and that she Gets It.
Ishirou Ishirou gives a silent wave to Hibiki and Miku...and at Miku's words shakes his head. "I'm afraid of the mental damage that plan might have caused..."

There is a pause, "You...didn't keep the photos of that...did you?"
Ophrys     In the audience is someone new!

    An average-height woman with striking golden eyes that have a slight glow and a distinct artificial clarity to them, pale white-lavendar hair held in a buntail by a simple black clasp in such a way that the tail itself fans out and frames the silhouette of her head. With two exceptions; a pair of extensions starting at about her temples sweep up and back in graceful arcs. Almost like insect antennae.

    She's attended in a pale purple evening dress that rides on one shoulder, half-backless with a single short sleeve. Held neatly at the waist by a black corset, the lower half features a right-side leg slit broken up by a ruffled hem, all balanced on tall black heeled shoes. She's opted for subtle gold jewelry to bring out her eyes; a thin necklace and half-moon earrings with three little dangling rods on each side. A nice understated ring, a broach with an orchid flower.

    She seems like an ordinary human by all metrics, aside from the faint scent of metal and plastic under a nice lavander wash and even finer perfume.

    As Ophrys takes her seat amidst the audience, she tips her right hand up as one might if they were checking a watch on the inside of their wrist. A small rectangular holographic screen projects, and she skims through it a little bit.

    A modest bet appears in the GumbleNow app, associated with the handle QueenBee.
Hibiki Tachibana     Despite the general low-energy air hanging around the two girls, Ishirou asking that gets a brief but much more genuine smile that's closer towards Miku's sunny usual. "You're not worried someone will see them, are you, Ishirou?"

    That was not an answer to his question.

    Hibiki, who's still looking down towards the center stage and taking in Kale's Japanese-style dress, comments without turning her head. "Take the bright sides where you can get them..." Is she intentionally parroting what she said to him yesterday? Yeah, she is.
Ishirou Ishirou hangs his head, knowing that the situation had completely reversed on him.
Petra Soroka     Petra hums to herself in the changing room, raspy and off-key. Bruises stand out starkly red and purple around her pale neck, the vague shadows of fingers wrapped around it still. The vibrations from her cheerful humming rattle through her damaged throat, intensifying the throbbing ache--But isn't that the point?

    Her overalls are folded in the corner, bomber jacket hung up on a hook, and the rest of her custom ordered and tailored maid outfit is strewn around ready for her to put on. Petra attaches the final hook of her corset, raises her arms above her head and wiggles around a bit to make sure it's secure, then turns her attention to the next step in the ensemble. She researched for days, studying up on every aspect of historical, *proper* maids. If she's going to participate in a fetish competition, the least she can do is be conservative and responsible about it. So, in accordance with the times, the next piece is--Confident, tall and good ass--the bustle pad.

    It's purely a tactical thought. Last night's events revealed that Lilian's, um, interest in maids was beyond what Petra anticipated, and with that weakness exposed, it just makes sense for Petra to use all the information available to her. Anxiety quelled for the moment, Petra smiles to herself again while tying up the bustle pad, before moving to the petticoats.

    The moment is over, and the anxiety returns. Petra stands at the base of the stairs up to the arena, fully dressed, slowly turning pink while Kale makes his debut. She shifts her weight back and forth, then quickly realizes that isn't enough to burn her nervous energy, and starts pacing in tight circles instead. She grabs her metal water bottle and drains it, slamming it down with a clang.

    I'll be okay. There's no way any reporters are actually showing up for this stupid fucking thing, and if they do, I'll just kill them, or something. Is that a serious thought? Petra can't tell. Remember the goal. Be professional, polite, innocent, and rile Lilian up until she does something stupid. Ignore the bird. Ignore the audience.

    Oh god, the audience. Why are people even showing up? At least Ishirou's stupid fashion show was necessary to attend for something interesting. Are people just that excited to see me fail? That's actually a comforting idea, and Petra slowly regains her calm while considering it. Then I just have to win. I'm at war with everyone; Lilian is just their commander. And with that, Petra's finally ready to present herself on stage.
Petra Soroka     Petra is wearing an impeccably tailored, classical Edwardian-era maid outfit. The whole dress is periwinkle, with a white apron layered on top. The hem of the dress--a skirt, actually, but the seam between the top and bottom is concealed--reaches low enough to conceal her ankles, just showing flashes of her cute, functional loafers with each step. The shoes have a short heel, enough to raise her posture and minorly accentuate her figure, and a silver buckle and deep treads to be passingly similar to her combat boots. Traveling up her outfit, the shoulder straps of her apron flare out in broderie-anglaise ruffles, matched by the cuffs poking out the ends of her sleeves. Around her neck is a white cuffed collar, overlaid with a green ribbon tied in a bow, that glitters when the light hits it. Her hair is tied up in a bun, covered by a lacy cotton cap, though her hair is too short to all be bundled underneath it, and loose sections frame either side of her face.

    Resisting every urge in her body telling her to run, Petra composedly walks up to the microphone and deeply curtsies, with her dress lifted up to not touch the ground. Unavoidably, her face is bright pink, and she looks at the ground with her mouth silently open for a moment before announcing herself.

    "Master Candelario. Master Emiya." Petra's voice trembles, and she raises her face to smile as confidently at the judges as she can manage, before finishing, "Mistress Rook."

    "I look forwards to showing you my capabilities, and I hope you will be well-served by both contestants today."

    She's holding herself together, for now.
Wisconsin     The bets are piling up, and then explode... and Denver blinks a bit at the sudden numbers on the app. Wisky leans over, looks at the tablet, and then looks at the room, letting out a low wistle. "...who the heck has that sorta money to go onna silly maid competition... well."
    She fiddles with the beads on her braid, anxiously. "...I suppose there is a lot of pride among... prominent members of the factions..."

    The sudden surge in bets has the mods of the application checking for FRAUD DETECTION but it seems like everything is clearing... so Gumble Away.
Candy      Candy's eyes flick over Kale, up and down. A clipboard and pen are in front of him. He jots his observations down there, so as not to influence the performance in any way.

-Hearthward keeping it simple with outfit.
-Nice tailoring. But Lilian's code shit on the glove don't mean dick to me.
-Confident.
-Introduction 7/10. Not taking no risks, but not fucking nothing up neither.


     Petra makes her entrance, and Candy's pen scribbles as hurriedly across the paper as it had for Kale.

-Good choice of color. Goes with the hair.
-Bow is a nice touch.
-She did the dress bend knee thing.
(he doesn't know what a curtsey is)
-Introduction 8/10. Little more of a risk-taker, but not as used to wearing it as Hearthward.

     "Alright, Irish and Mr. Enemy of Women," says Candy, one hand held up to keep his voice from his microphone. He's not used to talking in front of one, so his hand scratches against it. "Here's my, ah, observations if you care." Whether they do or not, Candy's vote is a slim win for Petra.
Futaba Nuki Ishirou gets a friendly wave from Futaba when he shows up, and she gets up for a moment to check on him when it's relatively clear just by looking at him that he's not quite himself today.

"Hey, Mister Ishirou. They'll be fine, don't worry. Yesterday was just a weird fluke." She tries to reassure him with a clap on the shoulder, conveniently standing in a way that the base of her tail isn't actually visible to him while she's standing there. Anyone behind her or to the side, though, can easily notice that said base is still connected and stretching slightly to maintain a connection with that sofa.

It moves with her when she goes to take her seat again, too, raising an eyebrow at Shimmer before shaking her head slowly. "A whole lot of things. It's safety, it's reliability, it's familiarity, all sorts of things you'd never get from any old chef's uniform or cleaning jumpsuit or whatever."

Spotting Wisconsin, Denver, Hibiki, and Miku, she greets the four with a friendly wave as well before taking her seat on the tail-couch again. "Hey again! Plenty of room here if any of you want a wider spot." Futaba offers, then lets out a lightly dismissive noise at Hibiki's concern. "They'll be fine! Come on, Miss Rook's just passionate about the subject. Anyone would get mad if you messed up something they really liked and called it 'just an outfit' or 'just a book' or something. She'll be fine."

The entrances begin, and Futaba's immediately entranced. Kale's understated style is actually somewhat surprising to her considering what she's seen and heard of the boisterous bird, and she leans from side to side to get a better look at his outfit from that somewhat limited viewing angle. Petra's shift in demeanor from yesterday, too, has Futaba gawking quite a bit, leaning forward with her hands on her knees to steady herself while she does her own internal scoring of each contestant's outfit.

"... Whoa. They're ready."
Nephra Tangent     Nephra slow blinks. She's never seen Petra in the flesh, though from grandstands still isn't quite that exactly, but this girl on stage is nothing like the mental image her radio demeanor invoked. The surprise is enough to get her to actually stand up for a better view. And at her curteous announcement, Nephra immediately slams a bet down on her. A small one, but a bet nontheless.

    "Attagirl..." She's honestly baffled at the fortitude it must take to stand there like that, and Petra's subtly aggressive move of advocating for her competitor's success as well. Clever mental footwork. If this is the sort of blows being tossed around, she can't wait to see what's in store for later.
Ophrys     Ophrys' irises rotate slightly. On her little projected screen is a display of what she's seeing, a little red dot in the corner indicating Recording is in progress.

    Firstly her gaze is on the judges, zoomed in deeply on Archer, then pulling back a bit to Lilian, and finishing with Candy as the closest to her seat. Inwardly, she clearly doesn't recognize them, but intends to search a database later.

    Her eyes (and her recording) shift to the stage as the first contestant arrives. A foot-to-head passover and then a zoomout while Kale issues his greeting to the judge trio.

    Petra's arrival prompts a re-centering of the shot, zooming in, once again running from feet to head as she approaches the microphone, then zooming out for a full-body as she states her greeting as well.

