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Schneider Greco      https://youtu.be/SWvv1WDwsLs

     "Schneider Greco" has existed until now only as a breathy voice on the radio. It is a girlish, smoky, peppery voice, not halting in English but still fresh from Sicily. Its owner, now, is only a long elevator ride away.

     The Elysium Apex is a place many of you have been on business, a gildedly luxurious tower to overlook the Dorado's glowing sprawl. Tonight rain pounds against its windows in sheets, making a dull howl. Even with the Dorado's climate control system, it must be allowed to rain sometimes. Otherwise the plants would die.

     Did 'Schneider' choose tonight for that reason? In 1966 the rain poured up into the sky. But here in AU33, as in 1928, it only drizzles comfortably down.

     Ding.

     "Good evening, my-lords," that voice says as the cylindrical elevator doors open.

     The lady, at last, sits on the edge of a dining table with her feet resting in a chair. She's startlingly tiny and delicate- it'd be a shock if she were even ninety pounds- and wearing an arrestable lack of clothes.

     Beautiful thin red feathers, almost like spider-lily petals provide the only solid modesty in an otherwise-gossamer-transparent flapper dress, tactically positioned to just barely obscure her chest and hips. A heavy black mobster coat hangs off her shoulders, oversized but cropped above the knee and hemmed with tassels. An oversized crimson-snakeskin handgun is held in her palms like a toy; its twin is at her hip.

     The half-dozen rough-looking men around her, in their professional suits- you know what sort of men they are- are each at least a foot taller than that dangerously dissipated dove. But, as you enter, they all half-step back and look to her.

     "Ahh, pleased to meet-?" one of them starts awkwardly, but she shushes him with one raised finger. Her hardened crooks should look sheepish about being represented by a waif, but they're a little too busy being nervy around her.

     Clack.

     Schneider slides off the dining table's edge and crosses the black-marble dining room in little sashaying steps. The oversized handgun, she twirls around her finger as if it were feather-light- good lord, why's it cocked?!-

     "What a pleas-ure, to get to know the Partners of the Concord. Whether for business or for pleasure, governors, I hope you like the spread I've set out for you," she says over the roar of rain against the windows, offering her hand to shake each in turn- and her grip is tight, but her hand almost doesn't feel solid to touch. Up close, she smells very much like oranges and a little like smoke; either tobacco or gunpowder, it's hard to say.

     The table has its own savory aura, though, and it beckons on serve-yourself rules. A bucket of unshucked oysters on ice; bottles of familiar liquor, and unfamiliar liquids with floating herbs- "Loreto, Achille, get the arancini for our guests," she says as she turns, and they bring out still-steaming golden-fried stuffed rice balls. Less appetizing, but laid out with the food: a mysterious sealed briefcase, a pair of fancy (canes? arcane wands?), a scattering of arcane reagents in containers from pure silver nuggets to strange teeth...

     It might take longer to notice them for their statue-stillness, but in the corners of the room are a pair of near-identical fancy young ladies with drippy-clawed hands and draconic heads of crystallized goo. One stands in the corner by the full-wall windows; the other by the wall with a fireplace and paintings. Schneider doesn't acknowledge them, and they don't acknowledge you.
Flamel Parsons     "Good evening! Oh, hang on a moment, I need to do something." Flamel rambles when he walks in, and then briefly zones out.



    Deep in the PARSONS INSTITUTE OF ANOMALOUS CONTAINMENT, workers in the Observation and Data department hurry quickly, ferrying cannisters from pneumatic tubes to and from complex instruments. In the Video section, a scrawny man rushes a cart of those cannisters over to thickly-spectacled workers at complex reading equipment. The workers pop one of the cannisters open, taking out a variety of hefty censor bars.

    "Do we actually need these?"
    "These are direct from the Societal Compulsions supervisor."
    "But it won't actually damage our equipment in any way."
    "Well, tell that to society."
    "We haven't gotten any responses to our feedback from them in years."
    "Look, I just work here."
    "Hmm."



    Flamel stops zoning out. "Sorry about that. Pleased to meet you! Flamel Parsons, Partner of the Concord and agent of a vague yet ominous government organization." He says, offering a handshake. Where were we? Right, he's wearing his usual MIB ensemble, which is just a little too casual to be truly formal, but it fits well enough if you're squinting. He heads in eagerly, getting a seat at the table, close enough to chat but not so close it implies much. "Happy to welcome you to our organization, especially given all the interest in your world! I've been hard at work on studying all kinds of things there."

    "It's a *varied* spread." He says, intrigued. "Tell me about the arcane materials here! That's what those are, right? I *doubt* they'd really pick up on psychic energies, but in my homeworld, we've got a good number of schools of psychic study that use focusing elements like that."

    He'll of course be getting into the food and liquors, much more casually. That, at least, is something he's already got the data on. Can he eat? Apparently, he must get something out of it.
White White arrives with the ding of the elevator's halt like anyone else, today. Even if she's been busier again the last few days, with how her own arrival and reception went it'd feel unkind not to at least show her face for a newer Partner... Or, well, that Partner's representative. Technically. It was generally good practice to treat that kind of substitute the same as you'd intend on treating their boss regardless.

     She's punctual in her usual way and dressed nicely in her usual style. For Schneider and her helpers it'd be the first time seeing White's pale silk dresses, their gentle watercolor hues, or the tall boots that she seems to insist on wearing whenever possible, but it's quite familiar to others visiting along with her. Her floor-length braid is wrapped loosely around her shoulders like a scarf again, the end trailing down the side of her chest and swaying a little when she greets Schneider's guards with a small tip of her head upon stepping out of the elevator. The end of the braid is clamped with a small gold ring, though, which seems to be new, and she's wearing her silk mantle with the hood lowered. She's not wet from the rain, owing to the umbrella she has in her spatial storage now.

     Seeing the guards step back, White lifts one boot half a step from the ground only to pause again when Schneider comes to shake hands instead. There's a moment's hesitation before she accepts, gently sliding her hand into Schneider's and barely shaking it at all; her hands certainly don't look at all as firm as her grip feels like it could be. She manages a quiet "Nice to... Meet you." and then needs another four seconds to remember to add, "White." as self-introduction. It isn't like Schneider could recognize her voice, after all.

     Admittedly, she's dreadfully curious about a few of the things in the room. The urge to ask Evil Eye-sensei for all the item lore is tempting her. But, she remembers small things like Rita's concerns, or Lilian's reactions, and keeps her eyes shut for now. Mob-types want their secrets kept to themselves, right? It'd be... Unfortunate, if examining them on impulse now led to problems later when they found out about the Evil Eye. She can wait, for now. If the closed-eye gaze she turns around the room starts to bother them, at least she's trying to be polite, right?

So, for now while she's taking in the sights, she tries to get a cue about whether this is a sit-down or a stand-up meeting, and walks to the table to sample something small and bite-sized. She's not really able to be 'hungry', but turning down food is a crime she's not willing to commit, and poor manners besides. In the meantime, those crystal-headed women have part of her attention... Even without the Evil Eye, she can draw some assumptions about them. They seem calm though... Very different from what she encountered back in 1966 while chasing Regulus. She still remembers the chill of being splattered with those ray-monsters' fluids. It'd been a while since she made that much of a mess of something alive, that all she could think was 'when can I have a bath?'

If Flamel's questions draw results, she's curious enough to listen to that as well though. Not secretively; she's at least halfway looking in that direction.
Audrey Basque     Audrey looked forward to meeting Schneider, though the last few days had kept her in an anxious slump. It was a bit last minute for her to find something to wear, an all too common problem; something nice, proper, but not too stiff. This isn't a shareholders meeting... but it's pretty important? Like, meeting a new Partner over fancy dinner, and...

    She'll find something!

    And so she did, eventually; a nice one-piece dress, that ends a bit over the knees; the sleeves and collar area are a bit lacy and transparent, the whole of it a very dark blue to black gradient, with the faint imagery of a starry sky visible across the whole pattern, though not fully. Matching boots go up to her knees, and she's accessorized with golden crescent moon earrings and a blue ribbon in her hair, which is loose rather than drilled up. It enhances (and matches) her eyes, those half-blue half-golden little night skies.

    On her way in, she greeted everyone politely; no fancy introduction, just a statement of facts: "Audrey Basque, Concord Partner. It's nice to finally meet you." Handshake and all, of course. She didn't have any spunk or pride to spare for more, right now! Alas. At least she didn't come in either her school uniform or her Librarian uniform, so, that's a win...?

    Her eyes are attracted to the various liquids on display; some she's not familiar with, and then... reagents of all kinds? Surely that's the only explanation for there being silver nuggets and teeth about.

    Her curiosity is more piqued by the draconic twins, though; those masks (if they are masks) aren't like the ones she saw in London, and so she has to ask: "Would it be rude to ask about your entourage?" The motion she makes pretty implicitely means 'those two in the corner', not the entourage of mobsters. She wonders, at least, if they're meant to be protection for Schneider, or if they're also here to dine. Or to be observers?
Petra Soroka     Now that Petra is a less-than-new member of the Concord, it's important that she treat the introduction of a *new* Partner with the proper gravitas. She's not *really* one for the corporate aspect of it all, or even really the mob politics aspect, but it's the sort of thing that she knows she *should* be better about, and so, pretends she is. It's not like her position in the City doesn't regularly demand both modes of presentation from her anyways, though she's uniquely more comfortable in the City than in the Grand Dorado solely for time spent there and, admittedly, fashion standards.

    Petra is dressed in a way that makes her muse somewhat on how much either the City influenced her fashion sense over 10000 (plus two!) years, or how well-situated her tastes already were to fit in with the City. She's wearing a white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow and top button undone (obviously), with a black waistcoat accented with silver metal and suit pants, along with the ever present black leather collar with a gold lily ornament. She sort-of-almost comes across as being aesthetically similar to the mob goons present, in the sort of bizarro world that allows someone like Schneider to be a mob boss at least.

    She arrives along with Angela, but the moment the elevator door opens, she startles to a stop and falls a step behind her. She shields her eyes with a hand, fingers slightly opened to peek through nervously. "Er-- sorry, I didn't-- uh, you're... oh, it's okay...?"

    Well, if she's *meant* to be dressed like that, then Petra's a big girl. She'll survive. She's seen nakeder women than this! On semi-frequent occurances! She's not some *blushing virgin*! And this sort of energy is par for the course in the Concord anyways.

    She's even normal about giving her a handshake after braving that momentary fright. "Hey. It's, uh, Petra. Welcome to the Concord."

