Scene #9155: Petra Gets Carried Off By Spiders And Is Never Heard From Again

Owner	Pose
Petra Soroka	Petra has been called upon again for her most sacred duty. The act of service that, essentially, began her employment at Lobotomy Corporation, and more broadly characterized what her life and role would be like after all that terrible arc was over. Once again, Petra is on a mission, to make Lobotomy Coporation seem like a halfway decent location to exist in for a conversation. White's entry to Lobotomy Corporation is through a warpgate artificially constructed inside of a harsh, concrete cell, quarantined behind yellow and black hazard paint. Despite the aesthetics, no one even really blinks at her passing through it, and there's no barrier from there into the rest of the facility, just a few steps past an always-open door and into the much larger tan-and-green main chamber of Control Department. Almost fully constructed out of concrete, metal, and screens, plastered with Lobotomy Corporation's logo, it's a suffocatingly corporate prison, buried underground with only the single gate in and out. The smell of blood is barely covered up by the smell of bleach, her senses almost immediately pick up on the dozens of other cells with horrifying monsters trapped inside them, and also everyone is surprisingly pretty much cheerful and doing totally fine. Cool! Petra's there waiting for her (mostly waiting for Lilian, but, Lilian already knows her way around the place). She'd be unrecognizably pathetic-looking if all White knew about her was from the internet reports, and unrecognizably competent-looking if all White knew about her was from the radio, but it averages out that she looks just about as expected. A little shorter than White, dressed in a neat black company issue suit with the logo on the lapel, a faintly magical pair of orange and green heart hairpins holding her short blonde hair away from her face. She's also wearing a black leather collar with a gold lily ornament hanging off of it, which is immediately identifiable as being like the one in Lilian's hair. She leads White, Lilian, and scoops Angela out of her office along the way, taking the group down two floors in the elevator, and into the cool marine blue of Welfare department. The employees here are a lot less frantic than in Control, and Chesed alone, among all the Sephirah, manages to freshen the air in his department to the point that it almost doesn't smell like a slaughterhouse for clerks. Petra strolls through the halls eminently familiarly, before going up a half-flight of stairs and sliding open a heavy steel door with a little puff of exertion and presenting the room inside. It's the first time that Lilian has ever seen a rug in Lobotomy Corporation. The fact that Petra could theoretically actually afford nice furniture doesn't clear up whether she stole all of this for a second time, but if she did, she at least stole it all from the same place, where it was all coordinated for interior decor. The table and chairs aren't stuffily set up for a dinner or anything, just for a pleasantly comfortable talk in what is certainly Lobotomy Corporation's coziest room at the moment.
Petra Soroka	The wall opposite the door is taken up entirely by a long window, looking out over Welfare's main chamber, from a story up. The nature of the facility actually being built underground becomes clear when one of the walls of the high-ceilinged room beyond the glass is just bare stone flooded with gentle blue light, that fades off into darkness as caves plummet directly off the side of the concrete flooring. Screens, cameras, and tubing full of Enkephalin decorate the soothingly ominous chamber, but within this room, Petra habitually shoots little blobs of silver metal at each of the cameras in the corner to disable them. "Sooooo hi! I figured maybe you'd want a view of the facility, but walking around's always such a pain, so I made Chesed give me use of this room instead. Uh..." Petra isn't actually the one White is here to meet, and she's still kind of stuck on the patsy comment from yesterday, so she fumbles and trails off for a moment. "So I'm here if you need me. I have... wine? Or coffee." Both to Lilian's preferences, obviously. Not White's.
Angela	Maybe inviting White to the facility was a mistake. An act of impulse that could be problematic. She doesn't exactly want to be dishonest with White, but White... is NEW. New to the Concord and to the multiverse and new to Angela and she is so close to being free from this loop that maybe maybe maybe she can have a NORMAL relationship with White. They have a lot in common. They both live(d) underground, they both seem to have some issues with not getting to eat what they'd like, and White seems to be rather practically mindeed and has already risen up to being a ''Commander'' by her own merits AND she offered to make Angela a scarf which is just honestly kind of touching really. But she invied her over so she could meet Lilian and Petra but she is determined to keep the facility the least horrifying she can possibly make it today. She passes by a small blood splatter on the floor. She breathes in sharply through her teeth. "Cinder...!" She contacts her over the local 'Babble' commsnet. "There's a spill up in Control. Clean it up. We have a guest today." With a a soft disgruntled exhale, she smooths out her office dress, fans out her mandatory labcoat and makes her way downstairs. It's fine, she tells herself. She actually doesn't go straight to Welfare. She first goes downstairs to Records where the Tree is still growing, the grass is still soft, the little sun Persephone crated is still floating there, there's even an impossible river. The tree is gradually growing fruit, but there's two ready to be picked. She plucks the oranges free before her way back UP to her office to put them in Preservation boxes. One is for White, the other one is for her when she can finally eat. She promised herself that. She notifies Petra over Babble that she's ready and can readily be picked up from her office to join the group. "Dame Commander," Angela says. "It is lovely to see you as always. Commander White, good to see you again." She waits until they reach the table in Welfare before offering the box to White. "There are not too many oranges yet, but I collected one for you." Angela says. "Welcome to the facility." She takes a moment to appreciate Petra's interior decorating. It isn't TOO fancy, but it's comfortable looking. Angela opens her mouth but--is preempted by Petra disabling the cameras before she can ask her to. "Thank you, Petra. This is very nice." She doesn't ask for any beverages for herself--and doesn't even sit down until White and Lilian have. "The Dame Commander and Captain Petra have been a tremendous help. They're both very capable individuals and I know you've been looking for such people so I'm happy to introduce them."
White	White arrives looking much like the first time Angela saw her. Same silk dress, same boots, same body-height braid, and same lack of luggage. Using warpgates might be a temporary formality, but it's a necessary one, and behind closed eyes she's quick to take in the odd 'decor' when she arrives in the gate's cell. 'Not ominous at all. Very urban-horror of you, Angie. But maybe that's not off base? Poor girl needs some plushies.' she thinks as she steps out, keeping herself company as usual. Since she's not being recieved and led by anyone in particular right off the bat she hesitates at the door to the Control Department, leaning around it like she's worried about barging in after Lilian's previous comments. The smell is maybe the most unfamiliar thing here besides the concrete, to be honest. It reminds her a little of that crummy 'operations room' she set up in the Demon Lord's castle. 'Well, everyone seems fine and dandy here! Maybe the workplace coffee is really good.' she quips to herself optimistically. She's only there for a moment or two really, before she realizes that unfamiliar girl waiting there is looking at her. She'd written Petra off as one of the other staffers at first! Well, this is awkward. So she straightens up, takes her hand off the doorframe and folds it with the other in front of her lap... And stares back, of course. She's not going to guess who this is, if she's wrong that'd be horrifying! She could just check the girl's name, but that would need her to open her eyes... So she has a staring contest with them shut, waiting for Petra to say something. Though, being led in silence works too. She's not risking the embarrassment of guessing someone's name wrong. Never!! She'd sooner look aloof and graceful, belonging right where she is. 'She isn't going to lose to that door ri- okay, she's fine. That'd be embarrassing. For her I mean.' She looks as relaxed as could be in this perfect outward silence, even as she's settling into a chair. It probably dings her image slightly that she doesn't have to turn her head to take in the room and the decor here, clearly more deliberate than the arrival-point. It just kind of looks like she's staring at the far wall over the table, up until Petra blobs the cameras and White's head slowly turns to look at each. She's so tempted to take a Real Look, but she's holding off. For now. When she's greeted, she takes a few moments to consider her phrasing, and her voice comes out faint and only a little deeper than a whisper. "Thank you." She pauses again. 'Wine and coffee? What kind of spider does she think I am?! No, wait, she doesn't know that yet. And I guess I got over the coffee thing. Well...' "Coffee, please." There, nice and polite! Although... '... I forgot to ask for sugar.' only crosses her mind once Petra's probably on the move already. Angela, meanwhile, has the benefit of past exposure. It's not like White is easy to read normally, but it doesn't seem like she's reacting much to the state of the place either... She sometimes tilts her head up and away looking in the direction of the machinery, the pipes or cables, but it feels like curiosity more than anything. White seeing Angela looks distracted at first, seemingly by the labcoat in particular. An inane mental fork in the back of White's head muses on the nature of labcoats in character design, but she has more than enough attention to spare on a small wave, an appreciative nod that bends her shoulders forward, and to delicately accept the giftbox and place it in front of herself on the table. She realizes late it would have been more polite to stand for the greeting. So, as a smokescreen for her indiscretion, out come the scarves. She talked herself into making three of them in advance, and draws them from a barely-visible parting in the air at her side. Silk, double-layered, impeccably smooth, with little frilly tassels at either end that look like knitted yarn (but are in fact more silk). Only, they're still starkly white, and she splays them out across the table while s
White	White finishes that pose with \| (but are in fact more silk). Only, they're still starkly white, and she splays them out across the table while softly asking, "... Do you have a favorite color?" Angela comes first, of course.
Lilian Rook	'Dame Commander. It is lovely to see you as always.' "Likewise, Angela. It feels as if it's been some time, and also not at all. I wonder if that's the effect of working in the City lately?" Very slightly, Lilian wishes this was 'work'. Between the cloak and boots she has for the road in Elibe, the Association coat she has running Trídéag, and her costume set for her simulated supervillain duties at an undisclosed Paladins testing sight, Lilian is really starting to feel the absence of a school uniform in her life, now seduced by the dark temptation of having a purpose-chosen set of consistent clothes to wear in different scenarios. Even what she wears in combat situations has become so much more consistent. So, while enjoyable, picking everything out for various occasions on the spot feels surprisingly tiring these days. Okay. Well. She could still wear it. And probably get away with it. But that'd be weird. 'So I'm here if you need me. I have... wine? Or coffee.' Petra was technically not asking her, but Lilian really doesn't care about trivial details like that, simply snapping her fingers and saying "Coffee." all the same. Or perhaps it's not even related at all? She is dressed to look especially normal today, showing up in a cable knit black cardigan and white mock neck shirt, ordinary blue-grey pleat skirt with silver buttons and winter tights, practically the picture of catalogue winter cozy chic that middle class people think about a lot but never quite buy each winter. Her odd black necklace goes between the two layers. Her hairpin is obviously overwhelmingly too expensive for the rest, but she's not going to take it off now is she? White is surely far more interesting anyways, so really it should fly just fine. §. . . No. No you can't just ask if she's blind. Though if she were, obviously she'd be used to people asking, no? I bet I can totally figure it out through context cues. She turned her head at the sound of Petra disabling the cameras, so . . . Yes, it's probably one of those situations. Or, I hope so. It feels impolite to not make eye contact, so I don't really know what to do.§ "And, of course, it's a tremendous pleasure to meet you, Commander White." says Lilian, seated slightly before White is placing the gift box on the table; just in time to feel a little relief for something to track with her eyes. "Oh my, already? That's--" §Three? Seriously? Oh my goodness, she must actually be one of those vanishingly rare 'old-fashioned types' who understand good manners. It must be totally ordinary for officials to bring gifts when meeting foreigners, right? And we're-- well, Angela and I count as important, so that tracks. That's . . . so endearing?§ "--wonderful, actually!" Lilian says, lightly clapping her hands together. "It's been quite a long time since I've been fortunate to meet a new arrival with manners, so please excuse me!" she says, about nothing in particular, but still enthusd. "Do you often make visits as part of your duties? Diplomatic outreach, maybe? Or perhaps you're simply the reliable one who ends up having to liaise with everyone, haha~"
Petra Soroka	When White enters through the warpgate, Petra also stands and stares for a few seconds. In her mind, she is waiting for someone she will recognize, because she's met them already, and the barrier between radio perception and facial recognition doesn't register in her mind. This isn't helped by White not speaking either, because she doesn't even have the option to recognize her voice. 'White', also, instantly became categorized as a name in her head, after her one goofy interpretation of it as an adjective, so her color palette is a no-go too. But she is waiting here for someone, other than Lilian. When White doesn't advance to engage in business somewhere else in the facility, Petra puts two and two together, and after a pause too long to be comfortable, she blinks and says, "Oh. Hi. You're White?" Nope, nevermind, she's not over that, actually. The Mean Girls psychohazard paralyzes her brain for several seconds as she struggles to hold back saying 'oh my god Petra, you can't just ask someone why they're white'. "I'm Petra. Once, uh, Lilian's here, we'll get going." "Thank you, Petra. This is very nice." Petra humus quietly, proud of her work. While she has a fully decorated castle of her own, directly linked to the warpgate in Lobcorp no less, that she could've simply moved furniture from in order to decorate, she went the extra, unnecessary mile of stealing it all by breaking into someone's manor and carrying it out. She's been talking with Ash too much recently to stoop to engaging in the mundane trivialities of typical society. Choosing evil in every possible scenario where it's presented to her, and many where it's not, is just an ideological stance for her now. Everyone's an acceptable target! "They're both very capable individuals and I know you've been looking for such people so I'm happy to introduce them." Petra doesn't know quite how to feel about being described as a potentially useful asset to someone she just met. She's standing in the corner of the room rather than sitting (the corner nearest to Lilian), and being introduced like that, while not being a part of the conversation, makes her feel like a slab of meat getting graded. Is that so bad, though? She doesn't mind that much. It's nice to be considered competent, actually, and it's nice to know that it's true, and to not have to insist on it herself. If this person really does turn out to be a friend of Angela's, after this introductory honeymoon period, then Petra would be happy if White thought of her as reliable. After a few seconds of zoned-out silence, Petra blinks. "Oh, uh-- I can't really be loaned out, though. I mean, I'll help with your thing-- if it's a cool thing, like, ideologically-- but I... uh... maybe I can be loaned out, actually. But it'd be nice to know what it's for."
Petra Soroka	"Coffee, please." Given a Task, Petra immediately stretches up on her feet before plopping down and getting to it, like a dog hearing the word 'walk'. Thankfully, it isn't actually long before she comes back, with a tray of coffee serving supplies, sugar and creamer jars included. "It's just whatever Chesed had going, so, sorry, I don't know what flavor, or whatever. But he's a coffee snob." "Coffee." There is literally never a time Petra will make an offer of service without also intending for it to be acted upon by Lilian, too. After placing the tray down carefully on the table between White and Lilian, she says, "And I put your blend on, Lilian, so I'll be back in a sec." And so she is, with a carafe of the 'Black Blood' she knows is Lilian's favorite and therefore keeps in her mirror all the time, along with a jug of steamed milk and brown sugar on the tray. She pours it for Lilian without a second thought, retreats back to the corner of the room, and then wonders if she's just some sort of butler, or waitress now.
Angela	Angela does have one (1) teddy bear in her office but it came from outside the facility. Other than that, her office is still pretty bare. There's books and screens all over but there isn't even two office chairs in there, just one. She hates the office, but she really REALLY hates the labcoat. Angela's eyes are open. She has grown accustomed to keeping them closed but recently there has been much more worth opening her eyes for. Besides, it's the cameras outside this room that will see anything terrible and she can just choose not to look through those. And well, she is of course quite accustomed to seeing the horror anyway. But she doesn't want to think about that today. ''It feels as if it's been some time, and also not at all.'' "...It does. It always feels that way." Angela says. "But I suppose when it is ''work'' it is not as if we really get to talk much due to how pressing the objectives are and openly assisting the Trideag will only hinder you. I'd rather not do that. I hope Ceri is helping properly--she has been out of circulation for some time." Angela thinks it's a little strange of herself to be interested in helping a Demon Army when her goals are not really related to that at all. Maybe because Yuuki called her a Partner? This is a society she is actually a part of and some little piece of human in her brain wants to do good by a society that does good by her. "When there are more oranges, I will ... bring them to you myself in more pleasant environs." Angela adds. White didn't stand for the greeting, Angela thinks. It makes her wonder if she has already offended her by bringing her back underground. She imagines she would have disliked it herself if she had to go back to a location like this after escaping something so subterranean. Angela is pleased again when Lilian sticks with Commander White. Sometimese Angela shifts into more casual referrals to people like Lilian (and White, apparently) but she is more concerned with reinforcing the titles than being bound by them. But then White brings out the scarves. They look... They look warm. "...Purple, more indigo than violet." Angela says. They aren't colored yet, she wonders, does she intend to color them here? "They look lovely." Her eyes slant to Lilian and-- ''wonderful, actually!'' Angela manages a small little smile. "It is very sweet of you, especially on such short notice." Angela is rather pale herself--pale in a way that humans can't be, more like a vampire really but she has no fangs and also isn't a vampire. Periodically she looks towards the window and ... ''imagines'' that it led to somewhere worth looking out of. Angela is oblivious that this is stolen furniture but she probably wouldn't care so long as it looked nice. It's not like she's thrilled with society either. ''Oh, uh--I can't really be loaned out, though.'' "I am not--ah--trying to loan you out, Petra. You have been invaluable here and you may, ah, be out of a job here soon? Considering...the facility will explode into a pillar of light for a few days if all goes well." A brief anxious look flickers across her eyes before she pushes it down again. "...It is a positive reference." She decides, finding some comfort in the distance of corpospeak. Angela has neither coffee or wine but watches as beverage is poured and prepared as if obserevation is how she takes her own coffee.
White	White feels a little relief when Lilian goes straight for the introduction once they're each seated. Now she knows who is who for certain, and Lilian seems pleased with the gesture, so it wasn't a waste of effort to make more scarves after all! Really, White was prepared to be a little more anxious, but Lilian's dressed all comfy-like, 'So I guess I overthought it? I'm glad I didn't put much stock in what I read, she's not that scary.' She's smooth and steady about turning to give that half-nod-half-bow to Lilian as well, and parrot "A pleasure." back in return. Then, though, the sheer enthusiasm shown throws her for a little bit of a loop! She, unfortunately, has come to associate total ease and comfortable expression of joy with immense danger, so it puts her very slightly on edge out of habit, just enough that it starts to feel like she's staring even with her eyes shut. No peeks at the rest of the room even, for a little while, though she does turn her face toward others as they speak. At least the conversation gives her something to do that will help make it seem a little less like she's just being a weirdo with that not-quite-eye-contact. When Petra comes back with the coffee she doubles back slightly to make up for earlier, with a "It's nice to meet you, Petra. You seem considerate." She means because of the furnishing work, but anyone who could naturally make that connection at first blush would be a prodigy. She gratefully prepares her coffeecup with a slightly more-than-normal amount of sugar and delicately lifts it with a bit of support from the second hand's fingernails against the bottom; she doesn't seem to have any trouble at all with the heat. 'Petra might not have the dignity to be a butler, the competition is stiff after all. But gosh it's nice to have someone else minding the little things! Go Lilian, winner winner.'
White	White remembers, 'Oh right, Lilian.' She imitates a sentiment her target audience had shared the previous evening, softly answering "I'm sorry you've been so unfortunate.", then thinks for a few moments about the question. While her eyes may be closed, the faint twitches in the lids might give away that she's glancing around nervously behind their cover, as she tries to figure out whether it's better to let Lilian believe she's more impressive than she is in that particular field. Sadly, she's learned well enough by now that her weakness doesn't stay hidden for long, so... "Not really. I was..." She has to actually consider what her official role even was, since her position was so strange and arbitrary. "... I trained espionage specialists. And... Commandos." She feels the need to gulp, so she masks it with a sip of coffee. 'Did I even use that word right? I don't think I've ever tried before!' Then the scarves come back up, to save the day. 'Lucky! I'll impress them with this little trick and they'll be eating out of my hand forever. Not that I'm a tailor for hire though...' goes her inner musing, as she sets her cup back down gently and reaches out to touch one of the scarves again. 'Oh wow. Specific answer. Let's see...' she goes on to herself, sliding her fingertips along one edge of the scarf, on which there are no visible seams or stitches, save for the tasseled ends. As her fingers move, the color pours in from that edge and flows out, deepening quickly. Since she had no mental image of the precise color, she simply has to guess at shade and tone, looking up to Angela for a reaction or input. She does get distracted by the comment about the facility exploding into a pillar of light, and it disrupts her color-magic slightly, but she corrects the error quickly enough. A "blind woman" working with colors, of course, should be a dead giveaway.
Petra Soroka	"...It is a positive reference." "Oh. That... makes sense." Petra looks slightly disappointed at that, for some reason. Corporate language is an insult to her, but being treated like a particularly valuable and desirable object is comforting. "Well, I'm pretty useful." "You seem considerate." Placing the coffee down, Petra barely squashes down the urge to apologize for White's misconception. Holding on to that feeling for a moment longer doesn't make it go away, but it's mixed up in her tangle of feelings about regretting her radio introduction to White and wishing that she didn't make herself look so fucking stupid to everyone all the time. She lingers in that position for a moment and looks at White, but her somewhat consternated expression doesn't show any specifics of her thoughts. Probing her mind is worse-- it's actively painful, like plastic splinters embedded in your psyche, and the feeling washes off of her passively to a lesser degree, enough that Lilian's thoughts are blocked by stinging static too for the moment Petra is standing between their two chairs. Petra reaches her conclusion: actually, it is good to have a positive trait assigned to you by a Concord Partner you just met. She retreats back to her corner once Lilian's cup is set up, and says, "Well, uh, thanks. I try." The accompanying thumbs up rather than a bow undermines her butler-esque vibes even further, though. While the scarf is getting colored, Petra says aside to Angela, "For some reason, I thought your favorite color was, like, blue. But I guess I just associate that with you because of your... hair, probably?" Petra is in the least-plausible position to ask what White's deal and needs are, due to neither being a Partner or a Lilian, so even when the thought comes to her, she doesn't bring the topic up. Also, the idea of Lilian talking it out and determining where Petra's role in it should be, and then simply assigning her to help with whatever she deems necessary, without Petra's own input, inspires enough feelings in Petra that she's silently hoping that it happens. She stands in the corner, hands folded over her lap, and her gaze slides idly to the window, where Nonon is being carted by on a stretcher below to visit the medbay again after using her EGO to charge headfirst into a wall too hard.
Lilian Rook	'But I suppose when it is ''work'' it is not as if we really get to talk much' "Unfortunately." Lilian says, surprisingly lightly, while Petra scurries off for coffee. Slipping her bag off her shoulder, Lilian laces her fingers together and leans in her chair, closing her eyes to take in a certain pleasant thought. "Ceri is exceptionally reliable. Better than I imagined. But it just doesn't quite feel right without you at the desk, you know? Would it be too presumptuous if I commissioned something in your size, just in case you happen to need a new secretarial position~?" '...Purple, more indigo than violet.' Lilian will remember this information. Unrelatedly, Lilian lets her gaze slide sideways to White, and lingers on the pause between "I hope I haven't given you any cause for concern." and standing up for a moment to reciprocate with as much of a blue-blooded curtsy as one can do with a knee-length skirt. Odd coincidence. Or maybe just being on-edge somehow unconsciously bled through! 'It's nice to meet you, Petra. You seem considerate.' "She wasn't always that way, you know." Lilian says, conversationally. "If you'd like tips, I'd be happy to give them. Ah, but if you'd prefer that I fix up 'yours' myself, I'll have to charge an hourly rate~ Discounts for friends of Angela, of course~" It sounds exactly like a gossipy joke, which makes it feel like less of one. '... I trained espionage specialists. And... Commandos.' "Oh my, that's not typically a forward facing role, now isn't it?" she says, taking her coffee to immaculate conversational middlepose. "I suppose it pays to know how to be well-received in espionage, but commandos? I certainly didn't learn any of my manners from that, haha~" The length of time it takes to drink a little of her coffee is more than enough to register as 'Oh, I happen to be one of those myself!' in deniable key. Soothed by hot caffeine, Lilian smirks a little while White lays out the scarves, asking "Should I be watching my back around you~? with warm tones and a suggestive eyebrow lift." §Oh. What? I thought she had numbered vials or something on her. She's actually just-- wow. It must be magic, right? Did she lose use of her eyes? She is an experienced espionage agent, after all; there are a million and one scenarios where someone like that can suffer visual trauma or disability. I hope it wasn't a punishment. To refine a talent like that, and even become a tailor to prove it . . . perhaps tailoring was even part of her training and rehabilitation? She's much more dedicated than she appears. I'm impressed.§ "Now I'm almost envious." says Lilian, laughing politely a moment later. "Even I can't seem to find the luxury of hovering over my tailor's shoulder and making micro-adjustments to the colour. You must be quite in-demand!" It's contrasted by her quite sharply snapping her fingers to drag Petra's attention away from the window again, and say "Stop dawdling. She asked for your favourite colour."
Petra Soroka	"If you'd like tips, I'd be happy to give them." Petra really wants to protest that she's an exceptionally hard and also exceptionally emotionally deep case of brat management. She really wants to talk about the complex blend of inherent evil and intentional striving for self-destruction and obsession that led to her welcoming being domesticated, and being a challenge despite that willingness. However, to say that out loud, she would have to describe herself as domesticated, and also she'd have to talk over Lilian. So she only starts to open her mouth and lean forwards, before retracting the interjection. +10 butler score! "Stop dawdling. She asked for your favourite colour." "Oh-- shit, me too?" Petra startles a little, then holds up two fingers. "I like, uh, gray and brown. Like, winter colors. I guess those might be boring when magic's involved?"
Angela	Angela frowns. "If you'd rather be on loan, of course..." She hopes this isn't too much attention for White but it's decidedly less than when they first met. And Angela's fairly introverted herself so she suspects the pressure she exhudes will be less than average anyway. She can certainly turn pressure ''on'' but she is taking care to avoid doing that so it should be fine. White trained espionage specialists. Angela doesn't really have a need for espionage specialists right now, but she might in the future. But really she's a little uneasy about asking for someting from White--like, it'd suggest Lilian and Petra weren't enough? She doesn't want to do that. But she files away the knowledge all the same. Angela is perceptive but can't read minds. Angela isn't a tailor at all either, but she does notice the scarves don't look quite like any other she's seen--not that she's seen many. Angela is ... difficult to read, even with her eyes open. She isn't actually QUITE monotonal when she speaks, but she is very level. She tends to vocalize irritation rather than show it and she has no reason to be irritated. As the purple darkens, sh will eventually say, "Ah--that is it." She must have noticed White's head tilting in her direction. Angela, having seen herself with closed eyes thanks to the facility knows a bit of how emoting through that can look like. "How are you able to color like that?" She asks. ''Distracted by the comment about the facility exploding into a pillar of light.'' "Ah, sorry. It is a bit complex to get into but the short of it is that I was designed to assist in the facility's collection of psychokinetic energy. When the process is complete, the facility will spin upside down as it propels itself through several layers of earth before light erupts out from the roof. I hope it does not harm the tree but it is across the hall so I am hopeful." ''For some reason, I thought your favorite color was, like, blue.'' "I do like the color of my hair, but it is a bit much to manage. It is ''important'' that I keep it long, however." Angela says. "Though personally, I'd get rid of the hairtie. But for clothes, I prefer purple. It'd be matching, then." She glances to Lilian before adding, "There are other colors to like, of course, but I am quite fond of purple.' She doesn't seem to have a special rason for it. ''Would it be too presumptuous if I commissioned something in your size, just in case you happen to ned a new secretarial position~?'' Guilt flickers across Angela's eyes. "...That would be wonderful, Lilian. Even if I cannot assist directly until..." A glance to White but White has no reason to betray her, she realizes, and many reasons not to. '...Until I am both free and become ''myself''." She says. It feels like a relief to just say it, but she doesn't push forward on such an unusually phrased comment either. ''She wasn't always that way, you know.'' "That is true, but for as long as I've known her." She says which, for Angela is a very very very long time. She is aware it's not so with the others of the multiverse. ''I'll have to charge an hourly rate~'' "The Concord can likely help with funds if you require them." Angela adds, watching Lilian drink coffee. ''+10 butler score!'' 'Petra has gotten even better at this...' Angela thinks.
White	White may not be actively making contact with the others' minds, but she may still sense something about Petra's prickly mental aura by proximity. For all of her insidious influences and niche abilities, including more generic telepathy, she neither has the ability to dig into memory or thought unprompted, nor the particular desire to intrude in a way that might cause alarm. Just like the privacy conversation the night before, White has a preference for the sanctity of her own thoughts, and on the few occassions where she's shared a deeper mental link with someone it has only led to hassle and grief. 'Though, that was tooootally their fault. I mean, they each messed with me first and I didn't even mean to- oh right, I'm getting sidetracked.' She tunes back in to the others, curiously examining Petra's face for a moment or two with a subtle glance through the corner of her eye. She mostly picks up on some kind of dissatisfaction, but Petra doesn't seem to want to make an issue of it, so she won't either. 'Live and let grump!' Ironically, Petra might be more 'prickly' to White's naked eyes than her proverbial third eye. Or eleventh eye, as it were. Lilian is an eager conversationalist, and White can't help but wonder if she should be trying to take notes for her own purposes. The standing curtsy is one she easily chalks up to her own mistake previously. The flirting she accepts as beyond her abilities, though she's known how fearsome that particular ability can be. She's taken a little off guard when her demeanor is commented on, though, and rouses again from distracted absorption with a small shake of her head that shifts some of her hair from behind her ear into her face, and she gently corrects that. "Not at all." she lies just a little bit, trying and failing to think of a convincing excuse to follow up with. She ends up doing another of the same small bow-nod seemingly out of reflex to fit in. But, then talk moves again, and she hopefully presumes that whatever she did to worry Lilian is in the past, even as she continues to focus on her a fair bit. "Vam- I mean... Sophia is... Very attached to Meram-... Merazophis." she starts to softly decline. It takes her a few seconds to wind up for even more explanation. "It would be hard to get her away from him for lessons. But thank you." 'Damnit! I'm really not used to talking about those guys to other people like this! I basically never had to except when I shoveled work onto one of them...'
White	White finds talking about work is at least more familiar in concept, but she still takes her time choosing each word and trying to speak as simply as possible. The longer this goes on, the more it seems like her voice has barely ever been used. It fits the trope of a spy, somewhat, but not so much the reality. "I didn't either. I am still new at this." she responds initially, taking another sip to wet her throat. The suggestive question about back-watching takes her longer than the rest, as she cautiously checks the conversational landscape for landmines. "No. But most people do." She pauses again to think about the tailoring comments. 'I've been keeping my shtick under wraps for the most part, but I guess I can't get work if I don't have a resume right? It's not like I have to say everything...' She clears her throat softly while turning her hand over. She won't have to explain as much, she thinks, if she demonstrates a little. "This is just a hobby. I wanted to practice this." It's hard to see what's happening initially, outside of a faint glint in the electric lights of the room that rises irregularly from her hand. Closer examination reveals a number of tiny, almost translucent threads rising from her fingers, around the nails, the knuckles, the prints in particular. They move and sway as if in a faint circular breeze, as she manipulates them. "I was recognized as an assassin too, Miss Petra. I'm not good with people, but I had a lot of experience. And information warfare was one-sided in that world." It's not clear how that connects to silk creation or manipulation, because it doesn't. She's just kind of meandering topics. Once Petra gives an answer about coloration, she finishes up with Angela's scarf by adding some gentle pink to half of the tassel-ends for contrast, then moves on to Petra's. Since the colors are uncomplicated, she transmits the extra silk she's just produced into a fun little embroidery of a mouse's face.
White	White then has another specific question from Angela, and while it's a matter of interest for her and something she could brag about easily, she's still a little self-conscious. The previous demonstration might lead Angela to the right conclusion anyway. Instead she's more interested in listening to the explanation Angela offers readily, while working on Petra's scarf. Somehow, hearing that the explosion of 'psychokinetic energy' is enough to relate to, and White nods in mild sympathetic relief. She doesn't want someone she luckily relates to going and blowing up suddenly, that would be so disappointing... Typical, but disappointing. "Blue and purple are nice. Easy to wear." she adds thoughtlessly, giving her generous sleeve a little shake to emphasize the almost watercolor blue-purple-pink gradient there. She also has no pithy commentary about 'becoming oneself'. If anything, she just nods again in silent solidarity.
Petra Soroka	"It would be hard to get her away from him for lessons." How embarrassing. White's brat has an attachment to a man! Clearly she needs Lilian's lessons more than she thinks she does. Petra won't say that, because that's an insane thing to say, but she does immediately form the opinion that White supposedly should be a more authoritative figure to these people she's never met than she is, and that this Sophia is doing a bad job. Social politics are for suckers. "This is just a hobby. I wanted to practice this." At the indication, Petra breaks from her attempted professionalism of lurking behind Lilian to leeeean in and inspect what White is doing. The look on her face is politely curious (she barely knows how to sew, and there's a lot of magic she accepts that she won't understand), but once the threads catch her eyes she gasps lightly. "Oh, shit, is that thread you make? Like Spiderman? Er--" Since White is a newcomer to the multiverse, Petra helpfully explains, "Spiderman was an Elite on a neighboring Earth to where I grew up. Wore a mask, saved people, shot webs out of his hands or whatever. Like a spider?" "I was recognized as an assassin too, Miss Petra." So, cooler than Spiderman. Got it. Petra nods, weighing whether she's more disappointed in losing her status as the only successful assassin on the radio that she's aware of, or more interested in knowing what being an assassin is actually like, given that she's a complete amateur. "What kinda people'd you kill? Or, is that, like, a grim question? I've..." She snickers at a joke that's only funny to herself. "I've only ever dabbled in it, but I totally could have gone pro."
Lilian Rook	'Oh-- shit, me too?' "She brought three scarves, didn't she?" Lilian says, as if Petra is a complete moron and she's losing her patience. Hm. 'I do like the color of my hair, but it is a bit much to manage. It is ''important'' that I keep it long, however.' "How dirty does it actually get?" Lilian tries not to frown. "There are tricks to it, and you get used to it once you know them. But if it's absolutely killing you, it's not the end of the world if you cut it." '...That would be wonderful, Lilian.' This is good news however! All is forgiven! "I'll get started straight away, and consider it a good luck charm." she says. "If you, for some reason, would like to start as a Fixer, or something else instead, of course I'll accommodate." She did just kind of mentally project Angela as a secretary. For normal reasons. 'It would be hard to get her away from him for lessons. But thank you.' Lilian raises an eyebrow, but doesn't say anything out loud about White's naming struggle. "That sounds like a complicated situation. My condolences." she says, then after a moment, "Or perhaps a very simple one, in which case my condolences as doubled." §Were those nicknames? She did curse one of them to call her 'master'. Is this one of those 'polycules'? It sounds like she's close to them, and the other two sound as if they're joined at the hip . . . God this would be so easier if I-- No, no, bad habit.§ "In either case, it's nothing to be ashamed of." Lilian says, for No Reason. 'No. But most people do.' "My my. You surround yourself with unusually sensible people, then." she says, going bakc to her coffee. "You may ask Petra for some of mine once you can, of course." is said aside to Angela, part of the conversation. The implication 'when you can taste' is clear, veiled to the minimum of politeness. 'This is just a hobby. I wanted to practice this.' Lilian hesitates. §What a smooth deflection. But a little raw, too. It must be a sensitive subject . . . She might be that quietly diligent type who value their pride. Let's not unnecessarily draw attention to it.§ "Well, for a hobby, you're astonishingly skilled. Not to say that a hobby need always be less refined than your work, but if you ever changed that line, I'm certain you'd find yourself successful in no time." she says. "Honestly, what a perfectly useful skill. I'm even a tiny bit jealous. I don't really cook or sew, so I've been wondering if I should pick up a more domestic hobby lately. To contribute around the house, you know?" "Oh, and so as not to keep you waiting, kelly green." Lilian says, going back to her coffee to let White breathe for a moment. 'I've only ever dabbled in it, but I totally could have gone pro.' Lilian smoothly reaches out and pinches the back of Petra's hand and slowly twists with her nails until Petra shuts up. It bleeds immediately. "You mentioned your world's information paradigm." she says, brightly and perfectly conversational while this is going on. "Is spycraft really so rare a thing? I'm afraid to say that infowar isn't quite an undeveloped topic in the Multiverse, so you may find stiff competition in certain circles. Then again, the average Elite is an infosec nightmare. They can't keep their mouths shut to save their lives, and loathe doing things in a way that won't generate clout. If you're willing to put up with them at more than a surface level, there's likely no shortage of people who'd find information on their rivals very useful."
Angela	Angela knew it was a mistake to say long hair was difficult to deal with after Lilian told her she preferred her with long hair before she said it--but it just sort of came out. She didn't exactly mean it in quite the way that she'd prefer it short but she's not sure how to articulate an explanation in the moment. She sets it aside for a moment to focus on White's work. Her expression is a touch sympahetic whene it sounds like she has to keep two sets of names for each person she knows. Angela mostly knows the Sephirah as their Sephirah but the fact they just had normal names at some point is a bit annoying sometimes. ''I guess I can't get work if I don't have a resume right?'' Angela steps away from corpo speak this time to say, "If you are looking for things to do, there will be no shortage of it, particualrly the 'adventurous' sort of work. But ''actual'' work, by the sound of it, is a bit more difficult to come by. I would suggest at leas having some sort of 'real job' if only for balance but ... Well, Commander of a Demon Army qualifies." A thought occurs to her. "Could you not put ''that'' on a resume? I imagine most Wings, at least, would love to employ someone with experience commanding a demon army. Or 'assassination'." She has no idea how non-Wing corporations work but she can't imagine it's that different. ''Easy to wear.'' "Yes. It looks formal, but not ... strictly ''work'' formal." Is Angela's thought on the matter. ''Spiderman!!'' "She does have the ability to create spiders." Angela says. "They're even custom." She's bragging on White's behalf about it. But she has no idea how one actually makes a custom spider, actually. ansi9243,''What kinda people'd you kill?'') "Do you mind talking about that sort of thing, Commander White?" But then she has to think about hair stuff. Secretary stuff. Future stuff. "Well, it is a bit distressing when ... facility material gets in it, but I was more referring to styling rather than expressing a desire to cut it." She doesn't want to get into the matter that the little hairtie she was given was clearly meant to connect her to Carmen and is considered ''uniform'' ... She'd rather White never learn how little freedom she actually has in this facility. When she escapes, triumphant, she can share the sob stories. "A secrettary is ifne. I would rather stay away from violence personally if I can manage it. I've seen enough of it for one life. But I will, of course, if it is beneficial to you three." But that isn't the same as making it her actual for real job. She seems fine remaining a Secretary. It was never the 'being a Secretary' that was the problem. And even if it was, it's just too much ''new'' to consider. "I just do not want you to draw the ire of the Arbiters, Dame Commander. At last not until you are situated."
White	White pauses firmly enough that one can almost imagine her lurching forward slightly, and looks at Petra again. Outwardly, it might initially seem like she's taken some great offense, but on the inside... 'Oh. Oh she's right, I am so just like spiderman. Spiderman with powercreep!' The first smile her three new friends are likely to see from her, and perhaps the only obvious one for a long time, looks like the toothless smirk of a folklore ghost known for haunting bathrooms. Then it's gone again. Not because the stroke to her pride in her 'brand' lost its effect, but because she realized she has to lean into it with dignity. By her own definition at least. "Yes, Miss Petra. Like Spiderman. But a mage." She realizes that doesn't really narrow things down much, and starts to get ahead of herself contemplating further demonstrations, having completely forgotten that she was trying not to show all of her cards immediately. She looks around the room, scrutinizing the walls and ceiling, but before she can think-talk herself into just a little show of braggadocious magical force she's drawn back into Q&A. "Not a specific kind of person. About as many monsters really." she offers to Petra, and completely forgives whatever stupidity or forgetfulness is going on surrounding the scarf-color topic. She hears Lilian and Angela talking, chalking it up to more flirting, and softly rouses the peanut gallery in her brain to privately conduct a cheer-session for Angela. It's kind of refreshing seeing people openly be sweet on each other without being yandere about it for once. To Lilian, she nods simply. "It's a shame Sophia can't get anything done when he's around. They're both skilled and quite smart." As for hobby-talk, she's oblivious to Lilian's impression of her phrasing, but nods. "I've gotten a lot of use from it. My army was an afterthought, so I made the uniforms myself to save the budget." Then she hears 'Kelly Green' like an unfamiliar name. 'Is she talking in code at me? Because of the spy thing? No, wait, she hadn't mentioned a color. What's... What's kelly green..?' So she sits there having a little panic attack in her head alone, while slowly reaching out to the third scarf after sliding the other two towards Angela and Petra, across the table. She starts to slowly change it between numerous faintly different shades of green while hidden-staring at Lilian's face looking for some kind of tell when it looks right. It's a bit intense, since she doesn't even look like she's paying attention to the task.
White	White continues to engage, regardless, with some effort. "I'm not attached to my old job. It was just what the Demon Lord needed." comes her answer, though, at Lilian's explanation of expectations. She did call herself a figurehead commander and downplay her abilities with her troops somewhat on the radio, before. "And... My ability in that area is diminished somewhat." she further explains, before adding as if forgotten, "... Because of the circumstances." As if 'circumstances' is a particularly descriptive word here. "It hasn't been hard to gather information. But I'm looking for... Things besides income, mostly." She has to stop again, and struggles internally to find a level of specificity she's satisfied with. "Unusual possibilities, I suppose." She softly clears her throat and takes another drink, wondering if this is the most she's said in one sitting to anyone besides Ariel... Perhaps ever? But, then Angela reminds her that she already fessed up to her custom little fellas and even shared a picture of one recently. So, that's not a secret worth keeping anymore, and she can brag a little more about her strong spider-themed branding and identity. She reaches into the air and once again pulls something free, but instead of a scarf, this time it's one of those smiley white spiders being pulled out of space by its rear end like a weird tennis ball. It flails its legs a little, but settles down once she places it on the table upright and pats it on the rump. It lifts its foremost pair of legs, as if posing after a gymnastics routine.
Lilian Rook	'I would rather stay away from violence personally if I can manage it. I've seen enough of it for one life.' "God I can imagine." says Lilian, tone slipping just a bit. "Frankly, I appreciate it on some level. The people in our line of work are far too obsessed with dominating everything through violent force; usually only to end up being dominated themselves. You're practically normal about violence by comparison." She can't help but stare a little at White's smile. §Ghastly. The poor thing must not often have any reason to practice it. I can't imagine there's all that much to smile about, given what I know; and what it seems like she's been through. Perhaps like attracts like, if she's already close to Angela. At least it seems that she's the sort that responds well to attention instead of bristling or withdrawing. She must be doing her best to recover, put one foot in front of the other, and lead a life she can be proud--§ "--You know Spider-Man?" Lilian blurts it right out before she knows it. She blinks, then coughs, and tries to play it off. 'Not a specific kind of person. About as many monsters really.' "S-So. You're a mage? I'd sort of gathered-- from the way you hold yourself, I mean. And your build. And . . . Well, so your world is the sort that has monsters too? Are they a common problem? It doesn't sound as if you have specialists, so . . ." §Oh god keep the conversation moving.§ 'It's a shame Sophia can't get anything done when he's around. They're both skilled and quite smart.' "She's that sort. I see . . ." says Lilian. She tries not to stare at Petra, but she does give her a little look. "Then perhaps someone should take him aside and instruct him that he should be putting his job first and giving her directions when she gets like that. Girls who are that way tend to crave orders and structure." 'I've gotten a lot of use from it. My army was an afterthought, so I made the uniforms myself to save the budget.' §As I thought. Her superior is the needlessly harsh type. I'll have to see if I can try sweet talking her later.§ '... Because of the circumstances.' "Beg pardon?" Lilian almost misses it, being engaged in an accidental staring contest, due to finding being stared at with closed eyes sort of unnerving as a response to her request. "Besides income?" She laughs, a little nervously. "Well, if it's a husband, then it seems you're practically set." It takes a while for her to finally notice the scarf. "Oh." Lilian clears her throat and sets her coffee cup down. "It's like grass put up to a bright light. A sort of vivid green that's less yellow than lime but more than primary." Unfortunately for her, Lilian has an established weakness for small animals. Ones that do cute little tricks are a killshot. Lilian clutches her chest as if the bullet went through the heart. "Oh my goodness! Just look at herrrrr!" Lilian coos, leaning as close to the table as she can comfortably get to examine the little spider at eye level. "Oh now I really am jealous! What sort of magic is that? What kinds do you use in general actually? Besides the threads and the-- pocket dimension? Tell me~!"
Petra Soroka	"I imagine most Wings, at least, would love to employ someone with experience commanding a demon army." "Oh, can I use my experience commanding a robot army to negotiate a raise?" It's an idle joke, but Angela is an AI that has a lot of trouble understanding jokes, so Petra hastily backpedals. "--I don't need that, though. I don't need to be paid more. I just think it's funny to put that on a resume like a second language." "Yes, Miss Petra. Like Spiderman. But a mage." White's ambiguous expression strikes alarm in Petra at first, bad as she is at reading faces. Insulting White in front of Lilian would be dangerous, and Petra really can't have any more fumbles with Lilian right now. A smile is probably, but not necessarily a good sign-- it could be an evil smile! Lots of women have those! So when that sentence comes out, the relief that Petra feels is doubly strong. Not just relief, but an intuitive understanding, a deep kinship running through her blood and her posts, hearing the words unspoken and the immense cultural baggage that they carry. 'Like Spiderman, but a mage', would be the title of a Wikelite forum thread. "Sick. I never cared enough to follow him, but your style's way better." She hasn't actually seen anything much of White's style. She mostly holds that opinion because White is a woman, and also pretty. "About as many monsters really." "Oh, huh. How do the skills translate? I mean, between assassinating monsters and people. I don't know if I've ever killed a monster in a way I'd call an assassination." She falls silent with a pained whimper as Lilian pinches her hand. Fingers splayed against the table, lips pressed together to keep any more sound from coming out, back tense and thighs stiffly squeezed, until Lilian lets her go. She gingerly cups the bleeding nail marks with her other hand, and with a small strained creak in her voice, says, "Let me refill your coffee for you, ma'am." After leaving the room for a minute and coming back with a fresh carafe, she looks cheerfully relaxed again, with all the blood dabbed off. She comes back in right before the spider makes its fabulous entrance, getting all the way to stand between Lilian and White to place the coffee on the table before noticing it. Right next to her!!!! Petra yelps in surprisingly girlish fear and startles backwards. Automatically, she slips behind Lilian, secure from the threat by observing it from over Lilian's shoulder. "Oh. Right. Of course you would... wait, I-- I'm not scared of spiders. I work with spiders sometimes." The fact that Petra's method of recovering from her shock at this comparatively small, extremely adorable spider, is to compare it to the maneating monsters that she deals with day to day, in order to downplay its fear factor, is as nonsensical as it is effective. "... Like Laetitia! She's one of the Abnormalities here. She's, like, mostly a kid, but she'll curse you with spiders as a joke while you play with her."
Lilian Rook	'--I don't need that, though. I don't need to be paid more.' "God knows how you got paid at all." Lilian mutters. "They'll give anyone a bank account." 'I don't know if I've ever killed a monster in a way I'd call an assassination.' "But you have people?" Lilian, the not-knower, turns her neck to stare at Petra incredulously. She lets it go quickly, once the conversation moves on to more interesting things, letting Petra go with a quiet scoff. In fact, she seems to practically forget she exists until she returns with the coffee. Then her expression turns icily bland. §Don't look so fucking refreshed you freak.§ 'wait, I-- I'm not scared of spiders. I work with spiders sometimes.' "It took you this long to remember?" Now Lilian is twice as incredulous. Why Petra chose to hide behind her is simply a mystery! "Look at this-- You have a pet! Isn't it cute? It's adorable, right? Apologize to the spider."
Angela	Angela may be at least a little bit crazy (it'd be strange if she wasn't, considering) and she may love Lilian but so far she has managed to keep these elements of her nature seperate. It'll be difficult to not be a little crazy when she finally reaches for her freedom. It'd be strange if she wasn't a little crazy once she has the chance to reach for her future. Hope, in of itself, is a little crazy. Angela cannot read minds, but she has definitely noticed some similarities between the two of them. She notices the first smile. She doesn't mind it looks evil, ghastly, and horrifying because the smiles that Angela have been using for practice--particularly the ones before she met people like Lilian and Petra--were spooky themselves. She imagines the smile she has ready, the most sincere smile she has planned for the future. A smile, she believes, is the most human-like gesture one can give. And so she's been practicing. Clearly, White simply needs practice. This is why she had to introduce her to her two best(est) friends. She's going to ''not'' be a freak psycho who is constantly tormented to the point of banality by the lives she had to extinguish just to live. She's going to be normal. She'll have a relationship that isn't centered around how she needed help. It's perfect. The timing is perfect. Well, almost perfect. Perfect would have been two months from now but it's close enough. Angela's made compromises her entire life and two months is a small one even when multiplied by one hundred. ''The people in our line of work are far too obsessed with dominating everything through violent force.'' "Perhaps they simply haven't had enough violence in their lives yet. I imagine with enough of anything, it gets tiresome after a while even if you are remarkably bloodthirsty." ''You're practically normal about violence by comparision.'' 'Yes...' Angela thinks. 'Good impression. Basking in the normality...!' Her face is perfectly stoic as ever. Sometimes, Angela forgets to turn that off ven when she has no reason to keep it up. It's become habit. ''You know Spider-Man?'' "I actually do not know Spider Man myself." Angela says. "But I suppose I can imagine..." She cannot. "I often think about what you say about 'Elite Work' not being the sole element in your life." Angela says. "Perhaps in its asbence I will see more reason to engage in it, but right now my goal is to see what I am with only the responsibilities I choose." She gives a small little glance to White after before worrying again that her scheme is doomed, actually. But if Lilian kills her to save The City, that's not the best outcome but it's not the worst either. An eternity of this is what's the worst. She just hopes she doesn't have to settle for second worst outcome. ... She would have to kill her, wouldn't she? She hasn't killed before, but simply returning her to he cycle--she wouldn't do that. So what other option would she have? Angela gets to see the cute spider in person. She smiles again and gives the spider a little wave. "You know, she's cuter in person." ''Lilian coos.'' Angela turns her head and smiles away from anyone. ''Can I use my experience commanding a robot army to negotiate a raise?'' "Absolutely. That is a very convincing argument for providing a raise." Angela says, nodding along.
Angela	''Like Laetitia! She's one of the Abnormalities her. ... But she'll curse you with spiders as a joke.'' "Meeting you would certanily make Laetitia's day." Angela says, unsure how cursing White with spiders would work when she already makes her own. "She'd likely resonate quite...vibrantly."
White	White gives Lilian a Look when she seems baffled by knowing about Spider Man. She can't quite make up her mind whether to say 'the name is self descriptive' or 'I have the internet', but both sound like they might embarrass Lilian. Once again, she has to let her senpai save face... 'Though, I guess she's not really one? She's in the Paladins. But I guess I'll let it slide.' How magnanimous. She moves on to the next thing then, commenting "Meramera is a hard worker. It's a shame he won't get to date, he'd be popular." Of course, this is just going to make every previous comment sound a little more confusing, not less. Also, she forgot to correct to his proper name this time. She really is getting comfortable. Though, Lilian does accidentally manage to retaliate slightly, confusing White just as much when she mentions a Husband. She deliberately looks away, stalls responding until she finishes correcting to the described type of green, and then a little longer to add some gentle gradient stripes and see how Lilian likes that. Only then, after she's had far too long to try and parse the previous comment, does she take a shot at a reply. "No." Okay, so that was a bit much for her to understand. The closest she's come to romance is making up ships for other people based on drama-show character archetypes, and she'll probably take that to her grave if she has any choice in the matter. Thankfully, the power of round little beafts seems to be universal. Lilian's enthusiasm is once again a tidal wave that White has to find some way to mitigate in order to react to it, and she does so by picking her little eight-legged creation up and placing it in front of Lilian like a small dog. It wiggles a little like it feels strange to stand still and be stared at, but its assigned duty is impossible to decline; being the decoy is hard work, but makes White's social labor a little easier to stomach. "Cloning." is answered first, though it's hard to tell at a glance how 'cloning' and 'custom models' relate when there's no base model seemingly in sight. Then she continues, "Dimensional Magic is my specialty. Black Magic for combat. The threads and eyes are partly natural." ... Oops. She drew attention to her eyes again. Persephone seemed really interested in them too, and now White's getting carried away with strangers again. So, she does the last thing she should be relying on doing, and tries to just drown the previous statement with a new one... Badly. "Ikeepmoreinherelook" she mutter-babbles, prying her pocket-space open and dumping some dozen or so more spiders onto the table in a tumbling ruckus like she's trying to throw a smokebomb.
White	White puts a lot of faith in that smoke bomb and turns to Petra, though she's not really sure why she's fretting so much about keeping her secrets. She keeps bouncing back and forth between wanting to get comfortable and wanting to maintain some kind of subtle leverage, but it's really hard when someone's making precious faces at her hard-worked-for mascots, and someone else is scratching her spider-identity ego. "Monsters are totally different from people, but they get smarter as they gain levels. Dragons definitely warrant 'assassinating'. It's usually not a fair fight either way. But... The people I fight are usually special. It's hard to keep them dead, since they're paranoid." She hadn't put much stock in the pinch or the associated injury, but sees the change in Petra's demeanor and touches her thumb to her chin in weirdly deep contemplation. 'Would that work better than just tying Vampy up when she's being a punk? She just heals anyway. Cheater.' She almost doesn't even notice her leave to get more coffee and clean herself up. At first, the clone-spider on the table pokes fun at Petra by wiggling its little legs at her 'menacingly' when she recoils, but then it goes back to wiggling with a smug little sway when Lilian applies pressure on its behalf. It Knows. All its siblings have to turn themselves over and upright first, but then they start doing the same thing. Mob action works! Talk of a spider abnormality, though, doesn't quite excite White as much as might be expected. She opens her mouth slowly as if to voice a hesitant objection, then shuts it and scrunches her mouth a little to one side like her cheek is full of bubblegum. 'I can't just... Say I don't get along with spiders. That's going to mess up my image at this point...' So, she broods over it. She's not any better with sentient spiders than she is with people, frustratingly. It's a good thing nobody can see her flashbacks in real time, today.
Petra Soroka	"God knows how you got paid at all." "H-huh? I have-- I have plenty of money. I got paid in cash for the first couple months. But I've got, like, billions of ahn. That's way less in credits, but-- but, I-- I'm not, like, some-- I need a bank account. I'm not homeless anymore." "But you have people?" Petra stays silently for a few seconds, shiftily side-eyeing. Technically, she could bring up Ishirou here, as a safe example that Lilian is aware of, but that one still has the risk of making her upset too. So, because not responding is unacceptable, she just slips in a meek "Well, you know, here and there..." when it's least likely to actually draw conversational attention back to her. "Look at this-- You have a pet!" "Sorry! Sorry. Yup, I do. His name's Curupira and he lives a couple floors up. And he's a chinchilla. Sorry, um, spider. You're very cute." Petra tentatively approaches to also coo at the spider, gently putting out a finger to stroke it, with several looks up to White to make sure that this is acceptable. She's just finally relaxing-- 'Ohhh... you really are cute, huh? You're just a tiny fuzzy dumpling. Soft little guy.'-- when White deposits a dozen more spiders on the table right next to her. She shrieks and ducks behind Lilian a second time, then sighs defeatedly. In order to prove her bravery and affection, she just takes a deep breath and plants her hand on the table, palm up, like she's inviting dogs to come sniff it-- or spiders to come crawl up it. "They're cute." That's meant to boost her confidence, mostly. "Monsters are totally different from people, but they get smarter as they gain levels." "Oh, yeah, that totally is different from people. Most people don't get smarter no matter what." Petra says this while gritting her teeth and plunging her hand into a pile of spiders.
White	White\| To Petra's benefit, the spiders like being praised and appreciated as much as White does on the inside. To her detriment, their group network gets scrambled as her hand passes between some of them, and within moments they're jumping onto her body in pairs and climbing all over her trying to figure out what the deal is. Thankfully the sheer discomfort of the experience stops them from keeping this up very long and leads to them leaping off again in short order, but for half a minute or so Petra looks like the victim in a spider-themed horror movie. At least it just tickles most of the time, though their legs are kind of sharp and they're a little weighty.
Angela	Angela quirks her head. Meramera? Her thoughts go back. Ah, right, the two names. She watches the spider in front of Lilian, it looks like it looks a little uncomfortable? Or--no, perhaps it IS like a dog. Dogs sometimes jump up on two leg despite being suited for four. It makes sense. She pretends to not notice the strange comment about the eyes. She's keeping them shut for a reason, presumably, and it doesn't seem to get in the way too much. Angela has on element about her nature that might be frustrating to White. Namely, small gestures of social anxiety are spread out over far too long a time for her to NOT notice them. Does she not like spiders? Or perhaps it's simply because it's a spider ''ABnormality''. Abnormality is something of a loaded term after all. And, well, Angela doesn't really like too many AIs so she can't be too shocked by that but she's not really sure which it is. Her instinct tells her it's more likely because the term 'Abnormality' was used but if she just says 'Ah, it is just a term we meant no offense' she could accidentally be apologizing for something that didn't bother her after all until she ''said'' so. Before she comes to a conclusion, she is also put in a position to contend with the reality there is now a spider pile to deal with. Her eyes slant towards Petra. She's a bit surprised by the reaction, honestly, but she supposes everybody has their vulnerabilities. Angela, who is not one who usually has to worry about being bitten or poisond, just reaches into the spider pile and picks one up and gives it a tentative robo-hug. She doesn't know how tough these assassin spiders are. After a moment, Angela loosens her grip and allows the spider to jump away without further incident. "Hm. A compulsion..." She murmurs.
Lilian Rook	'Perhaps they simply haven't had enough violence in their lives yet.' "I imagine more that it's the delusion that one day they'll be violent enough to be the ones in charge. You know. Temporarily embarrassed tyrants." 'I imagine with enough of anything, it gets tiresome after a while even if you are remarkably bloodthirsty.' "Well. Not everything gets old just from exposure. Especially if it's a visceral pleasure for them." Lilian says, savouring the last bit of her coffee. "Some of them . . . Well, people don't just stop eating good food, or stop having sex, because they've 'had enough'." 'Meramera is a hard worker. It's a shame he won't get to date, he'd be popular.' "Settling down with his first love . . ." Lilian sighs, palm to her cheek. "If only we'd all been so fortunate." 'No' "Or wife!" Lilian hastily adds. "W-well, it was a joke in the first place. I just didn't want to give you the wrong idea." 'Cloning. Dimensional Magic is my specialty. Black Magic for combat. The threads and eyes are partly natural.' "My my. That's quite a portfolio." Lilian says. The words are relatively ordinary, but she says each one with genuine intrigue. "Where do you learn to do all of those at once? Is 'cloning' magic really all that useful in espionage and assassination?" She'd imagine it is for tailoring, at least. "Oh-- Your eyes? I beg your pardon, but I'd assumed . . . Well, if this is what's most comfortable for you." she says, a little uneasily. Oh look! More precious babies! Lilian is actively hoverhanding now, trying not to grab their little forelegs and wiggle them along to reciprocate. When she finally looks up from fussing, she sees White holding her chin and staring at Petra, and instantly blurts out "Don't get the wrong idea." 'Oh, yeah, that totally is different from people. Most people don't get smarter no matter what.' Lilian tries and fails not to snort.
Angela	"I see. Perhaps I simply need more experience to properly understand the median mind." She just won't say what that translates to normally.
White	White's spiders are soft and squishable, but a little more able to take a squishing than your average spider. They're... Rubbery, kind of. Still not very tough though, even if they're probably fine being squeezed normally. They were made to be cuddly-mascot material after all! The ongoing conversation isn't for her, but she's listening. She's already begun taking Lilian as a source-reference for the relevant subjects, mostly owing to her persuasive manner of speech. She looks momentarily contemplative again when Lilian speaks of first loves, inwardly glad to have an excuse not to share the unfortunate reality of that relationship aloud. She grieves for Meramera every day... Not really, but surprisingly often at least. The openminded correction on the other hand almost seems to bounce off like a ricochet, and White gently waves her hand in a fanning motion. "It's okay." she appeases, realizing she's already forgotten the original statement that Lilian's been joking about. She nods easily when her skillset is observed upon in a noncomittal agreement; it's broad on purpose, if not as much as it used to be. "You... Don't. I picked things up to patch holes in my strategy. I was born in a labyrinth, so I needed to be self-sufficient." She has to contemplate whether that's too vague, and for once decides to elaborate before she startles someone again. "... As a spider-type monster." She gestures open-hand at the spider-pile. "They aren't my children though." The eyes, though, she hesitates a moment about. Only a moment because she's been noticing her own screw-ups in hindsight; no point in perpetuating a badly kept secret. She opens her eyes slowly, while noting "... Mostly, I don't want people to attack me for them." When the hot lamplight-like warmth of her eyes' radiation touches any of the faces present, it might hint as to why. Or perhaps the ten individual pupils arranged in X's across either purple-red-pink iris might do that. "But you probably won't be intimidated, at least." she says, half-confidence and half-indifference.