    With both now catalogued, Ophrys lets out an appraising sound, her free hand stroking her chin in thought, "Personal biases would influence my own decision..." Her gaze, and thus the camera shot showing on her wrist-screen, shifts back to the trio behind the counter, "I wonder how the judges are feeling so far?"
Hibiki Tachibana     "Well...maybe you're right," Hibiki mentions off-handedly back to Futaba. It's pretty hard to tell if she actually believes it, but she still makes the effort to at least sit up a bit straighter.

    Though that might also be because the show is officially on the road - and with Petra coming out, both girls are varying states of wide-eyed. Part of it might be because Petra cleans up pretty well when she puts her mind to it. The other part is because seeing her now, doing her best to keep herself steady even in front of the crowd...no, in front of the judges as well, one of them in particular...

    "...You'd almost think yesterday never even happened."
    "And that dress! I can't imagine how much effort Petra is putting into this...""

    Which means...the judges must be deliberating between the two contestants now. As Candy brushes against the mic, Hibiki glances their direction, rubbing at her wrist with a hand. Much more quietly, to herself, "...I wonder what's going through her head now."
Ishirou Ishirou watches again, eyes focused on...

Well Petra, actually.  That's...a change, but he wonders what's the source of this motivation.  Was it really just to outdo Kale?  She didn't care about Kale, and really he wonders if her reason for getting involved in this was because of the people who saw this...

After last night...he wonders.  His eyes shoot towards Lilian's area, trying to get a read on her.  

Despite this, he does vastly prefer Petra's dress over Kale's...she's shown a bit of effort...or is it the striking difference between her normal and her now..?
DRYCLEAN-SIGINT Hiss. Quiet white noise pushes out from under the room's speakers - but only for a second. Gotta maintain the atmosphere. It lingers, though, within the devices of those recording the event - like lapping waves, gentle insinuations of directed attention.

A figure stands near one of the entryways. Tall, humanoid enough to be deeply uncanny, imposing, visualizer shining dimly in the dark. Shaded, but in just such a position to be obvious to a wary contestant. A finger rhythmically taps against the side of a secondary head; keeping time with the ebb and flow of the static undertone.

It appears there is a body to add to the tally.
Archer EMIYA      When the contestants start rolling in and introducing themselves, Emiya opens his eyes briefly to get a look at them. He just begins sucking in air through his teeth for what feels like a minute, before finally letting out an exasperated sigh. This is going to be way more painful than he initially thought.

     "Let's see... Imperialism bird is a 4/10, Lilian's stalker is a 6/10."

     When Candy asks for Emiya's judgement, he gets it almost immediately. Unfortunately, what the fellow judge gets is extremely bare, boring, and to the point. He doesn't even have a fancy clipboard like everyone else to compare and contrast the strengths and weaknesses between the two contestants, so he almost definitely just made his mind up on the spot without much thought. Or if there was a thought, it's an extremely basic one.
Sleek Shimmer     "Reliable, safe, and familiar?" Shimmer repeats, finding it difficult to figure out how to apply any of those words... but, oh well, more questions that perhaps the demonstration from these two will answer.

    And speaking of those two... she gets a pretty good look at the outfits on display and the utter change in demeanor from both Petra and Kale. "Mmmhhhhh." Her mood is lightened by the performance at the least, and Shimmer leans forward to watch and listen..
Lilian Rook     Lilian greets Candy just before the stage is made live (by Candelario, of course), but mainly rolls her eyes at Archer. "I see the King of Heroes was in particular good humour when devising this arrangement." she says, already having asked (and groaned) ahead of time, but of course needing everyone to know her opinions on it regardless.

    When Kale first hits the stage, Lilian raises an eyebrow in evident, if strongly neutral, intrigue. "Japanese style? That's interesting. I'd never taken the Gale Empire for having any inclination to 'Eastern' traditions. Still, it's loads better than what was inflicted on me yesterday. Still, you'd never pull off all the frills, so it was a good idea. Conservative, but cute. Clearly a lot of effort went into the tailoring work. Shapewear fit, custom sleeves a good fit for those arms, the straight profile works on that frame, too. The embellishments are . . ." She falls silent, then quirks the ghost of a dry grin. "A little pandery, but very true. I appreciate the intent. A tried and true response to summons. Not as much feeling as I'd like, but I appreciate how much effort it is for someone of your station to adopt."

    She looks over at Candy scribbling away on his clipboard. "Oh, are we keeping things to ourselves now?" Lilian says, clearly dismissively, shortly before remembering what came of talking a whole lot yesterday. Maybe . . . maybe just a bit less. She refuses to shut up, though. Not across from Peta, and certainly not for her benefit. "What, are you afraid the commentary will pressure the contestants? This isn't a talent show. The post of a made is a social role by necessity. Listening carefully, absorbing the employer's tastes and opinions, intuiting their moods, and adjusting their work to please, is part of the job."

    Petra comes out. Lilian looks her over by the ankles up. Her eyes linger a little where the apron is cinched in, half-deliberating how much is figure constantly hidden under the bomber jacket, and how much is costume. When she reaches the hint of bruises, Lilian softly draws breath, and bites the inside of her lower lip. Her eyes waver, but don't look away. It takes her a second to speak.

    "That's . . . a classic style. I'll admit that I expected something else from the both of you, when I heard how this entire thing started." Says Lilian, rapidly expending her ability to say anything positive to Petra. "You look practically naked without that ratty old jacket." Pressure vented. Impartiality refresh. Elbow in hand, she puts her thumbnail between her canines without really thinking when Petra gives her own greeting. It's adorable, in its own twisted way. She's really trying her hardest. Lilian is fairly certain she can imagine what degree of stress Petra must be under, like this, presenting in this way. A twinge of sympatheti pain.

    "You sound as if you're about to drop dead. What is it? Are you embarrassed? Ashamed of serving your mistress? What use is a maid who cringes out of her skin when she puts on an ordinary uniform and gives an ordinary greeting? A maid should endeavour to be calm and professional; even moreso than their employer."

    Lilian does, at least, record her scores privately. She doesn't correct Archer. "Don't hold back. Give the audience proper insight into your methods." she says.
Kale Hearthward Candy is covering his mic and not announcing all his results right off. This is good and proper for a judge, and would work better if one of the contestants didn't have some extra sensitive hearing, and was focusing specifically on the three people in front of him. Is this cheating? It's hard to say.

Kale hides his wince as Candy shares his results. Dang it. Candy's right, he should have gone for more wide appeal than tailoring (literally) elements towards just one judge.

Did he go too understated? Did he undershoot - or would it be overshoot... Well, being down by one point isn't going to make a huge difference. He'll make it up and then some.

> "Let's see... Imperialism bird is a 4/10, Lilian's stalker is a 6/10."

Now that *does* get Kale to drop his facade, for half a second. A *four*? And Petra gets *two more*? How? WHY?

One more judge to go... Kale reminds himself to be careful. He shouldn't be able to hear the results.

As he waits for Lilian to finish her notes, Kale side-eyes Petra. He was thinking this'd be a blow-out. Obviously, he was wrong. He'll need to look out for ways to step it up a notch...

... Oh, good, the 9th Code reference got a favorable result. He's... not sure if he won over on points there, though. Hmm. Probably should say something.

> "I appreciate how much effort it is for someone of your station to adopt."

"I am a civil servant, Mistress Rook. Going to serving the whims of but one master, when I am used to serving the conflicting whims of several billion Commonwealth citizens, is honestly more of a relief than anything." Kale smiles, as sweetly as he can manage.

... Hmm, was that putting that on too thick? Well, he can't unsay it now.
Aidan Proudpick "Damn. The problem is that Kale wears it with confidence. But the girl has..." Be polite, fuck, fuck, "Shape? Le? Ness? Shapeliness?" Aidan fishes out a peanut from his coat. His generic Watch pad starts to hum. Aidan looks at it, frowning. It is just part of electronics, right? He stuffs it back into the coat. "And hopefully everyone notices that's an INCREDIBLY... fash? Fash."
Candy      "Oh, that's good. I didn't even think about talking shit," says Candy to Emiya. He sounds legitimately disappointed in himself that he didn't.

     Is he afraid the commentary will pressure the contestants? "Yeah, kinda. But now maybe I think you and him have got the right idea." After all, if he or his fellow judges were to say something that got under the contestants' skin and they were to let it show, well, it wouldn't be very maid-ly, would it?

     "Now, next part is gonna be the cleaning," says Candy with a grin. "It's not just about how you wear that shit and how you keep your shit together, it's also about picking up somebody else's shit. So," he says, reaching for a console in front of him and looking over it. "I'm gonna set up two teeny little houses, side by side, for you two."

     "You're gonna tidy 'em up, ah? We'll give you... five minutes. Get it all done, right, carrying yourself the right way. And keep an eye out, because we might add more mess in while you're going. Timer starts when you hear this, ah?"

     Candy, grinning, holds a semiautomatic pistol, finger off the trigger and resting along the frame. Two for two on guns being drawn where maid dresses are present, for Petra, but at least this one isn't pointed at her.

     Setting the gun down on the table before him, he taps commands into the little console at his desk.

     Two small living spaces appear behind the contestants, side by side. Each is a cross-section of a house, with 'walls' marked out by slightly elevated sections of floor, and 'doors' marked in the typical floor-plan style. Both have a walk-in kitchen with a sink full of dishes and a full trash bag, a living area with a patina of dust on the loveseat, coffee table and bookshelf, a bedroom with unkempt sheets and clothes on the floor, and a general smattering of trash (empty food containers, cans, and the like) left haphazardly around.

     "Go ahead and stand in front of that yellow line there," he says, nodding his head towards the staging area where a yellow starting line stands before the 'living rooms' of either side. Once both of them are standing in front of the yellow line, Candy raises the gun. He waits three seconds, then pulls the trigger, firing a blank.
Ophrys     A buzz passes through Ophrys' audio, turning into a whine that only she can hear. The sort of feedback from a poorly used microphone. The only outward indication that anything happened is when the woman flinches suddenly with a little 'uhn' and one closed eye.

    The sound is quickly filtered out on the backend. While Candy sets up the cleaning demonstration, she reaches into her clutch purse and pulls out a pair of tiny machines, insect-sized, wasp-shaped drones. These float up and over to the stage, their POVs showing up on the video feed projecting on her screen; one following Kale, the other following Petra.

    The feed pulling from her own eyes cuts, and only then does Ophrys glance up and about her surroundings. The signal infiltrating her audio finds itself interrupted. A multi-stage attack algorithm intitiates and she begins a backtrace, indicators dancing across her vision-- but fortunately, not her recording.

    After a bit, she excuses herself from her seat and makes her way to the back of the auditorium. A few moments later, Ophrys slips into place a few paces from that ominous TV-headed silhouette, making a show of checking her face in a compact mirror, "That's a heck of a way to get someone's attention. Not a particularly good place to lay a trap, what were you looking for?"
Kale Hearthward Okay. Here we go.

Kale sees you, person in the audience chortling about how he's never cleaned a house before. Kale *has*. He grew up as a normal person living on a farm. He had to do farm chores, which, yes, included a chore wheel that mandated he take care of cleaning things up one night out of every week - and that was without the conveniences of electricity or running water.

So, yes, Kale knows how to clean. That's not Kale's problem.
The problem is that he's still Kale.

"Alright..." says Kale under his breath, as he looks over the emergent house, taking note of problem areas. "Let's see..."

As he steps up to the yellow line, a plan of attack starts forming in his mind. He takes his position, waiting for the starting signal...

*BANG*

He goes, in through the door, beelining for the full trash bag first, quickly tying it up and turning around and running out to the 'curb' with it, depositing it in the right spot, and quickly turning around again to head back inside.

He is... treating this like a race. Whatever Candy had said about 'carrying himself the right way' didn't seem to take?

Two fresh trash bags are grabbed, one going in the empty bin, the other being carried with Kale as he tackles the trash first. It all gets scooped up and shoved into the trash bag he's carrying, Kale continuing to move quickly - too quickly, as a bit of errant pasta sauce gets on the side of his maid outfit, and he doesn't notice.

With the trash done, the dusting is next. Is it cheating if you use wind magic? If so, Kale cheats openly and flagrantly, 'dusting' each surface with a low-powered wind spell that doesn't take more than a second to cast, before moving on to the next target. It gets the job done, at least?

The bed takes a bit to figure out. Kale gets the sheets the wrong way around, and has to start over.

Next, the clothes... how much time does Kale have? Does he have enough time to do this properly? He still hasn't done the dishes yet. Could you even handle those dishes in five minutes?

He takes a deep breath, to calm himself. One thing at a time. He focuses on running around and getting all the clothes gathered up and into the laundry room...

By now, he has at least two food stains on his dress, dust over most of the rest of it, and generally has acted like a Clean% speedrunner instead of any flavor of maid.

... But at least the house is getting clean, right?
Ishirou There is...a feedback sound.  His eyes don't leave the stage, but POD scans around for the source of the feedback.  The two of them both have very sensitive hearing, allowing for them to both hear the feedback, but can also try and trace it back.  

The source gets an eye-widening from Ishirou.  "...Why are they here..?  That's...weird.  I didn't know they were into maids.." he says, mostly to himself.  

-Not enough data to make an assumption.- POD says with a tone.  "No, I suppose not..."

Though with the new rules and field changing, Ishirou stares.  Could...either of them clean a house?  He thinks that Kale might get this out of the two of them, as Ishirou has seen what happened with the Kana during the Russian trip...
Hibiki Tachibana     "Probably just interested in watching. You know how it is," Hibiki replies back to Ishirou. Though she gives a small frown back in DRYCLEAN's direction for just a moment, probably imagining Petra's usual reaction to their presence, before going back to the stage.

    They made it past the introductory phase just fine. Nothing too bad yet. That's good. Really good. It might just be the calm before some kind of storm, but...

    But now it's time for some actual maid-ly duties. Though she'd never say it out loud, Hibiki is only mildly concerned because of what she knows very well about Petra's (former) living habits - though it's been a while since then, and as shown even today, she cleans up really well when she wants to. With how motivated she seems to have made herself for this...

"Oh my...Mr. Hearthward is going at it really quickly, isn't he? I almost can't keep up..."
"I guess this round could be anyone's game."

    Especially with this host of judges. Though, to be honest...maybe she was thinking there'd be more cut-the-air tension between Lilian and Petra than there actually is here? It'd be nice if she's just worrying over nothing.
Petra Soroka     Caught up in the energy of the moment, Petra passively absorbs the attention of the crowd, and... doesn't shrivel underneath it. She doesn't turn her attention from Lilian either, not breaking her posture to scan the audience for specific reactions. Smiling sweetly, she lifts a hand to brush a strand of hair behind her ear with a glossy nail, flashing the dark bruise on her neck.

    Her composure cracks when Emiya lackadaisically announces the pair's scores: both because this is her first interaction with the Enemy of Women, and because... she scored higher? Her smile drops into a little inhalation of surprise, which she automatically--performing her role--covers with fingers laid across her mouth. She blinks, swallows hard, and forces her face back into a polite and cheerful expression.

    Lilian's scolding is absorbed with unwavering attention, the only thing suggesting otherwise being an antagonistic--almost predatory--glint in her eyes. Still smiling, Petra bows her head and responds, "Of course, ma'am. I will endeavor to do better."

    Turning away to step up to the starting line is an enormous relief, and Petra almost collapses her posture right after breaking eye contact. Sweat shines on her forehead and tears swim in her eyes, and as soon as she feels like she can get away with it, she sucks in gasps of air and her shoulders shiver. I swear to god if I don't win this after calling her *ma'am*, I'm killing myself. I said the word *endeavor*, who *does* that?

    She finally focuses on the task set in front of her. Cleaning. That's easy, it doesn't involve talking, or looking at anyone. She can just imagine that she's at home with Remee.

"Remeeeee, could you do some dishes while I relax?"
"I'm tiiiired, could you take the trash to the airlock?"
""I-I'll clean it up. It's just, the kit arrived, and I--"


    Oh no.

    At the trigger, Petra goes for the scattered trash first, collecting it all into a second bag. With the first pieces, she bends over at the hip, moving as quickly as possible, but abruptly, between grabbing a loose can and a wrapper, she switches to crouching down and bunching her skirt up, keeping her back relatively straight. It slows her down some, though, so when the trash bag is full, she beelines to the kitchen bag with hasty steps to take them both out.

    Next, she goes to the bedroom--actually something she's very familiar with cleaning. Despite everything you would expect to the contrary, Petra is the type of girl to wake up early and make her bed each morning, and the bedroom is tidied quickly, clothes and all. Into the living area, she first hurries over to the loveseat, and flips open a pouch on her apron. She pulls out a handful of crushed tea leaves, dampened just a little bit with her water bottle earlier, and sprinkles them over the cushions. Scurrying away to leave that to rest for a moment, she quickly wipes down the rest of the room, not as thoroughly as she should, leaving the legs of the table and the books within the shelf mostly untouched. Returning to the loveseat, she dusts the frame of it, then sweeps the tea leaves off into another pouch, freshening up the cushion and leaving it lightly scented.

    She's rushing to the kitchen, just having picked up the first dish, by the time her five minutes is up, and freezes in place. At least I don't have to do dishes.
DRYCLEAN-SIGINT The tapping ceases; hand grabs secondary monitor and rotates it to face Ophrys. Arms fold behind back - fresh polyrhythms of finger on leather start anew, the feedback coming from them forming a harmonic line on top. Nothing else moves - DRYCLEAN finds it quite important to keep up a look.

    "A trap implies some sorta ill-intent, don't it. Was more interested in seein' if any folks would actually check th'signal, y'know? It's downright disappointin' how many self-styled computer whizzes ain't got the, ah, guts t'come say hello."

They pause for a second. "Or the know-how, ha ha."

An uncomfortably long arm is extended towards Ophrys for a handshake - "Name's DRYCLEAN-SIGINT. Pleasure's mine."
DRYCLEAN-SIGINT

It's notable that despite one hand ceasing to tap, the rhythm is maintained. There's no visible malicious intent - presumably. Frankly, it's hard to glean anything from their body language. Just the way I want it.

DRYCLEAN's jarring, disjointed voice suddenly crackles through the control unit for Ishirou's VRCS. "Now, now. Jus' professional curiosity. This whole shindig's the talk of the town, ain't it, and any reporter worth their salt wouldn't miss it for the world, ha ha."

Then, static, almost inaudible, begins to flow through Ophrys' little drones alongside another similar [AUDIO FEED DUPLICATED] alert. They didn't even move. God dammit. Tracing these, though, just points at... Petra? The data's there. Very clear, very obvious, stands up to all the rigors. But that's just a little practical joke.
Nephra Tangent     Nephra is leaning precariously over a viewing balcony's railing, pumping her foam-fingered fist in the air at the...... positive-ish reception Petra's debut recieved. She's hooting and hollering like the tipsy sports-fan she's playing the part of, and bouncing on her toes just enough to move, but never leave the ground.

    The onset of the first challenge, however, excites her for the split second it takes to realize she's locked herself in to not only watching strangers do chores, but caring about one of them doing it /better/. Criminy. At least there's some joy to be had watching the contestents, not cockroaches, scatter when there's trash bags to be moved. They're both taking it far more seriously than could be watched with a straight face, and Nephra's is grinning ear to ear.
Lilian Rook     "My, you certainly went for the entire affair, Candelario." Lilian remarks as the faux houses pop up. "At this point, I wouldn't be surprised if they had an entire micro-home each. Do you really think they can get all of that done in five minutes? Or is prioritization and progress part of the importance, to you?" she murmurs conversationally. "That's difficult to judge, you know. I've never had a maid who left a job half-finished for time constraints."

    Kale sprints into the fucking house and Lilian groans. "Please Hearthward. I'd very much like if I could score you higher in good conscience. Don't you have any pride in one-upping that nasty little cunt?" she whispers under her breath.

    Enough watching. Lilian stands up from her seat, gently blows back her dress with a brush of her hands. She takes a few menacing click-clack steps away from her table for drama, then appears down on the stage. She struts into Kale's false domicile first. Candy had already given her leeway he probably really shouldn't have, but the thermos full of what appears to be lukewarm coffee in her hands must have come from her bag. Maybe? It doesn't steam when she slowly unscrews the cap, walks a half circle in his way, and drizzles it all over the ground in front of him to block his progress.

    "Oops. Looks as if there's been an unforeseen complication. Such are the realities of the job in the real world." She looks directly into his eyes in a meaningful way, evening and raising her voice slightly. "Complications are why you have to take things at a rational and efficient pace. Excessive haste threatens to create more mess. This is at least as much asyou could expect racing around a house like that. Clean it up." She click-clack click-clacks away, and appears on Petra's set next.

    "That's a cute little touch." she says, clearly meaning the seat. "But isn't that premature? You aren't done. What else might muddy up your scent profile." She tips the thermos. "It's presumptuous." A dribble of coffee splashes out, but barely makes so much as a stain before it runs dry. Lilian shakes the canister a few times in displeasure. "Who's been drinking-- Well, no matter. We'll do something else." She looks Petra directly in the eyes, then she glances down.

    Lilian spits at Petra's feet.
    "Wipe it up."
Ishirou Ishirou heard that, DRYCLEAN.  

A screen pops up with sticker Ishirou, "Because I'm focused on the show, and not you.  I can still hear you," the sticker sticks its tongue out at DRY CLEAN.  

Ishirou starts analyzing their cleaning and thinking about it.  "Kale is rushing, as usual...though he does show that he's done some of this before.  That rushing is going to be a detractor, especially with his lack of care for the outfit.."

On the other hand, "Petra is moving too slowly...but showing more care in places and less rush..."

Then Lilian happens...and he gasps.  

"...Ladies are scary. (positive)" he says to the people around him.  How could Lilian have this much power?  How will the two of them respond to it..?  Could either Candy or Archer do worse than this?  Well no, but what will Archer do?  

Probably something scummy.
Ophrys     The woman closes her eyes, listening to Dryclean's disjointed but nice and casual delivery. When the hand extends towards her in that inhumanly articulated way, due to their relative positioning, she closes the compact and tucks it into her purse, then accepts the handshake.

    Despite her bare hand, her grip is metallic. There's clearly a disguise at work here. Also when the handshake concludes-- it becomes clear she's palmed a business card into their hand.

    "You can call me Ophrys," she introduces herself with a chipper tone to her voice, "I'm involved in dispute resolution, data acquisition, and many other related fields. If you find yourself in need, I offer quite competitive rates for my services."

    Her attention returns to the stage, lifting up her forearm and projecting her screen again. It shows the views from her WASP drones, side by side, "It's nice to meet you, even if it's technically while on the job."

    Lilian occurs and the lady draws in a breath, "Oh. What a twist..!"
Candy      "It's difficult to judge," says Candy to Lilian, one hand cupping his mouth to keep it from carrying to the mic. "But it's still an important part of cleaning. Say for instance you just make a list, and you go down the list. Even if you get most of it done, what gets left *un*done still says a lot. You have guests over, they are gonna be thinking about it, you know?"

     It should be well known, by now, that Candy will give Lilian far more leeway than she should ever have, just to see what happens. He certainly gets what he was looking for, in terms of both Kale and Petra.

     "Kale's getting it done quick, but his outfit took some collateral damage from all that ass-hauling," Candy notes to the other judges, as Lilian creates a complication for him. "And besides what Lilian said, something don't sit right with me about a maid that hurries. Like a thin chef, you know?" He glances briefly over to Emiya.

     "Nice trick with the tea leaves from Petra," he then notes, looking over at her area. "Little sloppy on the dusting job, though." The spit from Lilian invokes an expression of amusement, although--

     "That lucky motherfucker," he says into the mic.

     Not without a shade of mild jealousy. "It should be me up there, goddammit," he says to Emiya, pointing at the competition.
Aidan Proudpick Aidan watches silently, his eyes getting a little wide. At first, hey, this seems like a fun game, it will be amusing to watch. A little weird, sure, but it's like one of those shows he's seen on the tablet.

Then Lillian starts to get AGGRESSIVE. Aidan sits up slowly in his seat, looking around at the people in the audience around him. "Uh, this is starting to get really personal? And mean? Should we stop this?"
Hibiki Tachibana     Ishirou isn't alone in his gasping - Miku joins him with another hands-clasped-over-mouth one, and Hibiki's eyebrows raise up for quite a bit longer than a moment.

    Though her lips purse for a second, it's not like she didn't mess with Kale, too. This has a bit of a different vibe from the spilled coffee, though. "...Is this what you meant when you said she..." A slight shift in her chair when trailing off and a glance to Ishirou implies she's thinking about something he mentioned, before she looks back down to the stage.

    Hibiki is very conflicted on how she feels about this method of 'breaking'. It's a lot different than what she's used to. Will Petra be able to keep it together...?
Nephra Tangent     Nephra had been looking in the wrong place for the oncoming bloodbath. Foolish, to think, the competitors were anything but the punching bags of the judges. Her bouncing stops, and, her smile goes slack.

    "Holy shit." Is the only phrase she can muster, as her un-foamed hand quickly fumbles through her pockets. The tipsyness already having reddened her face is good armor for her thoughts while watching the unfolding events, and she absentmindedly unwraps a blowpop to focus on. Cherry flavor. What a show.
Kale Hearthward Kale skids to a halt when Lilian appears in front of him. Is she... going to tell him to do something? Are they on that phase of the competition?

His eyes track the coffee as it's drizzled out... and then his eyes meet hers. (Wait, is he supposed to make eye contact with his employer or not? He should have done more research.)

"Yes, Mistress Rook. I'll take more care and not rush."

This is... Lilian just doing her job, as a judge. As she should! Kale doesn't need to take it personally. He decides to not take it personally.

And... it's something she's telling him, isn't it? He shouldn't rush. He's losing points by rushing. That's what she's telling him.

"I'll clean it up right away, Mistress Rook-" Oh, she's gone already. Well.

Okay. Cleaning up coffee. He'd need... a mop? Wait, what else in the house could benefit from a mopping. He should slow down and think things through, instead of rushing.

... Slowing down and thinking things through isn't a core Kale skill. As he's focusing, he overhears what's being said in the other set...

... and he double takes. Oh. Lilian was being easy on him.

Shit.

She really does like him, after all.
Archer EMIYA      "The King of Heroes said I'm not required to do the sort, and who am I but a humble blacksmith to refuse such an oppurtunity?"

     The way Lilian phrased it, it sounds like she already might have a clue as to his methods. If she wants to share with the class, that's fine though. He's not going to be one who kills himself this time, however.

     When the cleaning challenge gets under way, it takes everything in Emiya's power to remain in his seat, but at the very least, he's now paying attention. A bit too much attention, given that he's leaning across his desk and watching the two very hard with an extremely critical eye.

     "Perhaps."

     He just sort of brushes off Candy's comments as a single thought runs through his head over and over again - They are so fucking bad at this. He grips his desk in frustration, before turning away once Lilian shows up to introduce more complications. By then, he's already seen enough to come to his conclusion.

     "O.1 for the bird and 0.2 for the stalker. Again, I'm not going to bother explaining, I don't have the hours to explain, given by the time I'd be done, the Earth will have shriveled up and died."

     There's legitimate disgust and annoyance in his voice now, a noticeable change from his previous smugness. If not for just how fat the stack of cash he got was, he'd be leaving to strangle Gilgamesh after realizing he was paying him to torture himself.
DRYCLEAN-SIGINT Voice from POD. They're just showing off, now. "Pal, you ain't the one I'm directin' my vague but implicative insults towards, ha ha. You got the capabilities, and I ain't one for makin' vagueries about folks when they're present, y'know." The screen crackles with visual static, [PLEASE HOLD] covering the sticker, before it clears and a similarly stylized image of themselves replaces it - same pose, but obviously the monitor has to suffice with only displaying a grin instead of a tongue.

Business card is kept within their hand, held foward slightly as they repeatedly run a thumb over the front. Their other hand reaches up to adjust a secondary dial. "Meetin' on the job's the modus operandi, ain't it? Investigative journalism always turns out that way, ha ha. I'll keep that offer in mind."

Lilian's... maneuver, perhaps, elicits a quiet sound clip of someone giving an intrigued whistle. "Well, ain't that interestin'. Glad I showed up t'get that under consideration, ha ha."

Nothing strange about that statement.
Kale Hearthward Zer-

Zero-

Zero point ONE?

POINT?

ZERO!?

ZERO POINT ONE?!

Kale has to try several times to properly mentally express how much indignation he feels over Archer's response.

Just... focus on the coffee. Focus on the spilled coffee. Focus on winning the competition.

Still. Archer's comment is going to be echoing around inside his head for a while.
Petra Soroka     Petra slowly puts the plate she's holding back in the sink, hesitating and unsure if she should stop. It's practically unsatisfying. Having her cleaning inertia halted so suddenly like that. It takes her a moment to remember that all of this cleaning is pointless and manufactured anyways, and doing more of it isn't better beyond the scoring.

    She turns away from the sink, habitually tries to shove her hands in her bomber jacket pockets and looks awkward when they aren't there. Unsure of what else to do with them, she laces her fingers together in front of her apron and straightens up. With a brief pause in the task-based distractions, Petra grows increasingly self-conscious, blushing furiously. She finally can't help but wander her eyes across the audience, even though doing so could only be bad for her.

    Ishirou is staring, maybe more at her? Ugh, well, she deserves that, a little. Bikki and Miku are, suprisingly enthusiastic? They don't look like they're afraid to ever be seen around Petra again, so that's good. There's some girl... Nephra? What the hell does #1 Petra mean? A few people she doesn't really know, which is... really uncomfortable, and she has to assume they're with Kale. But that's a, surprisingly positive ratio?

    Petra's thoughts are snapped back to herself by the sound of Lilian's heels against the stage, reasserting her posture at the noise and jolting to attention. When Lilian appears in front of her, Petra stiffens, wide-eyed at the sudden proximity. Lilian being as radiantly dressed as she is, the expected dynamic asserts itself subconsciously in her mind. The bruise on her throat throbs. She swallows hard, meeting Lilian's gaze unsteadily, with gritted teeth. Petra does know, actually, that you're supposed to look at your superior when she talks to you. She studied this.

"Wipe it up."

    Petra flinches worse than she had when Lilian pulled a gun on her. That's not fair. She didn't make Hearthward do this. She's sick, and cruel, and fucked in the head. I have boundaries, this whole fucking thing has pushed them but I can still refuse something that makes me uncomfortable. Show some fucking spine, for once.

    But it's more pragmatic--easier--to do what Lilian says. She doesn't expect me to. Eyes still locked on Lilian's as she crouches down, Petra pulls a rag out of her apron, and wipes up both the coffee and the spit.

    "Is that, to your satisfaction, ma'am?" Nothing anyone else says registers to her.
Ophrys     Ophrys laughs a little at DRYCLEAN's comment, "Hmm~... I suppose you're right. So you're a journalist?" Tilting her head towards them, she closes one eye, "I would've guessed something a lot more technical, considering the kit you're carrying around."

    She's decided to ignore the signal duplication with her WASPs, even when the source is redirected. She's fairly sure that's DRYCLEAN latching on to media just like before.

    A second signal barges in alongside the first and she knits her brows a bit with a thoughtful noise, "Are you doing it again? It's a little impolite if you don't ask first, I'd be more than willing to share my camera feed."

    Readouts scrawl across her vision as she barges into the second signal and initiates a backtrace on it. The first one pointed at Petra, which she assumed was DRYCLEAN playing around with how obvious they're being-- she assumes, on purpose. The second one, she reasons, must be someone else.

    "Oh, but the idea of a maid competition seems perfect for television, now that I've seen it in action. Even with the..." She gestures slightly, "...hiccups in the format we'd probably need to adjust a bit for rating purposes... It could be pretty successful!"
Ishirou This situation is becoming...awful, honestly.  On the other hand, he's at least learning that the job isn't all glamor, and just how important this kind of job can be in a house.  Though...on the other hand, he's not too keen on this.  Rita's boat seems more...well, right to him.  Though, people still have positions of leadership there too?  

He takes a breath, no, not important now.  

Sticker-Ishirou moves to get out from under sticker-DRYCLEAN.  "Hey, don't do that!  Well, that's all good to know...but what's the interest in this event..?  Do you...like maids too?" he asks finally.  

He also notices that Kale is losing it.  Though he /does/ barely hold it together.  
Wisconsin     The bets have started to evolve at the point. Before it was just some simple "Oh hey, who's gonna win, Kale or Petra?" but now?

    Degeneracy has prevailed on GumbleNow, but like... not the degeneracy that some people might be looking for. No it's all in the side bets now.
    How's the mess going to get cleaned? Is Archer going to snap and get emotional? Is Petra going to snap and actually shoot members of the audience? Will more accidental messes happen? Will this start an interfactional fight?
    Clearly the main bets are still on the primary victor, but this has turned into an emotional rollercoaster and the money is sloshing around now.

    Denver is staring at the little tablet, and is thanking her stars she shelled out for Premium Gold level before coming here tonight. "...this is a LOT of money. This is worse than some soccer games I've seen."

    Wisconsin, though, has tossed in her lot for a particular side. "USE THE SPIC N SPAN, KALE, YOU GOT THIS!"
Lilian Rook     "Good." Lilian says to Kale, satisfied with just that. She makes the very brave decision to trust that he knows what she meant by it. And by that, it's meant that she can tell. Good enough. She'd really prefer Kale win, but she has standards, and blatantly boosting him up just looks petty and insecure.

    She smirks, a little, at Emiya's judgement. "So you do have a sense of pride in you somewhere, Archer." says Lilian, loud enough to be heard back at the judge table.

    Lilian's stare on Petra feels like being hosed down with ice water. Not a single twitch escapes her. Not one uncomfortable tremble in her body, bending down and wiping the floor in humiliation. She watches like a machine. Like a cold and unthinking sensor that scans every inch of soiled flooring for its refractive index and prints out a result to a scientist somewhere to dispassionately glance over. When Petra speaks again, Lilian leans down, superficially to examine the floor a little closer, but mostly so that Petra has to look at her, first hearing "Yes. It is.", at a normal volume, and then, low enough that only the two of them can hear, "After all, for the rest of your life, you'll always be that girl who bent over and cleaned it up. You can't take it back now. Seeing you lower than my spit is as satisfactory as you've ever been."

    Lilian straightens up, neatly whirls around, click-clack steps a few paces for audience conveyance, and reappears sitting down in her chair. She scribbles a new score on her datapad, and remains silent until the timer goes.
Candy      And that's time! Candy waits for the buzzer to finish buzzing, then adjusts his mic, complete with a feedback screech. "This thing is fucked," he says, pointing to the mic, just in time for it to stop screeching and to broadcast that to the audience, again. "Oh," he says, oblivious. "Now it works. Ok..."

     "Well, I'm going by what you went after first, how you kept your shit together, and how good you did it. 2 points for both of you, on account of you both started with the trash, but waited to do the living room. You wanna go with what the guests are gonna see first, if you ask me."

     "For, ah, keeping your shit together," Candy continues, glancing at Kale, "2 points for Hearthward. My friend, you were hauling ass like a hog running from Christmas. And you got a stain on your outfit. Good work on the apology, thoigh." Then, a glance towards Petra.

     "3 points for Petra, there. Brisk, but not in a hurry. Plus the thing with Lilian."

     "Then we come to doing it right. Can't give either of you full marks for that. Kale, you had to redo the bed, and Petra, you left some of the dusting undone. Call it 2 points each. Final score..."

     "Kale 6/10, Petra 7/10."

     "Next part! Lilian!"
Petra Soroka     Ice water, splashed on her face and trickling down her neck with frigid malice, is like slapping Petra awake from a dream. A stark return to reality. What the *fuck* is she doing? How is any of this helping her? She just cleaned up Lilian's *spit*!

    Petra stays crouched on the ground, stunned and quivering while Lilian returns to the judge's table. *Everyone* just saw her do that, why didn't she refuse? She clutches at the collar of her dress, suddenly feeling suffocated by it, breathing picking up into frantic hyperventilation as Candy makes his announcement.

    It's only by sheer inertia that Petra struggles back up to standing, arms wrapped around herself and shivering. Her previously effortful posture is gone, shoulders drawn inwards. The lights shine harshly down on her and she looks queasy, refusing to look at the audience or judges. Her fingers flex and twitch uncomfortably, like she's barely restraining herself from grabbing or punching something.

    With a burst of motion, Petra reaches up and rips the cap off her head, throwing it to the ground. She runs her hand through her hair, undoing the bun, and shakes her head out like a dog, so her hair settles back into its usual position. A little more like herself.
Lilian Rook     Lilian smirks down on Petra when she tears the cap off. She doesn't even try to hide it. "I'll give contestant Soroka a moment to gather herself. She committed so much effort to historical accuracy, that I'd hate to see this simply devolve into a maid-themed contest." She doesn't need to read her mind to get the picture. The barbs come naturally to her.

"The last round is a service round. As I'm the one qualified to judge by qualitative experience, my fellow judges will observe for all the details they are able." Lilian pushes out her chair, and begins sorting items out of her purse, purposefully placing them on the desk one by one in neat array. She probably prepared them at the same time as the thermos. "There are countless small tasks a maid may be expected to perform as part of their duties, and numerous varieties and posts of maid. In this instance, I've prepared a pair of individual minor tasks that I should expect each contestant to be able to accomplish according to their known proficiencies."

    Laid out on one side of the table, an over-elbow glove, ostensibly patterned to fit with the showstopping outfit Lilian is wearing, but clearly ripped at the upper cuff, through its reinforcement. With it, she smoothly removes the lid on a well-stocked and meticulously arranged sewing kit. "I considered having this mended before the competition, but then I decided to interpret it as a fortuitous event, and not mind showing a little arm." And those arms, too. "Hearthward. You have fifteen minutes." She nods towards Archer; this is something he should know well.

    "Soroka." Next comes a flat-topped jar with a screw-on lid. A tiny brush. A cloth belt. Lilian produces a little more, and then turns her chair aside, displacing it from the table. It's easy enough to see the tip of one heeled shoe bouncing up and down thoughtfully in her leg over knee posture, the split dress leaving only some to the imagination down the side. "That little stunt of yours yesterday resulted in my shoe being scuffed. You also have fifteen minutes."

    "Polish my boots."
DRYCLEAN-SIGINT Their sticker shifts to the side, giving an exaggerated laugh pose, very LINE. And then, a click, a playback of the tail end of Ishirou's response, "Too." Back to their normal voices. "That your reasonin'? Reckoned it was more, ah, solidarity, but that's a good a reason as any, ha ha." The lack of actual answer rings.

DRYCLEAN's hands once more fold behind their back. Neither they nor their monitors have shifted even a little as time has passed past that manual adjustment; just their arms, tapping away. It would be easy to construe them as a very DRYCLEAN-shaped statue with a few articulated parts, really.

"Journalism's serious business, ha ha. Wouldn't want t'be caught lackin' in a critical theatre, would I." There's a strange amount of emphasis on the clip used to say 'theatre'. It really, really sounds like that spelling. "Plus, it all comes with th'territory. Ain't like I can just not do it, ha ha. On that note, there's no reason t'worry about my, ah, listenin'. Easier t'use other folks' Eye Oh on-site, y'know? Keeps costs low, adaptability high. Harmless, too, and a good look."

Signals contort. Traceback locale points to- for fucks sake. Kale? It's just being used to direct the listeners' attention. "Fella's good at sewin', but I reckon he'll do somethin' mighty silly with it. Eyes peeled, folks."
Kale Hearthward The final task is... sewing.

Sewing?

Sewing!

YES! Kale is hecking *great* at sewing!

Kale goes to fistpump - but then catches sight of what he wrote on his left glove. Right. He... needs to not show off. Right.

"Yes, Mistress Rook."

He approaches, and looks over the sewing kit. "Oh... thank you, Mistress Rook. This is a very nice kit. If I may..."

He takes the glove, picks out and threads a needle, and -

"Oh, apologies. If you'll excuse me." He carefully moves both the kit and the glove over to a corner of Lilian's table, so that he's not working right in her face.

He focuses. First, mend the tear, then- hmm.

The tear itself is easy enough to mend. But he should add a bit to the reinforcement, if it tore that easily. Quietly, as subtly as he can, Kale glances over at Lilian, then back down at the glove. Should he ask her about it? Should he just... do it? It's one of those trivial matters, right?

The tear gets mended with fine thread, before anything else. Kale focuses. This requires concentration, and attention to detail, and... oddly enough, unlike most anything else in this competition, or really anything in life in general, Kale for once does not rush, seek shortcuts, or just start in blindly. He spends a minute working out the stitches he'll need, and then methodically follows them. In, under, out, over. In, under, out, over. It's like he's someone else.

He's in his own little world. Whatever else is going on, up to and including Petra bleeding out on the floor, he's focused on his needlework.

At fourteen minutes and twenty-five seconds, he unthreads his needles, puts them away neatly in the kit, and places it and the repaired glove in front of Lilian wordlessly.
Petra Soroka     Petra should've brought her gun. Why did she leave in the changing room? To prevent herself from doing the exact thing she wants to now, of course, but she was overconfident. At this point, she just wants to pull it out and get this whole thing over with, one way or another.

    Petra glares up at Lilian's table, tears pricking in her eyes. She stays defiantly still, refusing to put the cap back on, hands white-knuckle gripping the cloth of her skirts. *Fuck* skirts. Nothing good has ever come from Petra wearing them. The heavy cotton drags and scratches at her legs as she takes a shuddering step towards the judges, before freezing in place and processing Lilian's words.

    Her mouth opens wordlessly, she turns red with frustration. She looks to the audience, wet eyes silently asking anyone to challenge this. Is this what you came to see? Tears fall down her cheeks, she closes her mouth, and the color slowly drains from her face, a pale sickly-green.

    Petra can still win this. The points, don't matter, even though she's far ahead by that metric. That's not what winning means.

    Someone has to lose for Petra to win.

    Petra slowly twists her hair up, taking a few steps back to retrieve her cap. She puts it back on, carefully readjusts the loose strands, pats her shoulder ruffles back into place. Already two minutes spent, out of fifteen.

    Walking over to Lilian, Petra's steps seem steady from a distance, but she trembles with constant internal shivering, and her expression has flatlined. Her demeanor has shifted, the bright colors of her dress seeming to wash out her skin rather than projecting cheerful energy. She takes each stair as if walking to the gallows, and presents herself to the judges with a tired, almost careless, air. Instead of looking at Lilian, she looks at Candy contemplatively for a long second.

    Petra silently takes the boot cleaning materials and kneels down in front of Lilian, eyes firmly locked on the ground, skirts neatly bundled up. She twists off the top of the jar, delicately lays it on the ground, and dips the brush in.

    With her first stroke, Petra starts talking. "Are you this abusive to all your maids? Talking down to them, reveling in their suffering, creating cruel, pointless tasks for them?" She moves to the side of the heel, evenly spreading the polish around. "I don't believe that, not really. Not with how you talk about them."

    "So, then, what is it? Some desperate desire for control?" Brush, brush, one shoe done. "Are you trying to recover from stuff you were put through, by making yourself the one in control? Did someone spit on you," brush, "scream at you," brush, "beat you," brush, "and humiliate you, like this?"

    Petra looks up at Lilian for the first time since approaching, smiling. She snaps the belt between her hands.

    "Or are you more familiar with canes, Lily-R?"
Ishirou Ishirou really doesn't like how DRYCLEAN never answers direct questions.  Why is he like this?

However, the next event was up, and despite what people thought...it wasn't cooking.  To be fair, that might be more Archer's thing.  Right now, however, he watches things.  Sowing...he actually didn't know Kale could do that, and he watches.  He's very focused on the job, and ...doesn't get distracted by anything.  That might tip the scales in his favor..!  

Though the boot comment gets a small frown from him.  She knows what she's doing, but nothing Lilian does here has been incidental.  However...

The comment from Petra cuts.  He remembers how Lilian looked at the cane...he remembers making sure to hide it the moment he could.  He tilts in his chair now, watching this...getting ready to act.  That...line was crossed and someone was going to get hurt from this.  

He doesn't want it to be either of them, but...in his heart of hearts his words were clear.  'Please don't be hurt, Lilian..'  This might cause him to distress later, that he favored one over the other.  
Candy      "Yeah, sure," says Candy. He can judge for the details he's able to. Though he's not used to being served--this will probably be the area he's least qualified for.

     Sewing and shoe-shining? Candy furrows his brow. Neither of those could be called his forte, or even something he's familiar with, barring spur-of-the-moment help his wahy friends could provide.

     "Well, good for you, birdie," says Candy, mildly impressed. Either Kale took his previous criticism to heart, or this is something that he knows not to rush for some other reason. Either way, Candy steps down from the judges' booth to take a closer look.

     He returns Petra's long look with concern--he'd seen, of course, during his glances towards her side, the redness of her face. Is she about to cry?

     Then comes the comment about the cane. "Oh, my friend," says Candy, lamentingly. "You really shouldn't have said that." It's the tone of voice, the expression, of a foreman who just watched an engineer decouple a train car and send it barreling downhill to crash into the engine of the train behind it.

     Candy sighs. There are only a few seconds to act, here, but a few seconds stretches longer for Candy than anyone else here but Lilian. She feels it, when time stops.

    Candy has a pen--the one from his desk--and two index cards. He writes a message on each, though nothing appears on them as yet. The second one takes considerably longer to write. One blank card is slipped between the fingers of Ishirou, the other between DRYCLEAN's bundled cables.


    Time resumes.
-Index cards appear in Ishirou and DRYCLEAN's possession.
-Messages crawl across the cards in a hurried hand.
-Ishirou's reads 'broadcast interruption. now.' Short and to the point.
-DRYCLEAN's is not. It reads 'she crossed a line and she's about to find out. if you're recording, stop. no one outside learns about this. no games, no interrogations, no bullshit from you. you want a reason, it's a privacy thing, and leave it at that.'
-Candy is back in his judge's seat.
Ishirou Ishirou is woken up from his stupor before the turn ends, looking at a card that has appeared in front of his face.  It takes him only seconds to read and immediately he motions toward the cameras.  

Immediately, he aims to shut down the broadcasts immediately.  Then erase the last few minutes from the tapes.  Then try and send a signal out to the locations they were transmitting to do the same on that end.  Just enough to make sure any footage of this is gone forever.  

"...That might be...illegal.." he says slightly out loud.
Ophrys     "Oh, I agree wholeheartedly!" Ophrys' response to DRYCLEAN is as genuine as can be, "I may work in human resources, but my company got its start in media including news journalism. I can't help but respect journalists. It's very important work."

    Signal tracing gets redirected. Considering it wasn't DRYCLEAN's suspected signal she was tracing, though, this produces a little frown on the woman's face, "Oh, please stop. I'm pretty sure that signal isn't even yours--"

    She pauses, though, as text pops up in the lower corner of her vision. Anonymous as it is, she just relaxes a bit and states out loud, "Oh, all right. If you're going to be polite about it."

    The WASP drones circle at a respectable distance around either contestant, only making a faint buzzing sound. They are basically robot insects, after all. It's audible, but faint and easy to tune out.

    Ophrys glances back towards the stage suddenly, though doesn't comment on whether she picked up any of what was said.
Hibiki Tachibana     Despite things having yet to hit any sort of true breaking point, and maybe even going better than Hibiki expected despite--...no, that's not true. It's really obvious that Petra either experienced some flash of lucidity or she's approaching her limit on being able to deal with this the moment she threw the cap off.

    She told Ishirou, how hard just standing back and letting this happen was, even though she trusts him and Lilian. Seeing that, it brings back that undeniable urge in her chest to get out of her seat and do...something. Say something. What 'something'? Would any 'something' be enough to make things better? She still doesn't know the answer to that.

    A moderate amount of the tension fades, or at least she thinks so, when Petra puts her hair back up and gets back to it. She seemed so confident and put-together when she stepped out here at first, but now...Hibiki can only hope that she can get past this test and keep things moving on without ending up where they did yesterday. That hope ends up...

    'You have to promise, Bikki, you have to promise that you won't be on my side when I stop deserving it.'

    "...biki? ...Hibiki?"

    Miku, unaware of any fine details but nevertheless visibly concerned since Petra began speaking like that towards Lilian, only grows much moreso looking towards Hibiki - who's clenching down on her chair's armrests tightly enough that the material is starting to strain, her expression caught somewhere between mortified and shocked. The beads of sweat starting to form on her face are probably from a /cold/ sweat.

    And for once, she doesn't answer the other girl. Her focus is laser-locked on the stage, her slightly shaking body unable to decide if it's stuck in place or wants to move as fast as it can. To do...what? "...Petra...are you seriously trying to..." Once that kind of line is crossed, the both of them...
Wisconsin     As Ishirou starts handling the 'none of what you are about to see actually happened, it's a fake, we made it up', the same starts happening in the betting systems. Current outstanding side bets pay out, and then the rest are invalidated, money sloshing back out of GumbleNow the way it immediately sloshed in. Whoever that mysterious bettor is will find all of their money back on the primary bets of 'Who's Gonna Win'.

    Wisconsin and Denver, still pretty much out of the loop on the main scuttlebutt going on, still know what an information blackout looks like, and... Wisky glances to Ophrys. "...I think we might need to back up just a little bit more."
Nephra Tangent     Lollipop stick clenched between molars, Nephra's far enough from the catastrophic buildup of tension on stage to keep smiling stupidly, and clapping one hand against foam. Kale's work is straight-forward and calm, and nothing much to watch. And even for a scant few golden moments, it seems like Petra's back to the mask of good behavior, as she puts her hair back up, and follows instructions, as clearly loaded as they were.

    But then the air changes, with Petra's poisonous lines, and like when hearing an in-joke she doesn't get, Nephra just stills, save for blinking, to watch the ripples of activity bounce throughout the audience. A sinking feeling tells her that even the nosebleed seats may not be out of range from the inevitable-seeming splash zone. Her smile only widens.
DRYCLEAN-SIGINT Felt something. A hand raised to a neck. One directive, not followed. The rest? Well, I ain't a monster.

In tandem with any efforts put forward by Ishirou, there's a sudden - and loud - communications blackout. Nothing in. Nothing out. Connections hijacked, signal drops, datastreams grabbed by the neck and choked. Yet, it all seems so normal. Nothing flashes in error; there's no blatant blip, or any sign of a connection being lost. It's all just redirected - filtered through an operator in orbit. Even Ishirou's more direct erasure doesn't seem wildly out of the ordinary.

We're dropping this scene. Director's cut ain't forthcoming.

Ophrys' drones sputter. The benign connections have almost instantaneously wormed inside, trying to simply completely wrest control of all AV input, running it through some incomprehensible codec format. Encryption moves like a living thing - hashes adjusted on the fly, fresh math invented just to try to keep it unintelligible.

DRYCLEAN taps the side of their neck, carefully folding the paper down. "Well, Miss Ophrys, seems we gotta take this lil' segment off the air. Ain't gonna be suitable for the wider audience, ya dig? Would appreciate not fussin' with it too bad while I'm workin', ha ha. Extant data'll be a-ok."

Static washes.

One recording remains.
Lilian Rook     Petra cries. Lilian looks on impassively. No matter how much she trembles and flushes and sobs and snots up, she won't break the kayfabe of a bored and elitist judge. She looks only judgementally expectant when Petra takes her time walking up, staring right into her face through every awkward inch of her journey, projecting the sense of being so much taller than her even while sitting down. But when Petra kneels down, accepting her lot once again, bent before her in a dress of her own devising and polishing Lilian's boot in apology for being stepped on, even Lilian can't help smiling. Just a little.

    It slips off her face, when Petra begins talking back, but it doesn't reverse. Belligerent yapping from a tiny, helpless dog. Biting from a rat. "To precisely none of them. Unlike you, they provide something of value to society. Unlike you, they're capable of putting their pride aside, caring for others, and putting their best into their work. But this isn't a competition meant to simulate if I'd hired you. It's meant to simulate the maid experience in general. This sort of hazing is nothing compared to what many maids go through."

    All she has to do is to tilt back her shoe to tip Petra's chin, forcing her to look up past Lilian's bared thigh and into her eyes as she speaks. "Which is to say, the fact that you have to whine and cry about it proves that you don't even have the mental resilience of a maid. An ordinary household servant has shouldered more, and come out better, than you ever have. Should I deduct points for being so internally bankrupt? So hollowly rotten to the core? I won't, if you can keep your head down and your mouth shut for eight more minutes. Then we can all go home."

    Her icy expression and contemptuous stare remains immovably in place as the ragging continues. It's like trying to belittle a glacier. Trying to beat shame into a sword. She puffs air humourlessly between her lips at the assertion itself that she could ever not be in control.

    It's at the last sentence where her look changes. It shifts before Petra even speaks. The moment Petra's own face changes, something clicks behind Lilian's eyes; realization, recognition of that vague, horrible look that someone gets just as they give up and reach for the weapon that society has given them; the deadly instrument that exists everywhere at once, ambiently, primed and merely waiting for them to take it and point it against the unfortunatel; the silver bullet with her name on it, that Petra can chamber without effort; without weight.

    Lilian's face goes blank at the words. Not blank from shock, or fear, or guilt, or indecision. A horrible kind of blank where all expression has ceased because she has lost grip of any idea of why she'd need it; the blank that comes when the very concept of presentation, communication, emotion, understanding, has vapourized out from underneath the skin. Like looking at an equation. An object. A thing. A kind of blank that human faces aren't. Ever.

    Distress is absent entirely. Blind panic is skipped. Cold fury is passed over. The only thing that lives behind those eyes, in those scant few moment, cold in the way that boils the sweat from one's skin, like empty space, is a form of mu, of nothingness, formed solely of the incalculable, crushing weight of need. Need to realign the situation. To retake control. To bar any deviation. Any possibility other than the ordained. To control, subjugate, dominate, and be unquestionably above.
Lilian Rook                 -----[stop]-----
    Lilian utters to the void, sighed in lifeless tones, strained and husky, "Welcome back, Lilian. Have you woken up from your dream?"

    First, the gloves. Kale is finished, so Lilian takes her time, focusing her chain of causal influence and slipping it from his hands as if he were made of glass. The mended item is pulled up first, then its twin from within its purse, rigid and unruffled. No prints. No DNA. Old habit. Next, the knife from her bag; the combat issue Immunes blade that is equally suited, and more often used, for alchemy and runecraft. Stubbornly stained with the residue of the day's work, but wiped clean so it won't deposit anything. No proof.

    Lilian remains in her chair. The less resistance, the better. The knife floats down of its own accord, moving on conjured strings with the lightest touch of her finger. The back wedge is used to pry a nail from the floorboards, right through the hem of the skirt below her. Lilian memorizes its location. She'll step on it in real time. No discrepancies. Cold and premeditated. Next, the knife's razor tip curves under one of the main seams of the dress in front of her, and severs halfway through. Too small to be identified. It's hand-altered, so shoddy work can be expected. Then another, and another. Widepsread. Predictably spaced. Lilian reaches down to hover a fingertip over a shoulder, distortions of hereditary temporal magic causing the fabric to age and fray and brittle. A hypothetically invasive examiner would notice gross cutting. The magical energy dissipates in the pause Lilian leaves, returning to ambient background that her own profile eclipses. She has the exact length of time memorized. She counts the seconds thoughtlessly in her head. She learned to do that, without a watch to read.

    The knife gracefully glides back into its sheath. The gloves are peeled off one by one, returned to their places with a few imperious flicks of the wrist. Lilian reclines. One more glance to the nail. Measure twice, cut once.

                -----[start]-----

    "Excellent work, Soroka. I like you better this way. Perhaps you should seek new employment?" says Lilian, as Petra triumphantly readies the cloth. Her utter lack of emotional register is jarring. Enough to not notice her foot shifting, though she masks it as part of a subtle adjustment of full body posture; the kind one does simply to get comfortable. Her resting shoe presses down on the nail. Petra leans forward. Her sabotaged outfit will take no more.

    There'll just be a quiet, mundane, fraying susuruss of badly tailored cloth snapping many individual threads at once, and it'll tear apart from the hem up, and burst at the waist. Shoulder strap, waist fasten, front buttons, all of it from a single point of tension. Believable, if one considers Petra to have made a grievous error in closing off her work. Or at least believable enough in court.

    But. There isn't a single part that Lilian spared. Not a single corner she cut. When it breaks, there is no hope of simply clutching it back and stitching it shut again. She aimed for scrap. Less useful than a towel.

    Sharp and piercing in Petra's mind, a ray of light, colourless and cold, a prickling wave that tastes of metal and smells of blood, sweeps over her, and imparts the soundless words: §All you had to do was keep your head down, take your lumps, and wait one more minute. You could have chosen anything else. But you chose this depraved humiliation play, voluntarily, and subjected me to watching it. You don't have the right to drag me into this. You don't have the right to fight back. And you're a fool for thinking that I held back against you because of some limit. I'm done thinking of your own good, Petra. I'm just going to keep hurting you more and more until you break.§

    "Oh my! A snag! Oh dear, what a malfunction. Cameras, cut please! Let's put this on pause!" Lilian's feigned concern is immaculate.
Kale Hearthward The gloves are placed in front of Lilian, as Kale had planned.

... And now Lilian is... well, Kale can't read into how she is, really. But she's really focused on Petra, and not Kale's craftwork, which is... bad? Good? Maybe Petra messed up so badly that Lilian has to focus on her to the exclusion of everything else.

And then Petra's clothes fall apart.

Kale brings one hand up to his beak. "Wha-"

"- oh, dear. Mistress Sor- I mean, Petra. You, um,"

He runs back towards the model rooms they were working in for the cleaning round, goes to vault over the waist-high walls as if he were in a third person shooter, and then returns with one of the bedsheets - which he simply throws over top of Petra without ceremony, covering her entirely as if she was wearing a last minute halloween costume.

"I am terribly sorry that you had to see that, Misstress Rook, Masters Emiya and Candelario." He bows. "By your leave, I'll escort Petra backstage till she can... get her wardrobe malfunctions under control for long enough to finish the competition. However long that may take."
Ophrys     Video feed from the WASPs cuts suddenly. Ophrys pauses whatever she was doing, surprise crossing her face. The culprit speaks up quickly enough and in response the woman closes her eyes, "Oh, no, I'm afraid I don't answer to you."

    The shutdown attempt on the WASPs is immediately countered with that same multiphase attack algorithm from before, now seeking to eject DRYCLEAN's command signal entirely from their system. Lifting up her wrist, she checks the inside and projects her screen again, "It's really nothing. If someone gets murdered on stream, we'll just air it in a later timeslot. But for now I'm going to have to ask you to remove yourself from my equipment-- before things get altogether more drastic."

    She glances up from her screen, towards DRYCLEAN's monitors, "Honestly if someone dies this footage might be worth even more." Commotion on-stage draws her attention off of the synth with a curious, "Hmm?"

    The competition between herself and DRYCLEAN meant that, for several critical seconds, nothing was being recorded. And she was herself distracted. And now-- finds one of the competitors under a bedsheet.

    "...Did I miss something?"
Petra Soroka     There's a bated breath after the words leave Petra's mouth, when Lilian is silent. Anticipationguiltpridedisgusthungerhorror. The dead air between the retort of gunfire and the devastation of its impact.

    It doesn't come. Petra's expression flickers, from the blankly veiled cruelty to something close to hurt. Twitching, confused, a bug caught under a glass. The tempo is gone, the bullet pinged off of an impenetrable shield, and Petra has rapidly lost her tolerance for staying here with Lilian's heels.

    She stands up, and screams. She doesn't squeal, or squeak, but fully throated screams, her voice rasping into nothingness within seconds. Petra collapses to the ground, clutching at the disintegrating scraps, but she's interrupted by a ragged, painful coughing fit, hands torn from the task to hold her chest. When it touches bare skin, she shudders and curls up, glaring at Lilian from the ground.

    Her voice is hoarse and her lips stained red, impossibly brightly colored splatters of blood across her fist. "*This?!* You *fucking* psychopath! Of all the fucking--"

    If someone is looking intently enough to judge her current ensemble as they did her previous clothes, the results would be utterly unremarkable, not anything she expected to be seen today. An unflattering nude colored bra, childishly strawberry-patterned panties, covering the completely average body of a normal girl. Still, though, she shivers and clutches at her skin as if she's being burnt under the light, and scuttles under the judge table to get out of view.

    Shouting out from beneath it, Petra continues, responding aloud to words no one else heard--the way humans are meant to--"None of this was my fault! I didn't fucking start this thing, I didn't drag you into it, and *you* turned what could've just been an unimportant creep's unimportant challenge into a demented, sadistic power play for you to get off on! I'm fucking *tired* of people like you always attacking me however you want, and making me the villain when I fight back."

    Petra coughs, and derisively spits blood onto Lilian's foot. "It doesn't matter anymore. So do it. I know you're dying to, you sick freak."

    Petra grabs the bedsheet out of the air as Kale throws it, pulling it close to herself in fear of Lilian taking that too. She crawls out from under the table, covering herself as completely as possible, and walks to the exit, trembling. As she passes by Kale, she says loud enough for everyone to hear, "And I won, you know. By a landslide. So not only did you lose to me, but for the entirety of your own pathetic competition, you were completely *irrelevant*. Not a single person was rooting for you, just against me."

    Petra limps away, and sourly says to herself, "Please excuse my early departure, Masters and Mistresses."
Ishirou Ishirou finishes his work, noting that there was a very strong signal blocker that both helped him but also made the second part a little harder...thankfully he completed his work fast.  His eyes didn't leave the stage.  This entire thing was a powder keg waiting to go off.  What happens next is...

The only thing he can see is the dress exploding, Petra going for some cover, and Kale covering her.  This was awful...but on reflecting he wonders if it was worse than what Petra was doing to her.  He...really decides that it doesn't matter...pain is pain and inflicting it on the other isn't good for anyone.  

Instinctively, he puts a hand on Hibiki's shoulder.  He doesn't say anything, but...just offers her some comfort.  Or perhaps trying to hide the fact he is needing some too by offering it to her.  What should he do..?  Should he...

Ugh, this sucks...

He stands up and walks towards the stage towards Lilian.  Despite everything that has happened, he just walks to her and attempts to give her a hug.
DRYCLEAN-SIGINT DRYCLEAN gives something of a theatrical shrug - the time-honored symbol of 'well what can you do'. "Well, you're right. I ain't in charge of anyone, 'specially not you, but hey, worth a shot. I'll get outta your hair, ha ha." With that, the stranglehold on the WASPs is almost instantly released - almost. In that fraction of a second, a quick subroutine is run - benign, usually, but with a bit lower-level access than most have. A debug mode is initiated -

    - and a shrill motherboard beep emanates from both drones.

With that, all intrusion ceases. Control is entirely hers once again; they aren't even attempting to listen through the WASPs anymore. But the damage has been done - and that audio visualizer grin on their primary monitor says enough about their thoughts on that.

"Didn't miss nothin' of import. I doubt it'll matter much t'the broadcast, ha ha. You know how it is, with the editors. Sometimes th'raw footage goes unappreciated." They didn't react, directly, to Petra's embarassment, but it blatantly didn't escape their attention. Apparently they want Ophrys to know that.

Smug bastard.

The blackout, though, remains in effect. White noise, whisper-loud, cascades through every device in the building. It's soothing, in a way, so long as its meaning is lost upon the listener. A bubble unto their own; embarassment and natural forced polite demeanor. The commotion all blends together, harmony and dissonance -

    - and it is oh so beautiful.



They're gone, the next time someone looks over at where they were. But that static doesn't clear until the event is long over.
Kale Hearthward > "Not a single person was rooting for you, just against me."

Kale's quiet and still as she leaves.

"I don't know..."

"... Should I not care? About what she said, back in the clothing store? I mean, that's why I'm here. That's why we're all here, I guess. I cared, at least a little, about what she said."

"I assumed other people cared." He pauses. "I at least thought *she* cared. About what she said."

"..."

He sags.

"... If you'll excuse me as well..." he says, turning to he judges. "I think... we're done here."
Hibiki Tachibana     Anything can happen. Hibiki isn't even sure what, or if she should try to stop that nebulous 'it'. Could she even stop it, whatever it is, with Lilian having the power that she does? Would she be able to live with herself for not trying anyway? ...Or would she be living with the regret of jumping in and doing something she couldn't take back, either?

    And then all at once, a single, suspiciously well-placed nail entirely shreds apart Petra's finely tailored dress.

    The pair both really can't help but watch it happen, Miku unable to hold back a surprised gasp and an upwards jolt in her seat from the sudden debacle, and then again when Petra begins going off. Hibiki only has her eyebrows drift higher, eyes widening that much more. While any other time she might be embarrassed to see Petra uncovered like this and quickly turn her head away, not this time.

    Not when she's biting back to Lilian, not when she returns the spit from before, not when Kale quickly saves the day just to get bitten back at, and not even when Petra begins leaving. It's like her mind is lagging and struggling to catch up. Or maybe she's still having some sort of internal struggle. Some part of her definitely knows how Ishirou has to be affected by all of this, but it's hard to tell if she's even registering his supportive hand.

    Only when Petra has actually made her exit, only after Ishirou has also moved ahead for Lilian's sake, does Hibiki wordlessly push herself out of her chair. It's done almost too calmly, despite some shaking still wracking her body, though that calm only lasts as long as it takes to make it to the stairs separating the layers of seating, which she can sprint up with her head down. It looks like she's going to be another case of dashing right out of the venue, from a different exit.

    Until she takes a hard turn at the top layer towards the nearest trash can, grabbing onto its sides and doubling over. It's at least far enough back that the sounds of retching and dry heaving don't echo all the way down to the stage.
Ophrys     "Forgive me if I don't take your word for that," Ophrys comments towards DRYCLEAN, "Though I hardly have any say in the matter either way, ahaha~." She glances in their direction as she says that, catching the smug 'expression'. There's a brief little huff, eyes closing, "But did you have to make so much work for me?"

    There's no answer. When she opens her eyes again, DRYCLEAN has already made their escape. The woman sighs, shaking her head, "Of course they did. It's all part of the joke."

    She draws up her wrist again, issuing a Return command and then dismissing the screen. Her little drones, having reset back to factory default, circle aimlessly for a bit until they've oriented and then return to her. She clips her clutch closed once the WASPs are safely inside, then click-clacks her way back to her seat with measured steps.

    Unexpected and unpredictable behaviors. High grade electronics warfare kit. Relatively benign, not an attacker. Information control... Despite not being an obvious combat chassis, Knight feels appropriate.

    She takes her seat, evidently intent on waiting until most of the venue's visitors have left the premises before leaving herself..

    I'll have to see more of what the rest can do before classifying further.
Nephra Tangent     Nephra goes slack-jawed. The blood in the water fizzled into something entirely different, and intagibly more malicious, and yet entirely impossible to predict, let alone brace to watch. She doesn't even notice when her blowpop falls from the balcony to shatter on the ground below. But that's it. The show's over- even if not in full officiality, the finale's been played out. As she finishes reeling from watching Petra's embarrassment and subsequent tirade, Nephra can't help but break out into laughter. There weren't any jokes, nobody down below seems happy, and nothing good came of this, and that's why it's unbearably funny, in a muddy, guilty way.

    She doesn't bother to stay and watch any longer before turning on her heels towards the audience exits, tears wiped away from her eye with the side of a trembling hand. Nephra'll feel bad about enjoying this someday, probably, maybe, maybe not, but for now she gets to be a stranger. She stuffs the cheesy foam hand in the closest trash bin -ignoring that it was the selfsame one Hibiki was using-, its ridiculous and meaningless dedication having been proven true, and carries naught but heavy bootfalls with her as she vanishes.