    Petra's glued right back to Angela's side after that, out of necessity to minimize psychic strain, but also so that she can encourage her to try some of the rarer new treats in the spread of food. "Oh, you should try some oysters, Ange-- they're shitty sometimes, but I mean, this is the Dorado, so I bet they're good. Hey, we haven't tested whether alcohol does anything to you yet... though maybe this isn't the time."

    "Anyways," Petra turns back to Schneider. The goo-masked goons are, to her, indistinguishable from the goons whose faces were removed by Schneider shushing them, so she's only got one point of interest right now. "I picked up the general gist of things from, like, paying attention, but what kind of specific goals are you and the Manus Vindictae working on now?"
Madeleine Cadrasteia     Madeleine doesn't go to the Apex very often, but when she does she makes sure to dress up. Today she's dressed more for Schneider's era than anything else: long black sequined dress, a black feather boa, and silk elbow gloves with matching fur trim. She's not even armed, instead carrying a black folding fan in one hand. Her hair is adorned with a silver ornament in the shape of a stylized leaping fox.

    "Whether for business or for pleasure, governors, I hope you like the spread I've set out for you."

    "Some of both, I should hope," Madeleine says as she shakes Schneider's hand and smiles softly. Turning her attention to the table spread, she spies a bottle of amaretto and lights up a little despite herself. "Is that Disaronno Riserva? Yes, this will do nicely..." She saunters just a little too eagerly over to the liquors and pours herself a rocks glass of the stuff.

    She's halfway to the oysters when she spies the arrangement of teeth, and is so distracted that she nearly runs into someone with her drink. Leaning in a little to examine them, she murmurs to herself: "Carnivore, three to four centimeters, minuscule serrations..." Then, to Schneider: "What manner of creature produced these teeth? They're remarkable-quality specimens. I'd love to meet the owner of that one," she says with a point to the largest on display.
Angela Angela can't mope forever. Eventually, she has to act and move on.

She didn't really mind the rain. Indeed, walking through the rain was on Angela's bucket list and so she sees no reason to carry an umbrella for herself. Time has only just begun to move forward for her, she has no intention of sending her body back ever again.

This is a first meeting with a Partner and while Petra has to come along with her by necessity, and Audrey is sure to be coming as well, she feels it important to bring along someone whose character class purely resides in the minion status rather than being both minion and Partner. Purely for the sake of presentation and decorum and to inform Schneider Greco--and no doubt the Manus Vindictae she is working alongside--that she is also someone who has people working for her who are--well--Angela wouldn't call them disposable. But she wouldn't call them nearly as special as Petra or Audrey. She's feeling a little odd about Roland right now and she doesn't want to trust Parker on 'making a good impression' and so she has brought Haschen along because she seems the most bullyable. She has not informed Haschen that she's the sacrificial bunny for today.

"I think the Agents in Hydrochoeria are adapting really great, I really believe in them, so it's no problem at all for me to spend some time helping you out too, Lady Angela!" Haschen babbles happily. She is still wearing the Rabbit Training Dummy EGO which makes her look like she's wearing a crash test dummy with bunny ears. She on her own initiative brought an umbrella which she is holding over Angela's head, though sometimes Angela steps ahead of it so she can feel the water on her head.

Angela is dressed wearing a long purple dress with thin straps with the only indication her EGO is with her is the brooch with black raven feathers sprouting out of it. She's wearing black high heeled shoes and has a purse over one shoulder which has nothing in it. In her arms is a long rectangular black case that looks like it could hold a tommy gun.

As they arrive, Angela stops suddenly when Petra does. She's getting better abotu that. She looks back to Petra and waits until she nods to her, "It's alright." She steps in after and adds, "I will try oysters, if it is your suggestion, Eonni." She smiles and bobs her head at White, though doesn't press her at the moment.

Angela's gaze travels towards the large men who seem to be wholly at Schneider's beck and call. Her lip twists slightly in a smile as she turns her gaze back to Schneider.

Angela's eyes slant at Haschen and she startles a bit before saying, "I-introducing Lady Angela of the Library...!"

Angela gives her a small nod before adding, "The pleasure is mine, Miss Schneider." Angela says. " Her eyes flick briefly towars the Manus Vindictae agents but it's not even for a second. Angela has looked at them for too long.

She already knows what goo means. She should remain six feet apart at minimum just as a matter of good protocol and farther than that is ideal.

"I have come bearing a gift for you." Angela says. "It may seem premature because this is our first true meeting, but considering the limited time I thought I'd skip the song and the dance."

She approaches Schneider, extending the black case and--"My appetite is limited due to the nature of how far I have yet to go, so please take no offense if I eat sparingly."--setting the it on the table by her. She goes to the troble of opening it up herself and...
Angela ...Inside is black feathered umbrella with an orange and sharp poined tip like a beak. The handle is strange. Though still curved like with most umbrellas, it appears to the foot and talons of a bird.

"This is called the Black Swan. It is a weapon derived from the story of one who sought to protect her siblings even as she was twisted into a monstrous form. It is also an umbrella. As it is raining, I thought it might be nice to provide you with some cover once you returned home. I hope it carries you through many a storm."
Kukuru One of the many arriving to formally welcome the lady known as Schneider Greco is a green-haired woman, brushed and straightened out (mostly) neatly save for a few stray strands here and there, with large drills sticking right out of her head where her ears should be. Although she may not be known to the lady behind the elevator doors and her suited companions, Kukuru's a relatively familiar face around the Elysium Apex and certainly recognizable to many in the Concord by now.

Today, she's dressed in a blue-green halter dress that emphasizes her bust and hips quite a bit, and a silver-rimmed monocle is worn over her left eye with a thin chain looping around her left drill/horn. Like with her usual glasses, the lens is perfectly flat.

"Good eveniiing..." She speaks up in return, smiling both brightly and groggily as she sees the source of the voice along with so many of Schneider's lovely friends nearby. It's entirely possible she might be recognized just from those two words alone, what with that combination of light and airy gentleness combined with the incredibly specific breathy tone that only comes from someone trying not to yawn in the middle of saying something.

Hearing Schneider perfectly even with the rain's noise coming through, Kukuru's smile grows a little wider and considerably warmer during the handshake. "Oh, I'm sure the spread will be wonderful, dear. Aaah, it's so good to meet you finally, Schneider~" She replies in her usual affable tone, cupping her hands over Schneider's gently while returning the handshake and swaying their hands from side to side like she's just happy to be there.

Kukuru's smell is definitely on the grill-ier side, with all sorts of meat and seasoning scents lingering around her along with a bit of blood and seawater mixed in.

Seeing the food laid out and brought out, it's pretty clear from Kukuru's slight pupil-dilation that she's eager to dig in, but she remembers her manners and makes sure to thank Loreto and Achille with light pats on the hands in passing. "Thank you, dears... Ah, I didn't know you brought chef friends with you, too. That's so great... Are these all family?" She asks, looking from the two to the rest of the crooks in Schneider's group, then towards the two ladies with the clawed hands and gooey heads.

Somehow, that gets Kukuru's eyes to gleam just a little more. "Oh, you've got those, too..?" She asks with an amused little giggle, raising an oversized steel claw to wiggle the digits in greeting. She definitely wasn't wearing that when she arrived, but her dress doesn't appear to have any pockets.

Her mind does come back to work before long, though, and the briefcase and canes in particular. "Soooo... What're these for, Schneider? Are these foooor... A demonstration, a presentation, or something else? Or..." She clams up for a few seconds, then snaps her fingers with her non-clawed hand. "Decoration?"
Sarracenia      As Princess Sarracenia rides the elevator upward she ponders the irony that it feels to her as if she has had much more social interaction now that she is disfigured than she ever did before. It is perhaps the fourth or fifth time ever that she has been invited to someone's home on a social call. Her visit to Merelisa Shaynore makes up another of those times, and that happened within the year.

     As such, she wants to make a good impression. The princess has worn her most refined and modest princess dress. Black of course, as is her current preferred color, with a starfield of silver flowing from the right shoulder to the left hip. The shoulders are of proper poofiness. The dress and her gloves leave not a bit of skin visible below her neck. She even put on a bit of jewelry since this is not expected to be a battle. Gold earrings with rubies set into them to match her crown, and a somewhat gaudy gold pendant with a fist-sized ruby set in it. Some of those present might recognize it as a family heirloom the princess showed off at her gala several months back. She has also brought her personal butler, Gregory the piranha plant. Sarra wants it to be clear that she is a prim and proper princess and not some brute or goon.

     So, when the doors open to Schneider's room...Sarra ends up letting out a squeak as her face turns red from Schneider's choice of attire and she bites her bottom lip to keep from letting words that would surely be insulting escape her. Her gaze tries to land anywhere but on their hostess, something that is obvious even with her right eye still covered by a black sash-like eyepatch. The one blue eye that is visible darts about the room. Gregory is likely also staring, but he has always been nearly unshakable and inscrutable. In no small part thanks to having no apparent eyes and a big bulb-like head full of shark-like teeth. He merely urges the princess forward when she freezes up in the elevator, causing her to eep softly and stumble forward on her inch-high heeled slippers while stammering in emphatic whispers. "...h-hey what are you...G-Gregory stop th-...I am not re-...!!"

     Once she is off the elevator and Gregory has stopped pushing her forward the princess is once again standing as stiffly as a statue. But, with a bit of the shock gone she is able to take in the environment. And as she does a slight frown appears on her face along with an air of suspicion. This feels like a villain's lair. The uniformed men following the small waif, the outfit she is wearing, the way one of them shushes immediately at the raise of a finger even though he was trying to be polite. Sarra's one eye follows that gun as Schneider approaches them while twirling it.

     Sarra is offered a handshake. She hesitates for a moment before taking the offered hand. Handshakes are not standard royal protocol. "Ah...it seems to be a fine 'spread'." Sarra says, saying the word with a bit of extra emphasis as one might expect from a somewhat snobby person saying a slang word. "I am Princess Sarracenia Sundew, Crown Princess of the Sundew Kingdom." she says as she shakes Schneider's hand. The princess's grip is also quite firm. And she holds the grip for a bit longer as she adds, "And aspiring heroine." in a quite obvious bait to see how this person who at first glance seems like a mob princess or boss might react. Now that they are engaging, Sarra can't quite hold her tongue anymore. "...that is quite a...bold outfit. The coat was a good choice. To compliment it, of course."

     Gregory also introduces himself with a proper bow, one hand held in front and one behind even if his leaf-hand is shaken. "And I am Gregory, my lady. Personal butler to the Sundew Princess." he says, his voice a deep and regal tone as one might expect of royal butlers.
Sarracenia
     When food and drink is presented Sarra wanders around the table idly inspecting the items. She takes note of the 'statues' but doesn't think them anything other than that for a long moment. When she does realize they are people she blinks a few times and stares, then looks to Schneider. "...are they...alright? Why are they standing there like that?" she asks. "Perhaps they are something like honor guards, your highness?" Gregory offers in reply.
White White returns Angela's little headbob, mirroring the smile at about 5% intensity. Hey, at least she can kind of do it without looking like a ghoul now! She must have practiced. Seeing Angela give Schneider a gift, though, seems to remind White of something. She holds onto it for now, perhaps waiting for an appropriate moment or a natural segue... Or just for conversation to fall flat enough that her little murmurs don't get drowned out. It does mean Schneider has more of her direct attention though while White waits for her opportunity, and not for the unfortunate, usual reasons that might be the case.

White hasn't really taken note of Schneider's state of dress at all, it seems like. When people dress scarcely, it seems there's a threshhold below which White stops acknowledging the clothes or lack thereof at all. Schneider will thereby be getting neither judgement nor compliments on her look... It's just her character design, after all. It'd be like commenting on how White doesn't change her outfit for fancy meetings unless someone tells her to. And those are just special occassions anyway, she has to stick to her theme until she has some kind of huge timeskip training arc, at least! ... Wait, what was she thinking about again?
Natsuki Nuki Natsuki Nuki had been interested in the smoky-voiced but oddly deferential Schneider Greco, of a lord Forget-Me-Not and the Walden. It wasn't often, to Natsuki's understanding, that a party was represented by a proxy-Partner, and that the proxy didn't become the Partner by effective default. The most recent and loudest one had been Angela, but there had been other cases of presences-behind-the-throne unfortunately failing to reveal themselves properly and the evil royal who had become socially woven into the fabric of the collective dream of the mob bosses and corporate climbers and the ruthless ascenders that comprised a part of the Partner-whole took the choice between who they knew and some mystery force with a heavy lean.

Natsuki, herself, had come to her understandings about Schneider's organization from a different venue: interest in London's unravelling and the world of 'Arcanists'. She had thought, after being vaguely deflected and then meeting a flying apple with tiny little arms and a bow tie and what she thought of as 'The' Scarecrow, and through interacting with the St. Pavlov Foundation's forms-and-greeters, that Arcanists were mystical bloodlines.

And,
    not,
        something else...

Then a terrible no-good it-was-now-tropical-storming-in-Osaka kind of conversation crashed the Golden Caterpillar proprietress' mood. She had muted herself to howl "What do you MEAN? It can't just be--" at a terrified set of eavesdropping yakuza lieutenants led by her brown-haired brother collectively listening to their boss' chatty calls with the multiversal elite for clues or tidbits. Takeshi had escaped when Natsuki had started shouting and throwing things with the headset cradled, and now was leading the morale support fire suppression team... just as soon as he could hear an opening. He had not heard an opening until Osaka was banished to the pouring rain dimension.

Ironic, perhaps, that it was also raining today, but Natsuki was regularly in the mood for rain. Wearing a layered white plastic-framed hooded jacket with heavily stylized black trim and markings and even clear layers seeing into metallic gold inner lining and black fiber lining, a north-of-knees black skirt and a fashionably askew white button-down shirt that Natsuki has cleverly forgotten the top four buttons' use. Atop her platinum blond-haired head is a black and orange-gold Hanshin Tigers baseball cap, at a high angle so it doesn't flatten her round orange-fuzzed tiger ears, and on her feet are a pair of platform Converse in violently Tigers orange team socks. Otherwise presenting as a 5'9" (without platforms) Osakan woman with a dark-ring eyemask bridged over nose like a permanent domino mask and sharp red vertical-slit eyes, the fashionable 'Lady Nue' rides the elevator with the rest of the arriving Partner party. The rain only aiding her walked in off the street in Shinjuku look, but the scowl she thinks isn't visible on her face throws the mood off partially. The evil serpent springing as a tail from her and peeking from low angle, meanwhile, is exceptionally bored in an elevator where nothing is happening but terrible vibes and social injustice, but perks up once the doors go 'ding!' and tastes the savory air while Natsuki gets her first look at Schneider.
Natsuki Nuki r
And starts peeling off her jacket with a low throat-caught-thrush twitter of a chuckle that blooms into a big sharp-toothed grin. "You've caught me overdressed for the occasion, Miss Greco, and what a table you've prepared!"

Strutting right over to the magical ingredients, Natsuki ends up besides Kukuru, but with them spread out on the table she's a lot more audacious to extending a black-nailed pinch of index and thumb to pinch and sniff the materials to get a finer and more expert appraisal. She knew it better by scent--

As evidenced by the skirt-shift by her tail going up-over-the-table with spade-head to oversight both savory food *and* the potent potables that had been tabled with an onyx flick of tongue and a surveil of sinister-red eyes.
Timespace Riders      "How enchanting to meet you," says Woz upon his entry. "I am pleased to present his Sougo Tokiwa, the future Demon King of Time."

    The Demon King himself looks no more especially imposing or demon-like than Schneider does; nevertheless, Woz bows at the waist and gestures with a two-handed sweep towards Sougo. While the retainer is dressed as he always is, Sougo has come to the dinner party dressed in a pink blazer with a matching bowtie over an oxford blue dress shirt, which, for once, fits him appropriately. His tailored slacks are an equally bold but not-clashing aquamarine, and the most conservative color on display is on his leather dress shoes. His hair is a gently swept auburn mop over soft, friendly features which alight at the sight of his host and her entourage. "Hi! I'm Sougo," he says, with a little wave. "This is my retainer, Woz."

    Woz rises, only to offer a slight bow at the waist to Schneider.

    Sougo takes a gin and tonic with a spritz of lime and a little bitters; Woz opts for bourbon, neat, unless there's a wine that pairs well with the selection; white for the oysters or red for any main dishes.

    "The brown on your arancini is exquisite," Woz opines of the stuffed rice. "Your chef clearly has the patience necessary for the dish." After a bite, he further opines, "And the insistence on quality ingredients, as well."

    "It's really good!"

     Petra, Angela, and Natsuki in particular get glowing smiles from Sougo and pleased little humu-nods from Woz.
Schneider Greco      "White."
     "I see," Schneider says, and then after half a beat covers her mouth to giggle: "Oh! With the runaway little omu d'onore. You should keep them off the phone. Someone might teach them unseemly things?"

     White's eyes being closed is recontextualized by Petra peeping through her fingers. Schneider lifts her eyebrows and frowns, pointlessly lifting the edge of her mob-boss jacket as if she were suggestively hiking a skirt. "Am I really so offensive to your eyes, my lords...?"

     Natsuki, though, cools her from that little put-out smolder. Schneider draws in her arms and wiggles side-to-side with a breathy almost-laugh: "Oh, the Lady Nue!" (She still doesn't get the ending-sound quite right.) "I had heard you run your own, ah, won-der-ful est-ab-lish-ment. I hope this is to your standards, though I did not find time to ask your advice." The serpent-tail gets a little "mhm-hm?" slightly-crouching questioning greeting, like Schneider's been approached by an odd pet.

     Sarra and Gregory, of course, get raised eyebrows.
     "Oh, the hell is that thing...?"
     "Straighten up, Cosimo. Maybe it's an Awakened."
     "Ech... sorry. Boss...?"
     "Behave," she says, pressing in with an elbow-against-chest lean to intervene against their conspiring. Brightly looking back: "Oh, I have never kept company with royalty before?"

     "Ah, and twice in one day..." It's easy to tell that, for the first couple of seconds of eyeing Sougo and Woz, Schneider is politely hiding being a little less interested in them than in the women. Then she soaks up the full impact of Sougo's fashion, widens her eyes a little, looks between the two of them, and reevaluates. "A pleasure to meet you, my lords. Tell me if you need a recommendation for a club," she says, smilingly and without explanation.

     She sizes up Haschen with an immediately almost-predatory glint, but her smile becomes innocent when she turns it on Angela a second later. Following to the table: "A gift? Just for me, Lady Angela?" she says, stretching the vowels melodically. She follows to the table, but her eyes stray from the case.

     "Are these all family?"
     Schneider's goons glance among themselves. One chuckles. Schneider shakes her head: "Lady Kukuru, there is, ah... a great difference, between the family and la famiglia. But each of these men owes me something." They don't especially like to be reminded of that. Her gaze won't let them forget.

     Great news: Flamel's MIB ensemble fits right in with Schneider's suit-wearing toughs! Bad news: "... Boss, did that guy just say he's a fed?" She barely looks back: "Achille, the governors make the best associates. Just... leave the thinking to me."

     "And what has your study of the Storm, my lord, uncovered?" Schneider says to Flamel, tracing her way around the table to pluck an arancina from its platter. Munch. (Even though her men haven't sat down, it seems you're invited to.)

     >about the dragon-headed women
     Under examination, the two oozy 'guards' move subtly, returning gazes. One even, uncertainly, waves back at Kukuru. It's hard to tell if they're like withdrawn humans, or well-trained animals, but they certainly aren't like robots. "Them? They are dis-patched by Lord Forget-Me-Not, to ensure my safety," she says while chewing, with a note of disdain.

     Within ten seconds of meeting Schneider, it's already hard to imagine her wanting to be protected by anyone else. You don't get that look in your eyes by hiding behind anyone, or anything.
Schneider Greco      >about the reagents
     "I think that's from a lindwurm, my-lady," Schneider says of the tooth, but without much interest. "Arcane reagents are used in, ah, potions and rituals... such things are not my strengths; I prefer the wands," she says, letting her red handgun dangle from a finger demonstratively. "Lord Forget-Me-Not traffics in the reagents, for the Manus and for his drinks; should you need such things as pure silvers and essences of fears-" one of the containers of teeth starts to vibrate, before she presses down on its lid with the barrel of her handgun- "-we can sell as well as buy. Would this appeal to any of you, my lords?"

     This is pretty good stuff, to anyone with the senses for it, although it occupies an odd middle-point in tradition- half the reagents are symbolically important, half of them alchemically important, and many in-between, as if nobody can make up their minds whether it's the substance or the history that matters.

     Speaking of the drinks: the unfamiliar, potion-like beverages have labels claiming that they are assorted, more familiar kinds of alcohol, down to individual vintages. Anyone who tries them discovers that they transmute in the mouth, becoming exactly the kind of drink claimed- flavor, intoxication, and all.

     As the crisped stuffed-rice-balls dwindle, another of her suited men (Cosimo, to anyone keeping track) vanishes into a side-room and re-emerges with a large cubed swordfish-and-eggplant pasta dish; following a gesture of Schneider's head, he starts to serve the table clockwise, starting at Natsuki. "Ah... I know this place has world-class catering," he says to Kukuru with a little pride, "but we did all this ourselves. I mean, I picked this one up from my grandparents. How'm I supposed to trust for sure they'd get it right?"

     He and Achille both puff up when the arancini is praised and give Woz their firmest nods. Aw, kinda cute.

     Still, there's something in the way Schneider interacts with her men. They respect her (even if that embarrasses them); they obey her; they even seem to like her a bit... but whenever they start to form a social center without her, she so deliberately cuts it off or intrudes, placing herself at its center again. As if, were they all united, they'd cast her out.

     She isn't, they know- for so many reasons- someone they should be taking orders from. She wields them lightly anyway.

     At last, her attention's drawn back to Angela's opening case; she stands again to peep inside. Schneider gasps softly, and then laughs, happily but with a note of something else too. "An umbrella, Lady Angela? Ah... you have a sense of humor. It will not protect me from the Storm, will it? But as a weapon..."

     She picks it up, and all her men instinctively take a step back. Turning it over in her hands, Schneider takes a deep breath, shuts her eyes, and... walks along the dining table's length, to the window-wall where the torrential rain beats down, and opens a door onto the modest glass-railed balcony. Immediately she's soaked.

     Why in the world would she step out there? Maybe the compulsion just seized her. Schneider, light as a feather, can be blown about by any little urge. "Boss, wait! Your rigatoni...?"
Schneider Greco      But Schneider is climbing up onto the railing, and standing on its two-inch-wide edge, and only then opening her new black umbrella with a delighted little sigh. She holds it in one hand; her gun still dangling from the fingers of the other; parting the curtain of the rain, she turns to face the party and put the howling dozens-of-stories drop behind her.

     "Ahhhhh~... the goals of the Manus in this era--" "Boss?! Schneider!!" "--are quite boring, my lords. To take and profit from this world that will endlessly renew..." "Get down already!!" "... to ensure the Storm takes the Foundation at the worst time, and to take more Arcanists into our safety..."

     She beams, finally relenting- but only to sit on the harrowing edge, rather than to stand. The umbrella twirls lightly in her hand. "All of it is, ah, a little boring to me? But I think I will like you all very, very much. Thank you. Please, how can I be of help to you?"
Petra Soroka "I really believe in them, so it's no problem at all for me to spend some time helping you out too, Lady Angela!"

    Petra asides to Angela, talking above Haschen's head like she's a dog who can't understand them, "She might not literally work for you anymore, but she really is so underling-coded anyways. Like, the kind that everyone roots for even though you know she'll die gruesomely to give the villains pathos."

"Would it be rude to ask about your entourage?"

    Audrey is also here, and though Petra is stressed out by everything about her and feels complicated (negative) about being around her, she is also the one person Petra knows was around for the stuff with the Manus Vindictae before, and also Petra is needy for company no matter how badly she feels about it. She pokes a pinky in the direction of the draconic masked goons, keeping her voice somewhat low to not be rude, but not really 'secretive'.

    "That's what you meant about the ones you saw before, right?"

"I-introducing Lady Angela of the Library...!"

    Petra folds her arms across her chest and pouts, and then after Haschen is done with the announcement and attention's moved off her, Petra gives her a poke in the middle of the forehead hard enough to teeter her offbalance. "I've just decided that you should've introduced me too. I own the island you live on, you know? Angela first, though, obviously." She's kind of just fucking around with her.

"My appetite is limited due to the nature of how far I have yet to go, so please take no offense if I eat sparingly."

    Petra is still invested in making sure Angela enjoys the selection despite her limitations, and she's trying to route it out for optimal consumption in her head. "Okay... I think you *should* have a little bit of wine, like, just for pairing... I don't know enough to say which, but it's the spirit of the thing. And then you can have a couple oysters with that, we'll split a rice ball, and then...."

"You've caught me overdressed for the occasion, Miss Greco, and what a table you've prepared!"

    This is really the most correct environment that Natsuki has ever been in. Petra stares at her outfit for a few seconds in order to file it away in the pinterest board of her mind-- not that Petra would model it exactly, but she's thought for a while that she underuses the bat-wielding punk category of presentation, and Natsuki spiritually embodies it. Sougo and Woz also get smiles from her, though hers is decidedly weaker than his. She's not feeling any more complicated towards them than usual, she's just too ambiently stressed to 'beam' back.
Audrey Basque     More or less everyone who arrives gets some kind of wave, hello or smile from Audrey, of course; she's not brimming with energy, but she's not about to be rude either! WHITE gets a smile and a wave, which she's certainly not obligated to verbally respond to. ANGELA gets a bit of an admiring gaze from Audrey, in the obvious sense that it's rare she sees Angela wearing something that isn't her usual outfit. KUKURU gets the warm hello, though SARRACENIA gets a much more casual wave by comparison. NATSUKI gets a wave and a, "I managed to save and clean that blazer of yours, if you want it back. I owe you for that."

    SOUGO and WOZ get a 'hello again, your majesty, and Woz', because she still wasn't totally sure how to address a DEMON KING OF TIME, while FLAMEL gets a very normal hi and wave, along with Madeleine, whom she barely knows! Which leaves PETRA, who gets a much more reserved but meaningful, "How dapper. The City's style really agrees with you, huh?"

    Well, that, and 'by Petra' is where Audrey will sit, when and if she does, in what is surely the world's most predictable statement.

"That's what you meant about the ones you saw before, right?"

    Audrey whispers to Petra, in response: "Oh. No. Their masks were different-- I-- forgot to show you, didn't I? Remind me when we leave. They were a lot smaller, like, hands, and only went over the eyes. These are..." Obviously not that! Are they even masks at all?

"Am I really so offensive to your eyes, my lords...?"

    Audrey, who has in fact been averting her gaze from directly looking at Schneider, and who continues to do so without being as blatant about it as Petra *somehow*, awkwardly composes a response along the lines of: "N-Not... offensive, but I'm sure we could get used to your, unique, fashion." No actually Audrey probably could not, but she'll do her best.

"Them? They are dis-patched by Lord Forget-Me-Not, to ensure my safety,"

    "You sound unhappy about that. Well, I won't pry. I understand completely the want for safety when meeting Partners for the first time. I was... very on-edge, as well, the first few I met." The first few she met being Petra Soroka, Terrorist, and Angela, who had just ripped a man's limbs off. Yeah all things considered it went as well as it could have!!

"Ahhhhh~... the goals of the Manus in this era--"

    Petra goes right to business, and Audrey helps herself to half a glass of one of those odd transmuting drinks. Finding it to be an agreeable and rich wine, she mms, pointing it out to Petra and Angela specifically. "Oh, you have to try this one. I think it's magical?"

    But, business.

    "Bluntly, the Foundation doesn't seem all that interested in protecting Arcanists from the Storm, unless they're willing to join and surrender personal freedoms to them. So-- I'm glad Manus Vindictae is stepping up, at least." Well, she's biased, and opinionated. "It may be presumptuous to ask so soon, but I'd love to get a look t one of your shelters, down the line. One of my specialties is the manipulation of space-- and of boundaries, places of power, nexuses... magical shelters included."

"All of it is, ah, a little boring to me?"

    "But, if you don't mind me asking," Audrey goes for it, "If you find their goals... boring? What is it you hope to accomplish? Business? I'd love to look at some of your goods," She would, actually! "And I may have a job you can help with, but that one can wait until after this." Not for free, obviously, but the dinner table is no place for that, and it's not a grand job.
Timespace Riders "Hi, Audrey! How's your workshop coming along?"

     Tell me if you need a recommendation for a club.

    "Oh, fun!" Sougo enthuses. "I'm always looking for more places to take Woz."

    Woz clears his throat. "Sire..."

    "He loves to cook for me," Sougo continues, undaunted. "So sometimes it's hard to convince him to go out somewhere, but he always comes back in a good mood."

    The retainer does smile to himself about that.

They are dis-patched by Lord Forget-Me-Not, to ensure my safety.

    "It seems like you'd rather Forget-Me-Not didn't," Sougo gently prompts. He picked up on the note of disdain. And the large handguns. On that note, he doesn't speak out or startle in his seat when Schneider takes Angela's gift and balances on the railing in the rain. He watches, with wide-eyed curiosity--though the same can't be said for his retainer, who arches a brow and scans the room.

Please, how can I be of help to you?

    Woz purses his lips, as if the hair-raising balancing act on the balcony were merely a point of order to move past. "My Demon King is embroiled in a contest for the throne," he says. "Material goods are not unwelcome, but may be a bit premature, here in the present before his ascension, where there are not yet royal treasurers to allocate them or projects on which to spend them."

    Sougo nods, as he gently cuts little bites from the eggplant-and-swordfish dish. "In fact," he says, "If you're bored here, you'd probably get a kick out of helping me in the present! Um, a lot of the people I'm up against are time travelers, and all of them tend to send monsters after me or turn people against me. I have a feeling you'd rather be out, and, you know... doing stuff, and you'll get lots of opportunities for that with me."
White White reacts to Schneider's concern with plain confusion, tilting her head slightly to the right. She really doesn't get what the question is about, but mumbles a little "No?" anyway. It takes her a few more seconds to hazard an attempt at disarming the concern, complimenting "Your hair is... Very nice." She lifts a finger and makes a little U-shaped swoosh with it beside her forehead, trying to indicate the curls. Ostensibly she can see the coat-lift, but her attention is still so squarely on Schneider's face that it probably doesn't help with the misunderstanding much... But at least now there's a hint that White can still see her with her eyes shut. Or that she has some kind of echolocation or something, who knows what the other woman's imagination might come up with?

She remembers the nickname Schneider used before for her 'agents' though, and turns her hand over palm-up to let one of her spiders crawl out of her sleeve into it like a pet hamster. It lifts one foreleg and wiggles it in a wave! "They'll be... Okay." she quietly assures. Slowly, she tries to insist, "Spider life... Is hard." You know, like a gangster's! Maybe..?

     Once it's clear that they're not meant to stand around the table forever, White gently pulls a chair out from the table and slides into it. Hearing that the next dish comes from one of the men's own family recipe almost makes her seem slightly excited for a moment, in that she straightens up more and seems to be watching the server do his circuit around the table, in that way that a cat might anticipate its dinner if it weren't making noise. Even if it'll be a challenge to clean a plate, she can't just turn down a meal prepared with a three generations' strong recipe, can she? She can't, it was rhetorical. Don't underestimate grandparents' cooking, even if they're not your own grandparents!

     The stunt at the balcony railing, of course, draws her attention... But she remains seated. Some people need the ability to do stupid things in order to be themselves. Or perhaps Schneider knows she has nothing to fear in the first place, and simply enjoys riling up her help? Either way, it's not for White to fret over, and she's able to accept it rather easily. When asked how Schneider might be of help, White leads with something else entirely, though to her credit it does feel like she's aware that it's sort of a tangent, or perhaps an excuse to stall and think. Assuming her voice can surmount the rain's volume, she gently asks, "... Do you have... A favorite animal?"

White can at least give a welcoming gift like Angela, following that cue. Not anything so special of course, but a sign of good intentions... And the brief pause to work on it on the spot will be both a chance to think and a wordless explanation of what she can do as well. It's okay to show some of her cards like this, among friends and would-be friends.
Madeleine Cadrasteia     "I think that's from a lindwurm, my-lady."

    "Really? I have one of those at home! Your world's must be quite different, for their teeth to be so small..." Madeleine finally gets around to enjoying her drink as she listens to Schneider's explanation of the reagents at large. "Sell and buy, I think I'll be doing both... my passion is hunting strange creatures, I'm sure this Forget-Me-Not and I could come to an arrangement."

    "Speaking of. I was expecting him to put in an appearance tonight... will he be showing up? I have to admit some of what he's on about sounds compelling. And I should hope we're worth his time."

    Madeleine digs into her swordfish pasta with gusto - she must have had a busy day at work to have this much of an appetite. As she finishes her first portion, she looks across the table to Sougo and Woz. "You're looking well," she says. "Like, you're not..." she makes a gesture that's her best approximation of 'time-glitching into people's brains', though it may not come across well. "What's the Demon King up to lately? Found any new Riders?"
Audrey Basque "Hi, Audrey! How's your workshop coming along?"

    It takes essentially all of Audrey's willpower to not take her phone out and gossip-text Petra. Much of it!! But she's normal about hearing Sougo talk about taking Woz to places and clubs and having him cook for him and--

    "Well! It's, ah, actually mostly done. Well, to the degree that a magical workshop and research ground is ever truly complete, which is to say... it works. But I'll always want to expand."

    Or get other places. Like in China! Eventually.
Angela Angela is a little surprised Sougo still smiles at her but, she supposes, he's always been like this. That means it's something she can rely on. It's strange being around people who have existed for more than a small number of days at a time before being wiped away by, well, not something quite as complete as The Storm but still, ultimately, as obliterative of her world as it would be for Vertin's reality.

Her gaze settles on Natsuki, then trails towards Sarracenia to see if there's any wounds on the Princess that look new. Did Natsuki leave her to bake out in the sun? No it's just a normal blush. Well, ''normal''. She can't help but suspect she's simply already intimidated by Schneider.

She should invite Woz to talk to Roland about cooking, Angela thinks. "You should come by the Library sometime, Woz, I imagine you and Roland would have a lot to talk about on the matter of preparing meals."

She isn't quite ready to have her own preparation judged by Woz, but she mentally elects to add that to her bucket list as well.

''Am I really so offensive to your eyes, my lords...?''

"Of course not. It's unusual attire for The City, but you are perfectly respectable." Angela says, unbothered but assuming that it's just because Petra's grown too accustomed to seeing women in suits and slacks all day. Angela's standards for 'respectable' are probably a bit bizarre as well.

Haschen twitches like a prey animal as she senses Schneider's eyes on her and steps back when she thinks she's free only for

''poik''

"A..ah! Yes! Sorry ma'am! Um...! This is Petra, Head Librarian of the General Works, Rulers of Hydrochoeria, and supervillain, Miss--Lady Schneider!"

''I think you *should* have a little wine''

Angela drinks champagne on occassion but she says, "Ah, that is a good idea. Her associates are associated with the liquor business so I would not wish to offend by refusing." She smiles at Petra. Her presence is helping tremendously. "I would love to split a riceball with you. That sounds like a charming experience."

''Just leave the thinking to me.''

Angela reputation +1.

''A gift for me, Lady Angela?''

"Correct. Consider it a welcome gift. And a gift for my appreciation of your priorities."

''It will not protect me from The Storm, will it?''

"I am afraid not. Unless it has properties I am unaware of. I hope the Concord can offer more than just a commitment, of course, but please do not take it as mockery. I am being sincere."

''Schneider being incredibly reckless.''

She knows there's little time, Angela thinks, so why not dance on ledges while you can?

"I am glad it brings you joy. ... But as you suggested, it can act as both shield and spear." She dips her head respectfully. She isn't particularly interested in Manus Vindictae or in the battle of arcanists and everything else. But she does like Schneider. She reminds her of Natsuki in a way. Indeed, her eyes slant back to Natsuki as if she's visibly making the comparisions and the contrasts.

''A lot of the people I'm up against are time travelers.''

"Indeed. They are likely the most experienced with temporal matters amongst those of the Concord." Angela says.

''Do you have... A favorite animal?''

Angela gets where White is going with this and her bad mood drifts away as if it was never there. Yes, she thinks, don't dwell on how far you've yet to go, think of how far you've come.

She listens to the practical discussion of imporant matters but is focusing more on collecting Petra's suggested food platter.
Flamel Parsons     Quick VERY NORMAL hi and wave to Audrey, who Flamel doesn't yet know contains a treasure-trove of data that he would like to get his hands on. Wise that this is largely kept that way. Of course, he also recognizes and greets others -- Petra and Angela awkwardly, White and Madeline a little less anxiously, though mostly because Madeline hasn't found out or hasn't mentioned... Uh, hang on, has he manipulated or harmed-for-the-greater-good nearly half the girls here? Hmm. Don't think about that.

    Flamel waves to the fellow who has understandable concerns about this. "Don't worry!" He stage-whispers, one hand aside his mouth. "I'm in her pocket. She's able to help me with something I can't get help from anyone else about. It's important for an agent of a vague yet ominous government organization to have at least one criminal with ambiguous yet menacing leverage!" He explains, as if this were a common formality. And in a way it kind of is?

    As for the storm...

    Flamel settles in and draws out some displays of his own, letting his thought flow freely behind him. In this case... a grand, massive clockface fills the mental air behind him. A minute hand struggles to spin. "The Storm has many aspects, and I get the feeling the Manus Vindictae have basically told you the most important ones: People, even people who have left your world, are undone by the Storm as it activates a whole-world matter-wide process. It has a different relationship to humans than it does to arcanists. Certain things can make you safe, but those are in rarer supply. And most importantly for *me*," The clockface's hand tugs on threads, that slowly become neurons, that slowly link to clusters of brains. "Is that it comes with Storm Syndrome. That's my primary study."

    "Storm Syndrome targets and excites the psychohazards that already exist in a particular place at a particular time, through manifesting in the collective unconscious where it intersects both. In humans, the mind isn't geared to resist the psychohazards and it overwhelms them. But my theory goes that arcanists are already severely subjected to psychohazards on a daily basis due to biological causes, and they have a stronger psychological immune system as a result -- they resist the excitement significantly. We already know that too." The strands of neurons firm up, failing to jostle several brains that gleam brightly, despite the cords being thicker.

    "But *resistance* is *data*." Zoom in on that brain. "An arcanist, heavily immunized by a lifetime of exposure to a particular set of psychohazards, is someone whose brain contains both a connection to the collective unconscious of that era and place, *and* the information needed to resist it." The gleaming brain opens -- there's a hatch on it, a shimmering gears inside turn cleanly. "The Storm Syndrome of each era... I think it can be resisted, maybe *cured*. We find one person, likely an arcanist, with the correct lifetime exposure to the correct set of psychohazards from the correct time and place." The gears float around, gather behind the clock... and the hand jolts forward. "And that lets me generate a global countersignal -- or maybe, someday, better."

    "But I get the feeling," Flamel's little display dismisses, zipping back into his skull. "That Manus Vindictae might be my best chance to locate and get into the minds of arcanists who are most-vulnerable-to yet least-affected-by the Storm. Let's call this hypothetical being... the Eye of the Storm! My goal is to work with you on that, if you'll have me." He beams. "And learn everything I can about the Storm Syndrome. Everything else is second to that."
Petra Soroka "Am I really so offensive to your eyes, my lords...?"

    "Ack-- n-no, that's not what I--?" Petra hastily pulls her hand back down to her side, only to avert her eyes to the side by habit anyways. Being essentially demanded to look at a mostly-undressed woman she's just met-- or else risk being offensive, or worse, a Loser-- creates a diseased concoction of neural impulses in her mind that immediately makes her ten times weirder about looking at Schneider.

    "You look-- look good. Like, it's an energy. I get that. It's cool-- great, even, I just-- I mean, you know, playing it safe? Like, what if, you-- you know? That's all. Nothing's wrong. Women can wear anything."

"The City's style really agrees with you, huh?"

    Petra sighs and slumps, trying to mentally reset from the embarrassing moment. She tugs at the open collar of her shirt (though it isn't as daringly open as Natsuki's), and looks at Audrey with her lips pursed, passively tense. "Yeah, I mean, we're both well aware of how I dress."

"They were a lot smaller, like, hands, and only went over the eyes."}

    Petra tries to imagine what a mask made of hands that covers just your eyes would look like. Several seconds later, she hisses air in through her teeth and whispers back to Audrey. "Isn't that *horny* though?? That's, like, super perverse. Did they do it on purpose?"

"-we can sell as well as buy. Would this appeal to any of you, my lords?"

    "Man. I can't do any kind of magic myself, even though a lot of people around me can." Petra murmurs 'essence of fears' under her breath, and then that reminds her that someone else might be interested. "Oh, but my secretary might have some evil shit she'd wanna do with them, or at the very least, if you're buying, then she might have a portal directly to hell that she farms tortured souls out of or whatever. ... That's probably a joke, but she's definitely got plenty of weird arcane shit she can sell, at least."

"And I should hope we're worth his time."

    Petra huffs aside at Madeleine, catching her implication but still puffing up like an annoyed cat. "Any man should be more worried about whether *he's* worth *my* time. But, I mean, he is a Partner, so...."

"Ahhhhh~... the goals of the Manus in this era--"

    Schneider clambering onto the railing and making a breathy declaration in the rain evokes the most sincere smile Petra's made since arriving, though it's still a little faint. Standing on top of high-up slippery objects and shouting is a natural instinct that Petra understands extremely well. In order to hear Schneider, Petra stands to the side of the balcony, leaning against the interior of the doorframe with her arms crossed while the rain pelts her.

    "Hell yeah. So what're *you* doing, then? I mean, what's a person in your position gunning for *besides* profiting?" Petra twirls her finger around, and a couple drops of morphmetal swirl around and flatten into a shield to cover her glass of wine from the rain, while she herself steadily gets soaked. "I mean, just given like, what I assume your set of skills to be, I could probably use your help in the City. You do assassinations, right?"
Sarracenia      'Am i really so offensive to your eyes, my lords...?'

     "It is not that you look offensive in the outfit, Lady Schneider." Sarra says, opting for lady since Schneider seems to be someone of high rank from her world, "It is just that such a style is considered a bit..." Sarra tries to think of a word that isn't too insulting. "...-too- bold in most places." Sarra has still been trying not to look directly at Schneider if she can avoid it. "As a princess especially such an outfit is...far from something I would be able to wear."

     'Sarra and Gregory, of course, get raised eyebrows.'

     Gregory barely reacts to the comments, but Sarra hmphs and crosses her arms. "Gregory is a piranha plant, a native of my world. Humans are far from the only sentient life there." she says, her tone and the way she slightly upturns her face to look down on them with her one eye (a feat helped by her height of slightly over 6 feet) suggesting the men will be sorry if they treat Gregory as anything lower than another person.

     As other start taking a seat at the table, Sarra also chooses a spot and sits. She offers Kukuru a customary wave and smile. "Miss Kukuru! Your outfit is quite flattering!" White too receives a wave and a greeting, as does Natsuki. "Good to see you as well, Commander White. And you...Lady Nue?" Sarra seems surprised at the title. She recalls hearing it a few times, but she doesn't recall Natsuki having any reason to have such a title. She'll have to ask about it later. Sarra waves just as casually back to Audrey.

     Sarra has little interest in magical reagents, so that conversation is left to the others. She listens disinterestedly while nibbling on a rice ball. It is pretty good, and Sarra's expression brightens a bit. The swordfish and eggplant pasta is eagerly twirled onto a fork and enjoyed after, with the princess soon smiling cheerfully. "Your skills in the kitchen are to be commended, Sir...?" Sarra has not been keeping track.

     'Schneider goes out into the rain and climbs onto the railing'

     Sarra watches with interest as Schneider displays a bit of her unusual nature. It even draws a smile and a giggle from the princess. "What are you doing?" she asks in a cheerful tone. A bit of whimsy is always nice to a childish adult. The princess doesn't seem concerned about Schneider's safety at all. She's been in the multiverse a while and pretty much assumes if someone in the factions does something that would otherwise seem silly and dangerous it is because they can handle it. She is a bit concerned about the rain, though. "If you would like a change of clothes once you have enjoyed the rain, do let me know."

     'Ahhhhh~... the goals of the Manus in this era--'

     Sarra has to consider that for a moment. "...that sounds good overall. What is it you find boring about it?" Sarra asks, more intending conversation than accusation. Not everyone is a hero, after all. And Schneider doesn't seem to be particularly villainous despite the villain vibes.

     'Please, how can I be of help to you?'

     After a moment of thought, Sarra shrugs lightly and smiles. "I am not sure my kingdom and I are in need of any assistance. Unless you have a way that I might become immortal." Sarra says casually between nibbles of fish pasta.

    
Kukuru "great difference, between the family and la famiglia."

Although Kukuru isn't well-versed in languages generally, even she can recognize the difference in what Schneider says. "Mhm, mhm.... Ah, I get it. Big difference, then." She affirms with a light giggle, looking over at Audrey and Sarracenia to greet them with an excitable little wave. "I'd hope the Concord can be like a... Family, then." She adds, still smiling just as sweetly as before while looking over at the goons. "Make sure to behave and work hard, then, okaaay? That way, everyone gets to be happy with doing a good job and being able to sleep peacefully later."

Does she actually get it? It's hard to tell from her mannerisms alone, but she actually does for once! That does remind her about another job she needs to handle, but... Another time. Right now, it's Schneider's time, both to make a good impression on the Concord's newest member, and to take in everything she wants to show off!

"They are dis-patched by Lord Forget-Me-Not, to ensure my safety,"

Giggling again at that little wave, Kukuru wiggles her claw-digits once more in return, tilting her head a little to match those subtle movements as she stares right at the duo. She soon slides that claw right back into a briefly appearing and disappearing cloud at her side where the pockets of a jacket would be.

"Safety, huh...? Aw, that's nice of him, but.... " She pauses to munch on some of the arancini, letting out a pleased little squeak at the flavor of the crispy rice and the stuffing inside. "Mm..! Oh, that's wonderful. So crispy... Ahem. Maybe he's worrying too much." She says, being the sort of person to worry too much. "You look like you know what you're doing already, and waaay faster on your feet... Oh, but are you eating enough, dear? You're so thin..."

"I prefer the wands,"

Kukuru doesn't make the connection between wands and Schneider's handgun. She might later! just not at this moment.

"Would this appeal to any of you, my lords?"

"Hmm.. I don't know much about magical stuff," Kukuru says, being someone that casually teleports all over the place. "But if there's any neat flavors in there for cooking, I'd love to take a peek at all that. Oh, but I have to see if..."

She considers her Dorado Black card for a moment, then furrows her brow while holding a hand up idly towards Natsuki's curiously adorable tail like she's inviting it in for a sniff, a pat, a chew, whatever. "Mm... No, it couldn't be a business expense unless... Oh. Does he have a takeout menu I can look through?"
Kukuru "I picked this one up from my grandparents."

Hearing that earns Cosimo another warm smile from the horned woman. "I understand... Hehe. I still hunt my own ingredients sometimes just to make sure it's suuuper fresh for here, too. Ah, but you'll settle in soon, I'm sure." She reassures, then pauses to sample the swordfish-eggplant pasta with another slightly muffled squeal and a dab at her mouth with a napkin for proper decorum. "Wonderful... Oh! Maybe you could even cook with them sometime."

Watching Schneider handle Angela's umbrella, Kukuru's head tilts in the other direction as she doesn't share nearly the same amount of worry as Schneider's men. Giggling softly at the balancing show, Kukuru keeps her eyes on the waify woman while instinctively getting a towel out of her portal-pocket and draping it over the back of Schneider's seat for whenever she's ready to dry off.

"All of it is, ah, a little boring to me?"
"Please, how can I be of help to you?"

"It does sound like a pretty useful goal, but... Mm. Not everything can be that exciting." Kukuru giggles again as she takes another bite of swordfish cube, shivers, then lets out a content sigh to distract herself from wanting to pour her entire plate into her mouth. "I'm sure we'll get along great, Schneider~ Ways to help, ways to help..."

Kukuru closes her eyes for a moment, then gestures at the reagents. "Do you know if any of those potions and things can make someone... Mm. Smarter? Or stronger? I've been doing more exercise, but..." She reopens her eyes, and her smile drops about halfway from its full strength. "I need to do it faster. I want to help everyone in the Concord with what they want to do, too, you know?"
Audrey Basque "Yeah, I mean, we're both well aware of how I dress."

    Audrey makes a noise.
    It's... a noise.
    It means many things.

    Assuredly, it primarily means "yeah" here.

"Isn't that *horny* though?? That's, like, super perverse. Did they do it on purpose?"

    "Is... is it?"

    No this one has Audrey staring back like she has no idea what Petra is talking about. You can't expect her to recognize those tells!

    "P-Perhaps it's... symbolic, rather?"

    They'd have to know who makes them in the first place.

    "I mean they *are* called the Hands of Vengeance. It's... just branding? It might well hold power on the sole basis that the imagery matches their name. You know how magic is. It can spread through symbols."
Natsuki Nuki Getting the gaijin pronunciation of her noble name and title is, of all things, a little bit pleasantly exotic for Natsuki, though it's not quite the proud and loud Yankee drawl she'd come to expect. 'Nat-SOOki' had a particular counterstyle hit to her faintly-flicking high orange ear, but 'noo-ueh' and permutations doesn't have the same fun charm.

There's a second reason, though, and the explanation comes with a huyu-huyu-huyu restrained giggle of a laugh. "Since we'll be working together, Schneider, you can use 'Natsuki'." A raised hand rolls fingers in a wave that isn't quite acknowledgement or dismissal but some third thing - the best of both worlds and neither.

The flourishing turns to lay across collar, thumb and middle finger spanning the raise of her collar and neck with a faint arch. "You've heard correctly, my fine lady!" The laughter turns warm and honey-drizzled, rolling from clever tongue and fine diction while her tail places darkscaled chin atop table and begins sliding across surface, shifting between plates and trays of arcane ingredients to lift and peer over a tray of curse bones proffered like a fine plate of appetizers.

"I run the most wonderful of establishments in my home city, the Golden Caterpillar. And, while I of course offer consulting services, I wouldn't dream to advise to your establishment before *sampling* from it. It would be insulting to the offering, and to be received - in tribute, in honor - is to meet someone in their fine places as they are. Masked and robed and performing, hmm? No, I think the respect comes in sampling the meal,"

Natsuki's attention shifts from Schneider to the plate being put in front of her, and honor of honors, first at the table. Seafood, especially, is a hard sell to an Osakan, but she just talked game about respect.

So she settles, in seat, and her tail almost-sheepishly but for the sinister serpentry gets out of the way. It doesn't get off the table, though. Lifting fork, Natsuki orbits the imbalanced metal around her finger before taking it tips-down with the arch of index along the back to brace the length in hand. Intentful and direct, she spears fish and bears down, scooping an unrolled but generous portion of the pasta onto fork, and then - losing a little, due to ambition, and not securing the whole load to maintain the structure of the dish around, lifts to mouth. She takes a second, just there, to taste without chewing, then withdraws fork and continues thoughtful pause. Unreadable of expression, beyond the slow lidding of her eyes, Natsuki meditates on the flavors, and only after she's come to a decision, begins chewing. Her sentence - the thought that went with it paused in coda over the quiet solo of enjoyment - finally carries on after she swallows the first evaluator bite.

"This place has beyond world-class class food, and you are within it." She appraises, looking directly at Cosimo as she approves formally, before dropping into a deeper slouch at her seat and a faint cant of her attention and head with a long smirk she speaks around. "As I was saying - you come into a place, and you eat as you're served first, and then if you have to, you add whatever brings that to your space if you need to. But it's a respect, to put it on offer. So it's a respect, to receive it."

She forks down at the swordfish pasta. "And you've served me grandma's recipe. So, I can taste the respect. I'm regretting not having one of those onigiri you were slinging earlier, but..." First service is a respect, too, and Natsuki had the particular pride to call out the members of the family and staff doing respectable work. It was part of 'good business'.
Natsuki Nuki Finally bored of bones the table-exploring snake lifts its attention to Schneider's odd-pet appreciation. of course, the length of it is apparently and clearly attached to her, wound around the side of her chair to invade the table, but it is at least intelligent or trained enough to not start eating the esoteric bones right off the plate.

Without being invited to.

Natsuki lightly tink-tink-tinks her fork against the inside of her plate after several more bites, only to look over to Audrey after hearing about her blazer. "Hmm? I did? Well, keep it. Is it your size? Keep it, keep it! If you like it enough to clean it, you must really think it's a good one!" The tiger-eared ballcap-inside woman titters in huyu-huyu amusement. "You owe me alright, Aud~rey, but if you're looking to pawn off a blazer like that, ahhh..." Amusement, again, another ripple of birdsong, before she points at Petra popping her collar. "Your senior Petra might look good in it. Make sure to match it to trousers or it doesn't work as well, but," Well, Petra did take strongly to the fashion cut of the city. "Not a problem for Petra, hah?" The lightly-rolled 'hah' devolves into a final chortle-tweet, and as Natsuki is going back to her food she catches Angela's comparison of her and Schneider, and, Natsuki and Sarracenia. Looking away with the faintest-breath 'tsk' from the attention, Natsuki returns to Schneider after her long talk about respect and sorts her plan A of just going over the table right there to sort business under the others under a more reasonable plan F of 'wait and see'. Though she had greedily scooped up the advance, she certainly hadn't advanced on the completion of her task.

"Why yes, Schneider, there are a few things you can do for me, now that you mention it." Natsuki's fork-tapping stops. "I'm interested in Mr. Forget-Me-Not, as well as yourself. Especially as a fellow financier and peddler of occult items," The dry chuckle of a professional speaking around the art exhales from her, and she goes for another bite of swordfish. "I believe we'd have a very productive conversation. If you could arrange that, I'd appreciate it. It might be small, but introductions are a kind of 'special service', so I understand if it takes time to arrange."
Schneider Greco      Cosimo returns, after his round around the table, to give Natsuki a polite waiter's bow. Wrong kind of suit for it, but he's got the spirit. "Well, we do our best, ma'am. And, uh, sir?" he guesses nervously, at the snake. "It's, uh... I know some of it's an acquired taste. So I wasn't so sure. But Schneider-" not 'boss', when she's out of earshot- "said to do it like we were cooking for ourselves. Glad it worked out."

     Beat.
     "What's onigiri?"
     Guy next to him elbows him. "It's that thing they wear for the martial arts, you swine."
     "No, c'mon, that's something else! I'm asking!"

     "here in the present before his ascension..."
     "Here in the present," Schneider breathes melodically. Her heels tap against the glass of the balcony's railing, maybe ten feet from Sougo and Woz if they're still seated at the table's foot. "My lords, I am a woman of business, but I am mostly... ah, a killer? Tell me more of your 'time travellers'. But if it is as simple as removing a rival, aha, forget me not."

     Schneider makes a motion as if she were fluffing her jaw-length hair. But it's utterly drenched, of course.

     "What is it you hope to accomplish? Business?"
     Schneider smiles, and that lightness coaxes another delighted-breathy little laugh out of her, barely audible over the roaring rain out there where she sits.

     "My kind, bright lords, don't you know?" She slouches onto her side on the thin railing, letting one leg dangle; her cheek rests against her shoulder, and she twirls the umbrella while stroking her handgun with her thumb.

     "When I am twenty-one it is the 'Great Depression'," she breathes, looking down at where the rain puddles on the balcony. It reflects her face, broken by raindrops. "Children will eat rats from the garbage, my lords. Hated Mussolini governs in Sicily until I am of middle age. When I am thirty there is a second Great War, and Europe is soaked again in blood. And if I live to be ninety, my lords, still I will not see a time of peace."

     "I know all this, from Lady Arcana," she breathes, "who came from the future." Her eyes lift from the reflection to look at all of you, and her smile deepens.

     "And I still want to live. An end to the Storm, or just a life-boat for me and my family-- other people give up, but I, ahah, I do not understand this?" Her eyes widen. For just a moment there's something a little crazy in them. "Even a dog will...!"

     "... Ah, I'm sorry, my lords." She slides back towards darkly-knowing, reclining on her side a little more, until the umbrella can only shade her upper body and not her legs. It's not as though water can make her clothes any more see-through.

     "I want to live," she sighs, winding-down. "And to be rich, would be also nice. To grow fat, like your Golden Caterpillar. But first to live. For that rescue I must be depended-on by Lord Forget-Me-Not. And depended-on by you."
Schneider Greco      "You do assassinations, right?"
     She tilts the gifted umbrella aside, letting the torrent of the rain soak her afresh for a few moments. "Ah... they say an arcanist's heart shows in their arcanum. Achille, an oyster." One of her men throws her one of the unshucked shellfish; she catches it, shifts the umbrella to the crook of her arm, and throws it up in the air over the balcony.

With no incantation but a twist of her hand, a blurry 'ghost' of the oyster is drawn out. It stays still as the real thing plummets. She aims at the 'ghost' faux-carelessly--
BANG

     The oyster falls open as it hits the ground, just before the shell casing. Its shell is intact, but the insides are scrambled. Schneider lazily gestures at it with her gun, while one of her guys second-guesses whether he should clap. "Will that serve your pur-poses, my lords?"

     Hopefully in all the rain nobody too stuffy heard that gunshot.

     She finally slides from her railing perch to stand on the balcony again, crouches down, and picks up the oyster to slurp it from the half-shell. No sense wasting food. Its other half, she hands to-- Haschen, for some reason? With a little gleam.

     "You sound like Lord Forget-Me-Not speaking of 'pernicious habits', my-lord," she says loosely in Flamel's direction, after relishing it. Hard to say if that's a compliment. "Then perhaps, to be timeless is to be safe, and to be 'of a place' is to be doomed...? Aha, you come bearing only bad news for me. But I think my lord can help you."

     At last she walks back inside, shutting the umbrella, and tracking in far too much rain. Schneider doesn't seem to mind being completely soaked, except that she finds an unused cloth napkin to towel off her guns.

     "So many who wish to meet Lord Forget-Me-Not... no, I am sure he will be pleased. The Walden, his speak-easy, is such a safehouse as you wish to see; and he does his business there as well. Potions for brains, aha, I don't know of, but he can at least give potions for energy."

     But as for her actual opinions of the man... Schneider looks up at the two dragon-headed guards and shakes her head. "I hope he sees that I am more capable than he credits, my lords," she says of her bristling at his protection, and nothing more.

     >favorite animal
     Schneider has a mishmash of themes there: the red-feathered dress, the snake circlet on her arm, the snakeskin guns. It'd be hard to guess. But she thinks for a moment, finger against her cheek, as she straightens up from drying the guns- she knows to take the question seriously. "I do love your little hardened spiders," she says, "but I have always loved birds. Or perhaps a cat, my-lady?"

     "Isn't that *horny* though?? That's, like, super perverse."
     Schneider, who is the most naked character that can be depicted at this show's age rating, sighs forbearingly and shakes her head.

     "Our Lady Arcana, I am afraid, is, ah... a pervert."
Audrey Basque "If you like it enough to clean it, you must really think it's a good one!"

    "Well I thought you might want it back, it looked expensive--"

"You owe me alright, Aud~rey,"

    That's ominous! Audrey would spend a lot of time worrying about that, now, if the next thing out of Natsuki's mouth wasn't--

"Your senior Petra might look good in it."

    Audrey side-eyes Petra, fully considering the suggestion.
    "Hm."
    It's Natsuki's idea, not hers.
    "I don't think I've ever seen her wear anything that wasn't pants, so you might have a point."

"I know all this, from Lady Arcana,"

    "That is--"

    Audrey goes mute, for a few seconds; she has to remember that a lot of these worlds, and especially this one, is happening in the history books of the last century for her. And that... those were bad times. For ex-- humans. For humans. When she finds her words, she nods. "I understand. To know great calamities lie ahead of you and that history won't favor you..."

    Audrey can say she understands, but it's a surface level sort of empathy. 'Yeah, I'd want to do something too,' but she lacks the fire to. She might be more akin to those who give up, in Schneider's view.

"Will that serve your pur-poses, my lords?"

    The display of her skill, though...

    She's hardly an evaluator so she has nothing to say, but she's impressed, as much as 'assassinations' are out of her own wheelhouse.

"Our Lady Arcana, I am afraid, is, ah... a pervert."

    "Oh."

    Audrey shoots Petra a glare like 'okay well you were right but it could really have gone either way come on'.
White White spends a moment reaching over to give Kudoku a familiar, gentle fingertip stroke when it arches up to surveil the tabletop, and gently pulls some of the food a little closer so the monster-tail can reach without overreaching, if it wants to have a bit of dinner itself. Of something besides magic bones, anyway. Simply being audacious but calm seemed to work for petting the tail-critter before, so clearly she's an expert at it now. Then she aims her focus down at her plate, gathering up a bit of the fish, the eggplant, and the pasta into a demure half-forkful and bringing it to her mouth, taking it off the fork and then halfway-politely covering her mouth behind the side of the same hand. While she's not as vocal as others in praising the food, the way she holds onto that one bite and seems momentarily distracted feels like a sort of praise, if anyone's watching.

     That's just the one hand though; the other summons some cotton stuffing from storage into her lap, where the spider she called out before bundles it up into a neat ball with its forelegs and holds it there, while White begins to spin silk from her fingertips, wrapping the stuffing in the shape of a cat... Initially. Schneider had mentioned birds as well, and on an impulse she begins to add folded-in wings to the cat too. They're not articulated; she would need plastic or metal pieces to make that work, but they tuck in against the soft toy feline's sides and can flap a little if toyed with by hand.

Typically, making a stuffed toy means making multiple pieces of cloth, then carefully cutting, aligning, sewing and stitching to seal everything together... But for White, it's just a matter of knowing the final form she's aiming for and weaving the threads directly into the proper shape. There are no seams between pieces, and she even alters the texture by brushing her fingertips against it, making the surface slightly more velvety and less smooth.

     Schneider's priorities leave no room for criticism, to White. Everyone has to live in order to do anything else. Nobody can be judged for doing what they need to in order to live. Dreams for after that point, too, are necessary. "At least... You can work on both. Starting now." she uses her real voice to try and reassure. To live, and to grow rich. The demonstration of ability, too, gives her more of an idea of what to expect, and how to humor her; seeing something's spirit pulled from its body is unnerving in the way it properly should be, especially for someone such as herself who isn't as attached to the body itself... But it's informative. It seems like she's not all that strange after all, for only having violence on her side for such a long time and trying to assert her right to live regardless.
White It's while she's still applying the final touches to her gift, altering the texture to be just right and producing small black beady plastic eyes to weave into the face and tiny plastic bits to become the stubby, blunt little claws of each paw that she finally answers the original question. Or rather she starts to, saying "I'm trying... Not to kill specific... People, that are in... My way. So it's..." She seems to trail off there, pursing her lips and setting aside the stuffed animal to get her phone out, and setting it on the table with her TTS app open, typing rather quickly into the digital keyboard with fingertips instead of her thumb.

     What it repeats is, "Recently I realized there are things I may need, in order to do what I plan to. If I do not have them, I may have to kill a lot more people to stop that planet from dying. I might ask you, and others, to help me obtain those things. From superpowered teenagers." She pauses, looks at Sougo in particular without opening her eyes, then looks back to Schneider before typing in, "Trying not to kill them does make things harder. But I made a promise to my teacher. I hope you understand." Then, she holds the newly-made winged cat out to Schneider, or one of her men who might hand it to her; she couldn't quite think of an aesthetically sound way to mix spider traits into it, sadly.
Timespace Riders it works. But I'll always want to expand.

    "Cool!" Sougo beams. "We'd love to come and see it sometime."

What's the Demon King up to lately? Found any new Riders?

    "Yeah!" says Sougo. "Well... maybe," he admits. "There's a stage magician that Woz is pretty sure is using real magic and passing it off as stage magic. It could be he's just from offworld, but..."

    "There is a certain similarity with a style of magic practiced by a certain Kamen Rider who has disappeared under the kind of suspicious circumstances I tend to associate with temporal skulduggery."

But if it is as simple as removing a rival, aha, forget me not.

    Sougo smiles, indeed still seated in the same spot. He absolutely heard her say she's mostly a killer, and, yet, he leans forward in his seat, resting his chin on his hand. "Hmm..."

    "It is, and it isn't. I generally prefer not to... remove people, that way. I notice that a lot of the people who are after me, and especially the people who end up being sent after me, aren't... happy. I wonder if it's like that for you, too?"

    He spears a little piece of fish and savors it, but he doesn't take his eyes off of her. "There are some people you just... can't reach," he says, with a little frown. Ayin comes to mind. "I know that. But I think, a lot of the time, there's... kind of a stray thread you can pull on, and unravel a really tangled mess. Something that the people around them pretend not to see, or take advantage of. And, when you do it, when you do it... right, you see all the best parts of that person in an entirely new context--maybe even 'at all.'"

    The gunshot startles Sougo, but, in the way that a loud noise does, and not for the message which Schneider sends with it. "If you're going to help me, I'd prefer that you do it as my ally--as an equal, and not as someone I just call on to do my dirty work. It's... important to me that I get the throne the way I think is right. Anyone can 'grab' power."
Petra Soroka "Your senior Petra might look good in it."

    Petra double-takes, briefly thinking that her thoughts about Natsuki were being read. Then she looks down at herself-- unbuttoned shirt collar, slouch, and all, and figures that it's actually a very fair read. "I mean, your fashion sense fucking owns. Maybe some of it'd rub off on me if I had one of your jackets; that'd only be good if it did."

"I don't think I've ever seen her wear anything that wasn't pants, so you might have a point."

    "I wear shorts!" Petra protests, loserly. "Look, I don't like dresses. There's nothing wrong with that. Like, can you imagine me in one at all? It's just wrong."

    Continuing to be defensive, Petra goes on, "And besides, there's tons of looks that pants can work for. It's not like I'm wearing the same thing every day; except when I'm wearing the Library uniform, and that doesn't count at all. I'm way more experimental with my outfits than *you* are, skater girl."

"Is... is it?"

    "Of course it's horny. Obviously it is. Sorry, the *mind control mask* that puts *hands* over your eyes? Are you kidding me? That's some shit degenerate fan artists are coming up with to put their favorite military drone boys in to show their tragic devotion to their leaders. There's no world where that's not horny."

"And if I live to be ninety, my lords, still I will not see a time of peace."

    Petra mulls this over for a time while Schneider talks, falling silent and letting her expression settle back to neutral as her visible emotion drains away. 'The desire to live' is, obviously, something that Petra's never had a personal investment in, but the ever-present spectre of death in her future *is*. Block by block, she disassembles and rebuilds Schneider's words into something that she can fit into an existing slot to understand it.

    "So stopping the Storm isn't good enough, and the 'good of the world' doesn't matter, and not even the 'good of arcanists'. You want to *win*." Petra tilts her head. "Do you think it would have been possible without the Storm? In the original progression of history, do you think you end up rich and alive from crime family stuff? Or... do you want to 'rewrite fate'?"

    "As someone who spent a few centuries as an ominous prophecy ghost displaced backwards in time," She'd never thought about this being true for how she was with Angela before, but it's suddenly very funny to her. "I'll see what I can do. I respect people who're 'hungry'."

"Will that serve your pur-poses, my lords?"

    "Ha ha!" Petra lets out a two-part laugh, half surprised and half delighted. "Oh, that's *cool*! That rocks. We should talk about what kinds of tricks you can do with that sometime. I've gotta kill some really tough people, and surprisingly few people around here have skills *that* dedicated to killing."

"Our Lady Arcana, I am afraid, is, ah... a pervert."

    "I knew it. Of course. There was no other option." Petra is softly awed, again, by the name 'Lady Arcana', doubly so now with context. "Well, she's in good company."
Angela Angela briefly considers what might happen if she needs to call Natsuki OFF her task again but ultimately decides that she simply won't. The idea occurs to her that Natsuki might just never get around to the task. But knowing that the task is ongoing is something of a comfort either way. Once it comes up in her head again she'll check in on the matter. Right now is too soon to bring it up.

Angela is a little unsure on how to deal with Flamel right now. She should still be upset with him, but she doesn't really have heat and Lilian asked her personally to be gentler than she had a mind to be. So she's ultimately not sure where to be. She supposes it's hard to be forgiving of Flamel for doing the same sort of work she's done at LobCorp when she can't really forgive herself. ... And it's not really just LobCorp isn't it? But she knows this method is working. It is far less theory than it was before.

''Oh, but my secretary might have some evil--''

"It's been too long since we've pampered HeyAlexa. She deserves a nice gift." Angela says. She does wonder about 'the essence of fear' but she has no use for that right now, does she? She wouldn't even know what to do with it. Perhaps she should ask for a primer on what these ingredients do. Now if they were tickets, well, she'd know what to do with those.

Angela cuts a rice ball in half, and offers that half over to Petra. "Give it a try." She says.

''I want to live.''

Angela's now staring at Schneider.

''And to rich would also be nice.''

"There are many forms of wealth in the Multiverse, but I've found that wealth is easier to find than life. But still, these are people who helped me live so they ought to help you, unless they've grown tired of such things."

And then Schneider kills a ghost.

"Did you just kill an undead mollusk?" Angela asks.

She looks to the two guards. Maybe she shouldn't be looking for similarities in the first place. When has that ever helped her anyway? Yes, she thinks, she was just caught off guard by that 'I want to live', right? Well, she can say that she's doing this for selfish reasons too. That's more trustworthy anyway right? Right. Ghosts are easily killed. You can even say they already mostly are.

Angela considers quietly for a moment. "Ah, that is right. I wanted to show you how the 'Pages' I draw from people works. I know I mentioned 'Booking' before but this is a ... subtler less severe form."

She turns and approaches Flamel.

"Excuse me, Flamel, but I believe you would not object." She then reaches at him, a glow flickering between her fingertips before she snaps her hand back. And like a Precure villain, this actually has an effect and sheath of golden pages appears in Angela's hand. Unlike a Precure villain, Flamel doesn't immediately turn into a monster and start stomping around.

Instead she turns and offers one of the pages to Flamel.

"Please do not take this as a gift, it is shrimply easier if you experienced than if I explained." Though she won't actually just slap the page on her without any leadup.

''Our Lady Arcana, I am afraid, is, ah... a pervert.''

"Understood." Angela says, filing this important information away.
Kukuru "My kind, bright lords, don't you know?"

It's time for a history lesson! It's one that has Kukuru's expression steadily turning from a smile to a frown, but it's important for her to hear these things so she knows why Schneider wants what she wants. "Children eating...? That  doesn't sound great at all. And why would a war be...?"

That has Kukuru pausing just long enough to think about naming conventions, and then her shoulders sag a bit more. She does perk up again once Schneider speaks her reasons more plainly, though, and her smile returns soon thereafter. "That's plenty of good goals, mhm. Money's super important for living comfortably, and getting fat... Ah, you won't have to worry about that for long with us around. Making sure Forget-Me-Not needs to rely on you..."

That's something she'll need to think about some more, if she really wants to help Schneider out there.

"Achille, an oyster."

Looking back over as Schneider shows off her arcanum, Kukuru purses her lips slightly at the ghost oyster while watching both it and the real thing falling. She doesn't quite get what's happening up until Schneider fires, and her brain activates almost immediately as her eyes widen almost immediately.

"... You could make so much money preparing stuff for cooking." She marvels, clapping excitedly at the display while her brain works for the first time in a good while. "Like oysters, and livestock, and the really sensitive fishies... If you don't have to worry about their bodies getting all weird from dying too slow or the wrong way, I bet you could really make a-"

She pauses, then winks in advance of a bad pun. "-'killing' at fancy restaurants." That gets Kukuru giggling again before long.

"Potions for brains, aha, I don't know of, but he can at least give potions for energy."

"Darn... Oh well. Energy's good, too. I could use some more sleep, but if I can just not feel so tired after work... Ah, that'd be wonderful, too. Then I could help you work at being in-dis-pensable, and you don't have to worry about not being..."

Something finally clicks for Kukuru, and she quirks an eyebrow towards Schneider while picking up that towel from earlier. "Waaait... Are you not already useful enough for him now? And... Couldn't we save you from whatever it is, if you're here with us now?" She asks while getting up to offer Schneider that towel. It's a beach-sized towel from the 90s given during some Barq's promo event, and it might even be longer than Schneider is tall.
Madeleine Cadrasteia     "And I still want to live. An end to the Storm, or just a life-boat for me and my family-- other people give up, but I, ahah, I do not understand this? Even a dog will...!"

    "No, I get it," Madeleine says, encouraging. "Horrors will persist but you won't let them win. The people who make these wars, they want you gone, and you won't let them have it!" She's getting pretty jazzed-up about this. "I respect that about you, I really do."

    Schneider demonstrates her arcanum.

    Madeleine's eyes widen at the sight. "To attack its essence directly... I haven't seen anything like that in a while. You Manus folks are real talented." If Maddie were smarter, she'd be recognizing more familiar shapes in their whole deal. Oh well. It'll be fine :)

    "There is a certain similarity with a style of magic practiced by a certain Kamen Rider who has disappeared under the kind of suspicious circumstances I tend to associate with temporal skulduggery."

    "Oh? Maybe he got his powers stolen or something, if it's not the same guy. And if it is he'll have some reason he stopped acting as a Rider... sounds like a puzzle. Keep me in the loop if you need help tracking him down."
Natsuki Nuki Having missed Sarracenia's greeting, