Scene #8316: Common Reactor

Owner	Pose
Metaphor	Things have been tense, lately, according to internal reports and radio chatter. All sorts of cataclysmic problems affecting all sorts of people, with no simple, three-step solutions in sight. To an overworked, under-adjusted middle-aged woman, this, of course, has one useful temporary remedy: Drinking. Of course. For other people, though. She's here for the chatter. Transport has been offered (in a roundabout way) to those who don't have their own methods of making their way out to... the middle of an Ethiopian desert, apparently. The Danakil Depression, to be exact: allegedly one of the most inhospitable regions on Earth (prime, at least). A flat landing area has been chosen next to a particuarily exciting sulfur spring; acid pools in yellows and greens cut through scorched red rock, nestled amidst tall, volcanic rock formations. The air is choking, both from the immense heat and the small amount of toxic fumes hanging over the region. The sun, in the first stages of setting, casts the sky ablaze through the slight haze. It's pretty! It is also categorically awful, stepping outside the climate-controlled starship; though an offer has been made for anyone to feel free to take a spare hardsuit. Of course, this is not intended to be much of an outdoor event. The IMV No Practical Applications is a hell of a vessel; about the size of a house, somewhat conical, and with all the bearing of an apartment block that has needed renovations for two decades. The main bay leads through a small lobby filled with triage equipment into a surprisingly cozy barroom; all wood-flooring and warm lighting. A jukebox plays an unrecognizable but upbeat tune in the corner, humming away between shelves of half-finished engineering projects and happy-looking potted plants. Almost like an afterthought, a secondary table with two chairs has been pushed up against one of the walls. For some reason, nearly all of the seating at the glass-topped bar is provided by a couch pushed up to it, well-worn but well maintained. It's a little weird. ... Once the ship touches down, Metaphor moves to man that very bar, poring through an almost unreasonable number of cabinets, full of strange bottles of spirits and colorful beakers. Keeping her hands busy. The first person to approach has a mixed drink of some sort thrust in front of them - layers of warm-hued fluids make a sunset-like gradient within a beaker; a little wooden umbrella is stuck in. Smells bitter.
Kale Hearthward	Kale makes his own way, via his ship the East Wind. It touches down a bit after the No Practical Applications does. He makes his way in at first quickly, and then very very quickly, getting back inside the climate control, followed by precisely one half of his two person crew. "Hey! What's on tap - that? Yeah, sure!" The literally mousey medic hops onto the stool, grabs the sunset drink (or whatever else is offered), and gets to work. "What even is in - nevermind," says Kale, who approaches the bar as well. "Got anything cold and light? I gotta cool down after going through all that out there." He was outside for about five seconds, at most. "Nice ship. Nice jukebox. Bit cluttered, though, isn't it?"
Ishirou	Ishirou didn't need transport! Breaking through the air rips the RESCUE Unit, configured into its aerial mode, and soars through the sky towards The IMV No Practical Applications. Near the ship the exosuit changes configurations, switching into a more humanoid mode, but floating there waiting for clearance to land. Once inside, the center of it opens up and releases Ishirou in the base armor form of what constitutes the RESCUE unit, more or less where it connects to him. There is a flash, before POD and he separates, and the armor is gone. Now standing there is Ishirou in the fancy duds that Metaphor had put together for him in the event. Seems right to come to her event with the clothes she picked. Also, they looked cool. Eventually, Ishirou will make his way to the bar, only to be handed whatever drink is shoved into his hands. "Hello to you too, Metaphor.." he says, with a half smile. It's clear he's not healed from the event, but doing better than he initially was.
Dragonfly	Prior to the current moment, Dragonfly had been pacing across the No Practical Applications, staring out any of its given windows for a few moments before moving on to the next. Ostensibly to enjoy the view, but more clearly with anticipation of the guests. They've since moved on to sitting casually on top of the glass bar counter, playing something on their PDA that requires little enough attention that they can covertly keep most of their focus on the main entrance. This is where the guests should, ostensibly, be showing up from. The guests. Metaphor's new co-workers and some of the allegedly most powerful yet most volatile people in all realities. A group of people to which they have already established their role in life, and to which she has already angered. This casual gathering is Dragonfly's first and only chance at ensuring that their own nature does not endanger Metaphor, the No Practical Applications, and themselves to these people. Having guests over typically entails Metaphor reminding them to play nicely, yet in this particular case there is far more gravity. Dragonfly's fans rest at a somewhat higher RPM than they typically do, and as the first of the guests arrive, they run through the exact locations of all defensive measures hidden across the ship in their mind. Not a great idea- can't these people read minds?- and here they are. Make it or break it. Dragonfly falls back to their default, the old reliable. A bored-looking glance up from their PDA, a casual wave to Ishirou and Kale as they walk in. "Hey."
Reyes	A hovercycle races across the desert, kicking upo a dust cloud in its wake. Atop it is a figure dressed in... well. Hard, molded, light-medium armor plating over a loose but sealed suit of some fancy, flexible meta-material., The suit is painted tan, and it boasts the logo of the Paladins on one shoulder and (though, unlikely to be recognized) the Tomorrow Legion on the other. The figure's head is covered by a helmet with a shiny visor, extendable comms-antennae sprouting from the ears and heavy air filters covering the armored cheeks. This figure disembarks the hovercycle near the ship's ramp, strolls on up and in. He is armed with what might be two energy pistols and a cylindrical device that might be a beam saber of some kind, but all of such is properly holstered. The armored humanoid makes his way into the bar zone and, forgoing immediately greeting anyone, instead slowly walks around, examining the decor, pausing repeatedly by some of the shelved projects, staring at them through the opaque visor. Finally, he turns to face the bar and its owner. A young man's enthusiastic voice emerges through the muffling filters. "Oh man. A bar inside of a spaceship. How COOL is THAT?" Yeeeeeaah, he doesn't sound nearly as imposing as the armor might make him look.
Hibiki Tachibana	Nobody knows how important it is to have a place where you don't have to think about everything going on than Hibiki Tachibana. Her last attempt at something like this, only a day or two ago, had...roadbumps. There may or may not be more roadbumps today, given some of the present and soon-to-be company. That was gonna happen eventually anyway. But when Hibiki told Metaphor that she thought it'd be nice to have this outing, she did mean it. Nice is somewhat relative, of course, given that the venue is a sulfuric hellscape. But it /is/ extremely pretty, and a sight she'd otherwise probably never go to see on her own. That does a fairly solid job of keeping the mind busy, for sure. Especially when she has plenty of time to take in the view hoofing it, wearing her Symphogear as protection against the elements, all the way up to when she boards the No Practical Applications and de-transforms back into casual. "Hah...it's kinda nice to be somewhere cozy again, after walking through that..." Don't ask how long her trip was. She's good at walking. Metaphor and Dragonfly both get a wave of greeting as Hibiki moves up to the couch-bar, and if she notices anything off about the latter, it doesn't show. Rather, Kale and Ishirou look to be the ones she's actively making an effort to not make it obvious she's still working out how to act around right now, finding a seat all the way on one side. "...For some reason, I didn't figure you the drink-mixing type," she mentions offhand to their host for today.
Metaphor	KALE // ISHIROU The drink is very tropical, and not very strong. Pineapple, coconut... there's a bitter aftertaste, but it's best described as 'bracing'. The medic may, or may not, proceed to notice that any outstanding bruises they have clear up a few seconds after drinking it. The strange part, though, is how it tastes... one might describe it as 'filtered'. It tastes precise, for some reason. That's not offputting, though. Metaphor is already making another, lightning-fast, hands dancing across bottles like a particularily high-strung assembly line. She's surreptitiously gauging the reaction to its first consumer; at least, it would be somewhat stealthy if she didn't keep stealing blatant glances at their expression. The refill is completed and set on the bar, rapidly followed by a pretty green-and-brown drink in a martini glass handed to Kale. A grasshopper, apparently; hopefully he likes mint. Pineapple, coconut, rum - a pina colada is slid to Ishirou practically in time with his first word. A second is compiled, but set on a work surface behind the bar. For later. After everyone has something to hold for a bit, her flurry of activity finally halts. Mentally readjust. We're talking to people now. A belated nod is given to Kale, then Ishirou. "Hey there, you two. Glad you could, uh, make it." At Kale's inquiries, she reaches under the bar and pulls out a... pharmaceutical form? It's gently set in front of him - Centrifugal Sunset, 50u, active ingredients bicaridine, kelotane, tequila. Overdose is... that's a comically large number. Good for 'minor damages', allegedly; side effects dizziness and vomitting. Sure. As to the second, "-cluttered, yeah. It's... been a while since we last had people over. There's not much... space, really. For things." They think we're messy. It's obvious we just cleaned up an hour ago.
Ishirou	Ishirou takes a look at the ingredient list and takes a drink. He seems to think about it after a moment as he runs it over his tongue. He makes a face, "Good until that last part...a little bitter. Mmm...have you considered something cherry to sweeten the flavor?" he asks. "I mean, for me...I really don't like bitter things." He turns to face Dragonfly and smiles at her a bit more easily. "Hello!" he says, walking to her and greeting her properly. "I'm Ishirou...we did meet already on the radio, but nice to see you in person. Glad you decided to hang out after all!" Of course, his energy deflates with Biki entering. Not tremendously much, but enough that it's noticeable. He gives her a look but doesn't really say much else other than acknowledging her presence.
Kale Hearthward	Hibiki enters. Kale doesn't spare her more than a glance, but the medic turns her head and fixes her with... ... A glare? A stare? It's an odd look. And it lasts uncomfortably long before she returns to her drink. "Oh, this is good. It's... precise? I think I like it. Thanks!" She glances at the ingredient list. "Oh, that would explain it..." Kale, meanwhile, turns out to very much like mint. "I mean, it looks like you live in here, too?" he says. "Like, as a primary residence? You could get a berth in a Paladins' hangar and have quarters right next to your ship, if you're pressed for space to live on board. Might be a nice change of pace if you're used to tight quarters like this and need some more wing room." He shrugs. "I can't say I have much room to stand on that, though. Mine's got a dimensional compressor engine on it, we've got a lot of space."
Hibiki Tachibana	Hibiki is, unfortunately, attentive enough to Ishirou that she doesn't miss his body posture drooping, and her lips purse together as she lets out a quiet grunt and glances off to the side. "Yeah, fair enough," she mutters to herself under her breath. Said glancing away is how she manages to briefly lock eyes with the medic of the East Wind, thoughts of trying to break the ice with Ishirou momentarily pushed back as she raises an eyebrow with more than a little confusion. Only after she looks away does the magical girl shift her focus down to give herself a once-over. "...What, do I have something on me...?" She does not. She's not sure how she feels about having gotten fixed with a look like that, though.
Metaphor	HIBIKI // REYES // ISHIROU // KALE // DRAGONFLY Metaphor chuckles good-naturedly at Reyes' wonder. "It... I suppose I'm quite used to living in a... culture where this is common. I don't believe we've had the, uh, pleasure of meeting, though." A nod in his direction. "Chief Medical Officer Metaphor, at your... uh, service." She pauses for a second, hand halfway to some form of salute. "Uh. I suppose. We're all coworkers." Hand drops. That was far too formal. Metaphor shifts over to hand Hibiki a glass of... pineapple juice, apparently. Don't know drinking ages. It's cold, pleasant... tastes fresh, actually. A moment of somewhat visible analysis is taken when the magical girl takes up a seat away from everyone else; some attempt at judging the obvious tension between her, Ishirou, the medic. Should I have just done something separate? I fucked up the invitations already. I hope they'll be okay. She leans in towards her slightly, and in a tone low enough to be lost under the music for anyone possessing normal hearing, "Sorry if this is, uh, awkward. Let me know if you need anything." Blatantly conspiratorial. What if that makes things worse? It's going to make things worse. She pulls back, and back to standard tone, "Drink mixing is, uh, something I picked up from..." A pause, and a stare into the distance somehow more blank than her usual. A memory to dance around. "Someone I knew. It's... not too different of a skillset to rapid chemistry, so... it sort of clicked." She gives a sort of absent nod to Ishirou's suggestion, pushing the idea into the back of her head for further review. She rubs Dragonfly's shoulder once or twice while listening to Kale and his crewmate; grounding for one of us. "I... prefer to stay mobile. I haven't had a stationary residence in... God knows how long." She sheepishly rocks back and forth, once, before continuing, "...I don't, uh, like having a horizon, either. For too long." As Hibiki replies to the medic, she suddenly (and unsubtly) cuts in, "Ah, uh-! I don't think I caught your name, doctor...?" Forced. This is meddling, not diplomacy. She's already started anxiously running her hand across a red sash around her waist, an accent piece to the long black dress she's been wearing; specific points tapped, and a mounting tension at the lack of tools at each. Should have worn my cloak.
Lilian Rook	There were better things to do than come here. Tamamo, wisely, wanted her to stay home. But right now, Lilian needs to go out, same as always, somewhere. Staying home feels like letting her win. A social call is easy enough. Nothing can go stupidly wrong there. It's a coworker. A greeting call. She can leave that house, where he is, just like she said and come here a while until she's sufficiently bored or sufficiently drunk to go somewhere else. Lilian arrives 'fashionably late'. It is not at all because she spent ten minutes at the door, hesitating. Her first words through the door are "Why a stinking sulfur pit, of all places?", but she crosses the bar room to take a seat without further complaint. Maybe she might have, ordinarily, but right now, she somehow looks too . . . tired? To raise a lesser objection. Tired. It must be tired. It's too hard to pin that distant and listless expression otherwise. "Oh, so there was an open bar after all?" Bullshit. She knew. "If we're doing this here, then something very strong, please." Once she has her drink, she'll pick a spot aggressively close to Hibiki.
Kale Hearthward	"Oh! Not doctor, sorry. Hazelthistle. That's one word, please. Callsign East-2." "I've been in the Paladins for about... six months? Before that I was in Quicknest, then the Gale Engineering Corps. Nowadays I'm cleaning up after Boots here." Kale frowns at her briefly. "Thought we agreed we weren't going to use callsigns on land." "We're on a ship, Boots." She throws back her drink.
Dragonfly	So far, so good. Only the pretense of drama has started, and somehow, Dragonfly isn't in the center of it. Which is a win in her book, for now. It means it isn't her problem if something happens- unless that something gets too much collateral. And why worry about that, right? So she ignores it. Metaphor's touch calms her down just slightly, but it also reminds her- she's supposed to socialize, here. Not just tolerate, exist near without causing issues. Participate. For Metaphor's sake. Briefly, Dragonfly thinks of the mess that is what she knows of Ishirou's home, thinks of bringing it up, but shuts the thought down immediately. Not the time. Instead, she focuses on that main directive. Socialize. Find a smug comment to make, maintain casual airs, establish herself as being in her element. "Well. In these parts, it's barely a spaceship without a bar," she says, finally putting down her PDA, keeping her attention on the group that's gathered. "Feels like any ship without a bar ends up having someone go insane and build one in a single night. For whatever reason." Not even a lie. Not insulting anyone here. Should work just fine. Perfect small talk?
Ishirou	Ishirou sits back down after greeting Dragonfly. "I brought it, too, if you want to take a look at it later," He says to her before considering his drink and decides to continue to drink it despite the bitterness he doesn't like. It's rude not to, and it's not like talking about some things won't make matters taste just as bad. He does laugh at Kale's nickname. "Heh...boots." When Lilian gets there he gives her a small wave and notices her sitting close to Hibiki. Oh no.
Metaphor	LILIAN // KALE Lilian steps in. Second-long waveform halt. Of course open attendance means OPEN. Metaphor is statue-still until a seat is taken; she breaks from it, then, moving to put together a drink with even more haste than before; something clear, something dark. He said to give a chance. Come on, Metaphor. Into shaker, violent emulsion, pour into glass, tasteful stirring stick. Slid to Lilian wordlessly, like a physical representation of the ellipses so often punctuating her demeanor. A ( MEDIOCRE / QUITE DECENT ) black russian. She returns to the sash-fidgeting without further occupation, and in a tone edged by overcompensated confidence, "Because it's... an interesting backdrop. Quite pretty. I'd been thinking about it since Go mentioned the location." Hazelthistle receives another one of those somewhat distant nods; it's a real exercise in reading body language to tell if Metaphor is visually focusing on something, but it's pretty blatant that her current target is a point about a mile outside one of the windows. Her response sounds somewhat distracted. "Engineering corps. That sounds... quite useful, for rescue operations." A comment isn't made on the callsign thing, and a small shot glass of grenadine is set in front of Ishirou. Should have mixed them myself. God dammit.
Reyes	The armored man reaches up and fiddles with the underside and neck of the armor's helmet and soon there's the faintest hiss from its environmental regulation system shutting down. The helmet's hoisted off by both gloved hands and... yup, it's a young man under it. Perfectly ordinary-looking young man, of mixed heritage. Blue eyes. A darker-toned complexion. Thick, naturally curling, kinked, dense locks of hair cut rather short, and a close-trimmed beard and mustache that don't quite suit his apparent youth. "Specialist 2nd Class of the Tomorrow Legion and Paladin Chevalier, Reyes." He offers back with a quick and polite smile, though his eyes are awkwardly and excitedly all over the place still. Well, excited until he takes note of Ishirou's depressed stature. "Really? Well, you've got a leg up just from having working spaceships." A fact he rather admires, if his enthusiasm's any indication. The young man hooks his unused helmet to his armor's utility belt and closes in on the seats. He pauses briefly on approach as Lilian arrives and storms over in Hibiki's direction, drawing a few questioning blinks... But he's way more interested in Metaphor it seems, and closes in only to get a closer look at the depressed Ishirou. Another cast at Kale... both with considerable awkwardness. He's clearly unused to bar settings. He's jarred out of his thoughts, though, by getting a really good look at Dragonfly. A VERY solid, lengthy look. Or, more particular, her absolutely chaotic getup. Several times he opens his mouth as if to speak, then hurriedly shuts it, and instead beelines for the nearest seat to then stare awkwardly at the table. Nope. Casual social settings are not his thing. But he decided to come here anyways.
Hibiki Tachibana	Hibiki sits up a little straighter to take the pineapple juice, and after a moment of appraisal to se exactly what it is, her posture actually does loosen up a bit. "...Like chemistry, huh? Actually, that makes a whole lot of sense. Thanks, Metaphor." It's lacking somewhat in energy, but it is indeed genuine, right down to a small smile. She takes a sip, and her eyes go a bit wider - in the good kind of surprise, at the freshness. Another two--nope, three, are used as smokescreen to make it seem like she didn't notice Metaphor's bit of looking at her, nor the very blatant attempt at defusing the tension in the air by deflecting. She doesn't say it, but she's partially grateful for it. "...Quicknest..." She murmurs, on setting the glass down. A second one of those quiet sounds comes from her throat, but she keeps anything she's thinking to herself. Come to think of it, everyone else here is a member of the Paladins, aren't they? Including who just stepped in, who gets Hibiki momentarily locking up. All the way until she settles in next to her, a fact which isn't lost on her at all. Without glancing at Lilian, her mouth opens like she's trying to say something, although nothing comes out before she closes it again. Cupping her drink in both hands, she swivels it around a bit before closing her eyes and letting out a sigh. There is no one feeling on her face or in her voice, just 'complicated'. "...Hey, Lilian."
Lilian Rook	Waiting for her drink, Lilian only thinks to remark "Don't be so tense." at Metaphor, whilst staring off into the near distance. A thought turns oversluggishly in her mind, and then a thin, rueful smile twitches the corners of her lips. "I'll feel bad, you know. You got such an awful first impression, after all." When she gets her black Russian, she indicates bland acknowledgement of having gotten something she recognizes and is fine with, via nod of the head and a quiet "Thank you." and then moves off. "I suppose it is. Interesting, that is. But there's no end to all the interesting things out there. It feels like you may as well not pick one that's bad for you." That very ordinary statement out of the way, dropped like a brick of lead, and with about as much subtext, Lilian responds to Dragonfly sort of blandly while taking her seat. "Seagoing ships have bars and more. I'd at least hope a space vessel would." she says. "I'd probably go insane being trillions of miles from the nearest bar too." Lilian has never been a habitual drinker, but the words are meant as a peace offering more than anything else; a flash of performed empathy for countless ship hands she couldn't really care less about. "Tachibana." There's a long pause, to drink a lot more of her black Russian at once than she really should. Lilian knows full well it won't hit that fast, but it's a bracing promise in of itself. "I'm glad to see that you're still . . . holding up." She decides tactically. "I know it has to be rough on your side of the fence too. You, especially, have a bad habit of seeing people as they could be, instead of how they are." Another, more measured sip. "Are you . . . alright?"
Ishirou	The glass of grenadine is set in front of him. "Oh what's this..?" he asks but takes a sip of it anyway. He pauses, it's definitely sweeter, but it just tastes like pomegranate? Wait was it just...red drink? Did he get got? '...have a bad habit of seeing people as they could be, instead of how they are.' He goes quiet at that for a moment. "Yeah...funny how losing a lot, and almost losing more drives that out of a person. Having your past brought up and your face shoved into it.." "Must be nice to be able to ignore that," he says to nobody directly, but...well we all know who it's aimed at.
Dragonfly	At Reyes's gawking, Dragonfly's face briefly changes from its usual affect of disinterest into a knowing smirk. She's seen this look before, a lot. It's the look of someone with a mundane education in machinery finally taking in the Dragonflight. How it looks. How it functions. How comfortable she looks in it, in spite of everything. She almost lives for that look- if everything else didn't make it worth it, then this absolutely would. But she's seen the look enough that all she really feels like giving in response to it is making sure Reyes sees that smirk. She can't think of how to respond to Lilian. Might be too scared too. There's clearly a lot going on here. Return to something you have control over. Wait for someone else to carry that one. Right. Attention turns to Ishirou. "Brought what. Oh, your... it was an exosuit, wasn't it," she says flatly. "Could take a look at it later, I guess." She slightly adjusts how she's sitting on the glass countertop, as if to drive home how relaxed she is sitting there. That part's just a bit genuine, though.
Metaphor	LILIAN // ISHIROU "Don't be so tense." Metaphor promptly tenses more. Nice going, me. The comments break her spacing-out, though, and she turns back to the cabinets to do... something. Anything, really. Hands need occupying. As she talks, she just keeps mixing arbitrary drinks, setting them on the counter next to her in a colorful menagerie. Clink, stir, pour. Most of them involve tropical ingredients. None of them have a place to be. Don't be so tense. A half-calculated response. "I... suppose I was expecting more people to come... with. Not arriving from outside." Why did I expect that? Of course Elites would arrive in style. Not stupid carpooling. "Hopefully it means the... drinks taste better. After the heat. I suppose." Feeble attempt at humor. Does she even do humor? She whirls to face Ishirou as he just takes a sip from the glass, moving to put a hand out - "Oh, that's to mix-" - but stopping as he makes that comment. A lot of things run through her head, then, as she stands in a sort of awkward position, but most of them reduce down to how she really fucked up with the invitations. The half-raised hand clenches, unclenches - is there even a way to intervene in this? - before she drops it back down and just sort of faces him. A wordless stare.
Dragonfly	Then Dragonfly finally processes what Ishirou's said. What's been said to him. Metaphor's reaction. This is where it all ends, here and now. She's certain of it. Nothing changes about her face- except for a brief flicker of the screen- though her fans speed up noticeably. She crosses her arms in a way that shoves her sweatered elbows over them, muffling the sound.
Reyes	Despite his apparent lack of any suave at the current situation, Reyes does seem to have slightly picked up on Metaphor's predicament as he raises his head in response to her rambling. After a few blinks, he shows a rueful smile of utter sympathy. It almost says, 'dont give up!'
Hibiki Tachibana	There's a softer exhale - decidedly not a sigh - when Lilian asks that, followed by Hibiki's eyes opening back up to look down into her drink. "I should be the one asking you that, shouldn't I? I know it hasn't been easy on you at all, either." For the second time this week, she's making one of those smiles-that-aren't-really-smiles, more awkward than anything else. Her head turns just enough to glance towards Ishirou, and for a moment, when he says that, she can't resist the urge to shift back away. The way her fingers tense up against the glass she's holding is entirely obvious, as is the same in her face, and she has to muster up some willpower to continue on towards Lilian and not that. "...I'm okay. Totally okay." The fact she doesn't make eye contact probably says enough. There's more than a little guilt towards Metaphor that things ended up like this, but it's hard to tell her that it's not her fault right now. "I guess it probably will get...worse before it gets any better. I've made peace with that." As much as she can. Sort of. Kind of. Her eyes close again. "...Sorry. I'm not trying to bring the mood down." She's also trying not to look at Ishirou.
Kale Hearthward	> "Engineering corps. That sounds... quite useful, for rescue operations." "Well, armament development, not rescue. But when you're dealing with developing person-powered magitech, you're nearly qualified to be a medic already. I just had to take a course and brush up on some things." "I'm glad I got the opportunity here I did, in any case. After the Watch stole the prototype we were field-testing and then chased us out by threatening to blow up the town with a nuclear bomb, our careers were on the fact track towards nowhwere." She smiles. "That's all in the past, though. I can't imagine someone might bear a grudge over all of that." > "Heh...boots." "You don't get to use it," says Kale to Ishirou. "Just wait till you end up getting assigned some stupid callsign. Like..." ... Dang it. This was easier back before he changed his name. 'Eyesore' would have been perfect. "... Hackerman."
Reyes	Hearing Kale's words, there is almost instantly a THUNK from nearby. Because Reyes has quite literally facetabled at the use of that word, for some reason or another.
Ishirou	Ishirou blinks confused at Metaphor, first because of the warning of the drink, and then the stare. It goes on way too long, and he gets nervous about it and then turns away, claming up. He doesn't say anything else, instead just pushing the drink aback and looking outside instead. He gives Kale a sideways glance, "Hackerman it is then," he says dully. Turning back to staring out at the window.
Metaphor	ISHIROU // KALE As soon as Ishirou gets visibly unsettled, Metaphor also turns away, a little too fast. Confirmed elimination of target's mood. Right. Smooth moves, doctor. Hibiki is awkward as well. The same bitter thoughts on the qualifications of this party's organizer continue to repeat like a skipping drive, tension and anxiety following a continuous function, lim x->inf f(x) = inf. She pulls away to the back of the area behind the bar, pulling an orange out of a high-tech wall fridge and putting it in a food processor of some sort. It takes a few tries to get the door open properly, though they happen fast enough to be barely noticable. The appliance's grinding masks a similar sound coming from her chest, save that one continues ever-so quietly after the orange is thoroughly annihilated. Disk spins; drivehead groans. Keep conversation flowing. It's your one damn job. Don't fuck this up further. The container is pulled out of the appliance; set next to the rest of the crowded drinks. Grinding lost under the sound of fingers arrhythmically drummed against glass. Conversation topics flash through her mind, but all are discarded for various reasons. Insensitive to gloss over. Obvious attempt to steer away from a topic. Fix it. The comment about Hackerman causes her to quietly vocalize a sound halfway between a surprised laugh and a choke. Right. Seize on that. Her voice starts strained, but corrects as she speaks. "Hackerman? Like the... the cartoon character. The, uh." Her train of thought runs out; crash and burn. Five dead at the station. "Did you have those- those shows as well?" There isn't any actual indication given to what the hell she's talking about. Fingers on glass.
Lilian Rook	Lilian considers Metaphor's awkward icebreaker during Hibiki's silence. The ice clinks against the sides of her glass where she holds it by the rim and swirls it around as close to spilling over the top as she can. Her precision is eerie. "Yes. I suppose they do." she says. "They'd taste even better if you at least pretended not to stare at me like a rabid animal, though. It's a bit uncomfortable. Isn't this supposed to be a social call? If there's something you want to talk about, I don't mind. The purpose of this is to get to know one another after all." A helpless little sigh, poring over the few options she has. "All I know about you is that you have excellent fashion sense." Hibiki comes back to her shortly. The first words out of her mouth make the trying smile fade out of Lilian's eyes even if it stubbornly lingers on her lips; out of perfect rehearsal in countless classrooms and dance halls, no doubt. "Should you? I'm your senior, aren't I? You don't typically ask that of the stronger and more experienced one, you know; it's my role to ask that of you." Lilian takes a deep breath, and another drink. "But if you must know . . ." "No. Not particularly. But I can handle it. That's how it's been for a long, long time, and I suppose that's probably how it'll always be." Lilian swallows hard. "The last year was . . . nice, though." Her voice cracks just a hair. Her eyes fall down into the black pool at the bottom of her glass. "It really was, Tachibana." Lilian squeezes her eyes shut, when Hibiki lies for her sake. It's like bracing for a needle. A sting that she knows is for her own good, but hurts anyways. She holds her breath, to the limit of her tolerance, counting the seconds, and then finally reaches out and lays her hand on top of Hibiki's, squeezing and tugging it just enough to draw her attention sideways. Some of her usual colour returns to her voice. Smoky, sharp-edged and accented. "It'll get worse, I'm certain. I won't lie to you about that, Tachibana. But I made a promise already. No matter how much worse it gets, no matter what happens, it won't go back to 'that' again. It'll never be that bad. I won't let it. So just try your best. And if it gets too much, it's okay to step back. I wont--" Lilian's volume drops, even as the intensity behind her voice redoubles. Her fingers briefly squeeze hard enough around Hibiki's hand to hurt. "I won't let her drag me back there. I won't be that again; not for her or anyone else. Okay?"
Dragonfly	Ah. That isn't what was happening at all. Crisis averted before it started- Metaphor is still here, none of this was meant a hint to her about her choice of company, and she doesn't seem to be taking it as one regardless. "Seeing people as who they could be and not who they are". Not like they know about any of that, anyways. Dragonfly's fans slow down to the speed they've been idling at, she moves her arms back off of her vents, and her screen flickers very slightly once more. Its displayed face had been motionless since the last flicker, but it's returned to being as animated as it usually is once more. Refocus on objectives. Metaphor is clearly hurting here, regardless of what is actually happening. Hackerman conversation. Right. "Hackerman. God. I really hope they didn't have that show. The way it showed hacking..." She snorts. "Like it's some kind of art and not staring lifelessly at a computer. I don't think even the target audience bought that."
Ishirou	Ishirou doesn't wither anymore, but the thoughts are there again and he doesn't like the feeling he's feeling. Even if he hears Lilian make that declaration...it's still worrying to him. There is also the fact that INDUS is... He's snapped out of his spiral by talks of hackerman. "What, you don't think it's an art form...it very much is! Some of us don't hide behind screens to do our hacking."
Hibiki Tachibana	Hibiki already knew very well that Lilian was not okay. She was braced to hear either a deflection, not that she'd expect her to try and sugarcoat it at all, or the truth. She got the truth. What she wasn't prepared for was the crack in her voice, and the words that come with it that makes her give a dry swallow despite her drink, and the grip on her glass go white-knuckle tight all over again for very different reasons. Just to loosen up again as she blinks in surprise, then looks down at the hand over top of hers. It stays there only for a second before she properly glances up towards Lilian, jaw slightly slack as she listens. It only picks itself back up when the other girl's hold grows tight - and after that momentary squeeze, she eases away. But only so she can turn her palm over to clasp back, firmly but not painfully, as her eyes shut once more. "...Yeah. I know you won't." Hibiki's tone has gone a little husky, but there's some surety behind it all the same. "And I know you don't go back on your promises." When she forces herself to make eye contact with the other girl again, it's with the smallest of smiles, regardless of all the tension that's been in the air. "I don't think I can make myself step back either way, though. I'm way more worried about what'd happen if I did than about me. ...I'm really sorry for everything." "...And I'm sure I'll have more to say sorry for before it's all over and done. But...I'll keep doing my best. That's my promise."
Metaphor	LILIAN At least the aggression isn't passive. Comment about the staring halts the tapping on the container to just a grip; comment about discomfort increases the pressure. A tiny crack forms up the side of the beaker of orange juice amidst inane conversation; solidarity with its bearer, perhaps. It isn't leaking yet; the glass is good-quality. She desperately attempts to not eavesdrop on a very serious ongoing conversation. Don't bring up what you want to talk about. Things will fall apart. Don't explode. You did this to help people not think about Petra. Stay polite. Coworkers. Don't explode. Don't explode. Don't ex- - * Well, it wasn't her who exploded. Yet. The orange juice running down her arm, though, seems keenly aware of this fact, and intends to change it as quickly as possible. Metaphor just stands stock-still and stares at the slow drip from her fingers onto the shards of glass now covering the workspace and some of the floor. Water evaporates out; sugars begin to congeal; but she continues to just burn a hole the back of her hand. A poorly-timed gap in the music coincides. In this moment, she is the calmest she's been in days. Her head slowly swivels around to look at Lilian. Her voice is remarkably even, all things considered, as she just rattles off a series of inane statements. "Apologies. I can't exactly do anything other than stare, and you all scare me shitless. Are you a wizard? I at least appreciate the direct acknowledgement of my failures. Better than the passive aggression." She straightens a little, arm still extended, as something click-whirrs within it; and like a bad powerpoint transition, the orange juice simply sluices off into a gap in the plating, leaving her perfectly clean and smelling strongly of disinfectant. She returns to ( STARING AT / STARING THROUGH ) the back of her hand, like a window into something she's far more at home in than her surroundings. A beat. Everything, then, suddenly crashes onto her. What the fuck did I just say? Everyone's staring. Everyone things I'm a fucking lunatic. This is unsanitary. She'll probably just kill me. I ruined a moment. A visible shudder runs all the way through her body. Nobody will forget that you caused this scene. And with a ridiculously awkward snap of the fingers, she shakily follows up, "I've- well, I've gotta clean this. Right. Pardon me." A swift exit stage left to a room, glimpsed through the internal airlock, to be fiercely sterile. Nice party, dipshit.
Reyes	Thhaaaaaaaaat exchange gets Reyes raising his head, a look of faint horror stretching across his face. He can clearly feel the change in atmosphere from words like those. A nervous shiver runs through him and-- And in no time at all, he unhooks his helmet from his belt and fits it back on his head again, engaging the seal. Like he senses trouble on the horizon. "... what did -I- do to scare her...?" He murmurs, nearly inaudible.
Dragonfly	"Hiding behind a screen? How else are you going to hack-" A derisive statement (far too derisive, should have cut down, fuck fuck fuck) is interrupted explosively. Dragonfly stares at Metaphor and then the rest of the room, too initially stunned to react properly. It's as Metaphor leaves that she snaps out of that fugue, cutting in an instant from a casual lounge on the counter directly into bounding across the bar, managing to follow Metaphor into the room she left for just in time for the airlock to automatically close behind the both of them. The way she lept off of the glass countertop, it really should have broken from the force, and you think she touches the ground maybe once the entire way there. In that room, Dragonfly does nothing but cling to Metaphor wordlessly. But she's also listening very intentfully through the door for... anything. Yelling, explosions. She positions herself between the door and Metaphor.
Reyes	Reyes's visor is aimed at the door behind the countertop. He is almost entirely motionless. Watching over the door, maybe? In case anyone else follows? Young man seemed nerveshot. Standing up to enemies takes courage. Possibly needing to stand up to allies, demands even more.
Ishirou	Ishirou goes to answer Dragonfly...but the glass shattering causes him to pause and look at Metaphor. He starts to ask if she needs help but then is cut off by her words to Lilian. He pauses, wincing because...this has gone rather poorly...maybe he should have declined the invitation. He lets out a breath and aims a hand at the ground. Glass from the ground will start to hover up, as he takes the largest part to sit on the bar, while the other smaller pieces arrange themselves inside the larger piece. At this point, POD has fetched a towel or napkin, something dry, and is helping clean up the spilled orange juice. "I can't, and won't, forgive her. There isn't anything in this multiverse that will move me on this. ...I've already put too many people in danger because I thought I was capable of doing more than I could. Putting people who would see my friends hurt or killed..." he pauses. Looking at the glass instead of anyone else who is here. "She's helped take my home...nearly hurt people I consider family...ruined the lives of thousands of people..." he breathes. "And if you still think she deserves any kindness...then..." he pauses. He's not sure what to say. He just goes silent. It hurts. It hurts! Why does this have to be so difficult? He releases a breath, finally. "Then my faith in humanity really was flawed from the beginning."
Lilian Rook	'And I know you don't go back on your promises.' Lilian sighs something that sounds almost like a laugh. A powerless exhale of air that rises up thin and nervously bubbly. "Well, I have an entire rule about it and everything." she says. "Otherwise, I could be compromised by crazy. You never know." A short, dry laugh. An obscure joke at her own expense. It dies out quickly. "Don't apologize, please. It was good to see you here. I'm sorry it's hitting you hard as well, even though I knew it inevitably would. You don't have to say sorry to me until I tell you to. I just regret that you had to get dragged into it." Lilian downs the rest of her black russian in one go. "Being sort of culpable once doesn't mean you have to come along for the ride with me forever. You said your sorries then, and you suffered enough. You don't have to keep feeling guilty, or responsible for me." Lilian's eyes snap upward at the sound of a glass cracking. "You're right." she says, to words Metaphor never spoke out loud. "You didn't host this to talk about that thing. I apologize for swerving the topic over in the corner here. I just had to check on my friend." She sighs again. It's supposed to sound put upon and weary. It only sounds a little angry and bitter. "Don't be that way. The Paladins at least are supposed to be the last people in the Multiverse you should be scared of, if you're a decent person. I know you came in at a bizarre, stressful time. I know you're missing context, and that's why you did something clever, like this. So let's just make this less scary." "I'm not trying to get on your case, I've just . . . I've had enough of being looked at like that, do you understand? Please?" Metaphor is leaving. Dragonfly with her. Lilian lets hang a few moments of deafening silence, and then says, "Ishirou. Can we talk about literally anything less disgusting? I'm getting another drink, and I expect you to have a deck of cards or a gamebrick or something when I'm done. Tachibana. You've been eighteen for a while. I'm getting you something for adults too. Why don't you tell me about Miku instead? Rita? Even that weird priest."
Hibiki Tachibana	In any other situation, Hibiki would be on top of vehemently denying guilt or feeling responsible, in that sort of way. She's already in the middle of one shake of the head, and then two, when she gets an extremely sudden reminder that the room consists of more than just her and Lilian. It actually makes her jolt in her chair, just to very tentatively settle as Metaphor plays things off to pull out of view, Dragonfly goes to follow her, and... That heavy sensation of the conversation being This is almost oppressive again, and it's not Lilian who she blames for it being such. It's more than clear she's not sure what to say to Ishirou after that, and maybe there's not anything she can. There's a tense silence from her, until Lilian makes an active effort to diffuse it. And Hibiki, though her heart isn't a hundred percent in it, can't let that go to waste. Then she'd /really/ be at fault for making the social gathering a mess. So she takes a deep breath, downs most of her glass of pineapple juice in one go, then exhales loudly. "...I can /try/ something, I guess. But don't tell Miku that I did. Okay? Okay." She'll have to apologize to Metaphor when she can. ...And find a good time to talk to Ishirou. But that can't be now.
Metaphor	LILIAN // DRAGONFLY Metaphor is back quite quickly. "I know you're missing context, and that's why you did something clever, like this. So let's just make this less scary." She fumbles through the fluorescent lighting of her lab; cabinets poked through in a flurry. She knows that the mop is up against the far wall with the safety shower; it's a more a provider of needed time, this scramble-and-inventory. Carbon. Napalm. A pumpkin with a radiation warning pressed into the skin. As she pulls ever-closer to the fabled cleaning implement, she squeezes Dragonfly tight with one arm, though does not halt the motions; one hand grabs and analyzes, another stroking a reassuring rhythm on a shoulderblade. Pentetic acid. Holy water. Space cleaner (pocketed). The motions rapidly lose frantic energy, and become ever-more deliberate as her self-imposed time limit rounds down. Miscommunication broke once. Here goes. "I'm not trying to get on your case, I've just . . . I've had enough of being looked at like that, do you understand? Please?" She releases Dragonfly. Hand on the mop; a steady second. "I'm going to go apologize. Okay? We'll be fine." A searching gaze into her eyes; a moment to impress that this will be executed regardless. "After all, I wrecked your first meeting with them." She pauses for a second, obviously thinking. A finger taps on a handle. "Can you open the... far door. To the lathe room." You're hogging attention. Fantastic impression. Let's just keep falling down these stairs. And she re-enters, mop in hand, cloak adorned.
Reyes	The moment of tension has passed. The armored figure of Reyes... visibly sighs in relief, shoulders sagging as they relax. He again removes the helmet and clips it to his waist. Which still leaves him staring awkwardly at the countertop, unsure how to initiate anything in a situation like this. He doesn't typically show up at bars. An unused glass on the countertop, vaguely within Reyes's line of sight, begins to slowly rise until it is six inches into the air. The glass catches the light should Metaphor gaze upon it. Lots of quick flicker-flashes. She might recognize the patterns.
Ishirou	Ishirou immediately gets routed by Lilian. He gives her a look, but...well, he can't argue with her right now given what's happened and his own feelings on the matter. He mutters and pulls out a game brick and just turns on the farming simulator. It's not very hard to know how he feels (bad). Though when Metaphor comes back, she'll notice the worse of the mess is cleaned up, POD holding a few wet napkins, and the glass gathered in a single spot on the counter. "...Hey. I cleaned up the glass and POD got the juice.." he says looking up at Metaphor before looking back down at his gamingbrick.
Dragonfly	"... Stay safe around these people. Please." This is all Dragonfly can really manage to say, because Metaphor cannot truly be stopped. She bounds off as quickly as before, this time to the aforementioned lathe room, opening the airlock and standing in the open doorway it leaves. Dragonfly leans against the doorway wall, staring at the guests. Almost a glare. Hard to tell, really. To Reyes, she says, "Don't use- please try to keep the. Magic. To a minimum. While you're here. Please." Clipped and harsh tone, at dissonance with the repeated cuts to politeness.
Metaphor	ISHIROU // DRAGONFLY Stride to the counter. A look down at the mop. A look at the mess that is not, in fact, relegated to the floor. A quick mental exchange wherein she wonders why the hell she had opted to grab a mop, of all things. She leans it against a wall and instead pulls out that bottle of spray-cleaner; a quick spritz, and the juice just... evaporates alongside the cleaner. It's a little unsettling. This precedes her giving a grateful nod to Ishirou, and then in one fluid motion grabbing the half-beaker of glass shards - - and sending it sailing, perfectly, over Dragonfly's head and directly into the Autolathe input hatch in the far room. She stands in the follow-through position for a second, just waiting for the telltale whirr of the machine activating. On cue. Maybe that was cool enough to distract people. That was immature. What the hell was that for? She relaxes, and fully turns to face the bar. A finger raised with the start of a sentence: "I-" She hesitates, and drops the arm. "...I'm sorry. About that. And everything." It's hard to explicitly tell which of the people present that was aimed at; it's easy, though, to hazard a guess that it's everyone. She awkwardly rubs the back of her neck, and just sort of stands there, in the middle of that space. "Uh." You look like a fucking moron. Do you expect them to think you just up-and-changed your expression that fast? Get a grip. She looks like she really, really wants to leave the room again; in fact, beginning to angle back towards the door she just came back through.
Ishirou	Ishirou reaches a hand out to touch the side of Metaphor's arm in a soft manner. He gives her a look, despite what pain he was in it looks...compassionate. "It's fine, we're fine. You didn't do anything wrong, and standing up for yourself isn't a crime. If anything she's probably more impressed with you." He watches the glass fly. "Oh wow...nice toss!" Ishirou smiles with a sense of 'wow that was cool'! Ishirou's dark cloud has passed, perhaps because of Lilian's comment. He does pause and looks at Hibiki. "Sorry. You didn't deserve that," he says after a minute. Strictly /not/ talking about Petra. The topic is dropped. He looks up over at Dragonfly. "So you wanted to know how I hacked without a computer?"
Lilian Rook	Lilian laughs uneasily for Hibiki. "Tachibana, I'm sorry, but I was never on such casual terms with your gal pal. It's not as if I have her contact information. What am I going to go and tattle on you for? I'd just stop you myself, if I really hated it." She gets up and starts to just help herself to a refill. She clearly has the expectation that if she's been invited to a ~social occasion~, she gets at least two drinks, guaranteed. Dragonfly's response catches her eye slightly before she gave it, though she just looks sort of cautiously curious. Vodka is taking the edge off. "Beg aprdon, but I never caught it before. Would you happen to have some sort of magic sensitivity? Is it dangerous to use here? Or is it . . . something you'd rather not talk about? That's fine too." Metaphor returns, and Lilian looks almost relieved to just see her mopping and cleaning up. Some of the tension bleeds out of her gaze, only to settle in her shoulders, when she sucks in a sharp breath for no apparent reason a few seconds later. Into her second drink, Lilian has the more obvious look of someone weighing up how to say something difficult --possibly offensive-- for a good little while, and then suddenly speaks up out of nowhere; a little loud, a little gaelic Irish and not English, still accented. "Come on. You don't have anything to apologize for. I just got done talking about this. You're so nervous it's scary. Do you beat yourself up like this all the time? You should be put off and miffed that a pack of moping losers are ruining your open bar, not . . . this."
Reyes	When Dragonfly suddenly accosts Reyes, he shudders and the floating glass dangerously wobbles. It settles down to the counter a moment later. Oh. So NOW someone notices I'm here. STill, he looks over his shoulder, eying Dragonfly in confused disbelief, like she's just walked out of the twilight zone. Or has antlers growing out of her monitor-head.
Metaphor	ISHIROU // LILIAN Metaphor startles at the touch, before practically deflating. Right. Set. Standing up for myself? A question echoes a thought, almost as quietly. "Standing up for myself? That was just an... attack. Unwarranted." She's stopped moving towards the door, with that. Lilian's hesitation, then comment, is like a one-two punch to the internal pressure that had been propelling her; she raises a hand again to make a comment. Stops. And then, almost so suddenly it's startling, she just breaks down into laughter. She's right, of course. He's right. This is so fucking stupid. Still with the tone of someone experiencing the funniest thing ever, "Moping losers is why I have this bar, Lilian. It's just so... normal. This is all so normal." She steadies herself on the now-clean countertop, before grabbing one of four identitical pina coladas off the counter where she had been preparing them and holding it up to her screen. There's not a motion made to pour it; just... held there, an inch away. She giggles, again. Her head tilts, and a second later she pulls out a bulky bright-green radio and mutters into it; a blatant response to something else. A beat. "So, uh. Does anyone... want another drink, I guess?" This shit is unreal. Why wouldn't we hate magic? God, I hope they still want to be around me. A thumb ran across the side of the glass; with more care, this time.
Dragonfly	Once the glass has sailed, Dragonfly returns to her seat with that same agility and grace as she left it, jumping over the couch to land on the glass countertop. Again, this somehow does not break it. The airlock she was standing in the path of automatically closes soon after she settles back down to casual lounging. Dragonfly sighs lightly. "Essentially... magic has never treated us well. Historically any magic on board this ship, or in our proximity in general, has never exactly... gone well. I would prefer things to be predictable here, and I assume Metaphor feels the same." A vague enough response. Can only hope nobody here can sense magics that they can't perform. Maybe a long shot. "Anyways." Redirect. Back to casual topics. Ones she can work with. "Hacking. I assume you either mean you do the kind where you mess with wires directly, or the kind where you, ah... have direct access. The latter of which is still a form of "using a screen", so to say. It's just a modified form of interfacing with the same elements... which is still far more of a science than an art."
Hibiki Tachibana	Metaphor's return - with an apology that's unnecessary, as far as she's concerned - gets Hibiki to de-tense a bit. She honestly still owes /her/ one of those later, but for now, the magical girl will just have to settle with a small smile that does its best to say that it's alright. It's maintained, a little shakily, when Ishirou gives a maybe more deserved 'sorry'. Only maybe. She almost wants to say 'I hope I don't', but what comes out is, "...It's okay. I get it. I'm sorry I, uh...yeah." She stops herself short, at risk of retreading the dropped conversation thread. Thankfully, any worries she might have over that are pushed to the wayside when she considers Lilian's reassurances. "I guess that's true. We should probably work on that sometime." Beat. "...When it's quieter again. Like the last year." The belief that things will go back to that is definitely implicit. And riding that, Hibiki pushes her now-empty cup across the surface back towards Metaphor, who she offers a smile that's somewhere around 1/3rds apologetic. "Surprise me with something, please and thank you. I think I might be glad we have different ideas of normal. ...And I /am/ glad I came, by the way."
Ishirou	"Yes, please!" he says to a request for a drink. "That...one drink was a bit too sweet...kinda just like syrup." He thinks about this, "Sorry, am I being too picky? I just like sweet drinks when it comes to alcohol..." He gives Metaphor a smile, a little less forced than earlier, and...almost seems like he's coming down from whatever memetic hazard was in his head. Turning towards Dragonfly he keeps the smile up. "Well, you're not wrong...technically. Usually, I can process things in my head.." he says tapping it. "I would say it's... equivalent to highly powered bionic components. I can also offload processing and data storage to POD." he says, as POD, herself, waves a little. It is just a box-like robot with no face and two small arms. "I can also.." he says, and POD projects a holographic screen and a keyboard for Ishirou to use, but it vanishes right back. "Sometimes I need to handle things hand on...so this helps." "As for it being art, it's about how you use it...and how it affects a system. Just because something is one thing, doesn't mean it also can't be art. Art /is/ in the eye of the beholder, and all!" he continues. "Though...I guess a lot of the stuff I use is more utilitarian than art..."
Ishirou	Ishirou also shakes his head at Hibiki. "You don't have anything to be sorry for, so don't be."
Lilian Rook	"Without question." says Lilian, audibly relieved. "I'd feel like an absolute bum just drinking at home by myself. I need to get it all out while I'm here, you understand." she adds, thankfully with clear facetious intent. Pinã Coladas don't really fit with what she's consuming already, but they're nice, and there's rum involved. She takes one with gratitude. "It's true. I am normal." Lilian says, just after she has her next drink in hand. "A bastion of sense and clarity. I've never been weird in my life." Seat. Sip. Sigh. "But, since you brought it up, were you hypothetically hoping for something less normal? I need to know which party games to unbag." She could, theoretically be joking. But she does have, at minimum, her gamebrick somewhere in her messenger bag, courtesy of Strawberry. Lilian hangs on Dragonfly's response with the polite quiet that an honest answer deserves, but she's already thought of her followup before she finishes speaking to her. "Ah. It's something like that. I see." A beat. "Don't worry about it then. We all have things like that, to some degree." Zero elaboration. "Just to be sure, though, is your issue with 'spells' and 'magical energy', or is does it extend to things that just look like magic to see?"
Reyes	The bugged-out stare dwindles as Dragonfly explains. Reyes's look softens with some understanding and a bit of a sigh. Followed by a smile powered by a fair bit of irony. "Making magic behave more predictably's one of the main goals of my engineering profession." He admits, finally seemingly relaxed enough to TALK to anyone.
Dragonfly	Dragonfly takes a few moments to consider a response in regards to magic. For some reason, she's surprised that the conversation is as polite as it is. No excessive over-defensiveness, no fireballs thrown. Maybe something more latent is happening. Still, she eventually responds with, "Anything that... defies conventially-known laws of physics in an unpredictable manner. Though. I guess the rules do seem to change ever so slightly between worlds anyhow." She frowns, like there's a follow-up to that that she's supposed to give, but she never does. Instead she redirects back to Ishirou. "Mhh. So it is just alternate interfacing and remote-control through aux systems, then." Like this somehow settles it.
Lilian Rook	"Oh good!" says Lilian, just a little brightly. "How much do you know about sacred geometry?"
Reyes	Reyes blinks a few times and glances over Lilian's way. He can't recall ever hearing her sounding HAPPY before. Normal person happy. It has caught him by surprise. He turns around in his seat to look her way, intent on listening to this one.
Metaphor	LILIAN // REYES // HIBIKI Metaphor eyes Hibiki, giving her and her glass a once-over glance. She liked the juice. She swaps the glass for a clean one, rummages around in the cabinets, and... she's pulled out a separatory funnel. In a blur of motion, bottles and beakers are located, measured, mixed. Artistry in motion; a masterpiece painted in colorful fluid in exact quantities. The resulting glass is then held over a zippo she procured (sleight of hand, maybe) for a few seconds - the color of the mixture within shifting from a dull brown to a beautiful, deep crimson. A splash more of the pinapple juice; and the heated beverage is slid to Hibiki. Bracing, energizing, zesty. It tastes like it could raise you from the dead. After a few minutes of listening to the conversation on magic and the engineering of such, she sets her own glass on the bar, braces her hands against the bar countertop, and with a "hup" executes a vault over it that someone in a dress should certainly not be doing. Her legs are probably quite nice, if you're into the "massive industrial fixture" kind of aesthetic. Miraculously, nothing is knocked over or torn, and with a loud THUD she lands on the other side, collapsing onto the couch and reclaiming her drink. I shouldn't have done that. Too quick to get friendly. She's in the process of responding with, "Do you all carry game cons-" before Lilian's comment about sacred geometry snaps her head to the side. A gaze - is she a cultist / i shouldn't be rude / she's not a nar'sien right / that's geometer not geometry - but she breaks it after only a second. She hesitates, then deliberately, "...games sound nice? What do you mean by... uh, less normal party games?"
Ishirou	Ishirou looks at Dragonfly, and shakes his head. "You know magic doesn't defies conventially-known laws of physics right? In fact, many worlds have it as a major source of their physics. Things tend to...interact though on a similar axis of power though..." he muses, and grabs the gamebrick the moment Lilian talks about sacred geometry. "Yeah so...she's actually someone who has a degree in magic. I just study it for fun, so I wouldn't call myself an expert. I'm like the guy who can see information, and give it to experts to make better sense of." "Don't worry about it though... preconceived notions of how things 'should work' usually go away very fast when dealing with the multiverse. I...to be fair, had to go through it a lot too." He pauses, "...Honestly a lot by Lilian too."
Lilian Rook	"Well, I just sort of leave it in my bag." Lilian says to Metaphor. "Strawberry got it for my birthday and there are a few little games I like. It's a sometimes food." She follows with something closer to a smirk. Alcohol loosens her facial muscles. "Well, we could always play a board game if we want to stay to conventional, or I could pick something locally sourced and spicy." She does spare at least a second glance back for Metaphor's second of hesitation. "Arrangements and configurations of matter and form and energy that have inherent mystical significance in a vacuum. As salt circle, as faraday cage, as stonehenge, as the demon core. It's just a catchall name; it applies to writing and speech too. More properly, it's any pattern encoded in the universe with the right-- like the right wire length to catch radio waves." ". . . You've been through a lot, haven't you?"
Metaphor	LILIAN Metaphor tilts her head. "...video games would, uh, give Dee a chance to stomp me. Again. Like usual." There's no indication whether that's a good thing or not. It makes her oh-so happy. At least, externally. She's been nodding along, politely (because this still feels like people explaining how to design nuclear weaponry), to the magical topics at hand. It washes over her: discussion, respect of boundaries that was completely unanticipated, idle chatter. The question from Lilian is like a bucket of ice water to the reverie. A lot. It doesn't feel like a lot. Crying would be such a useful expression sometimes. She sort of slumps. Should comment something. Reassure. It's likely nowhere near as bad out there as it is here. Yet, words don't come quickly, and she just sits and listens to Dragonfly continue the conversation. Silence, but not awkward this time; just... listening. She's surrounded by people who well and truly... want to be here, with them. The comments about 'breaching the other side' don't even elicit a shocked reaction at this point, and she chuckles at the mention of Trivial Pursuit. "My condolences that your... uh, society also invented that game." It's pleasant. This isn't so bad.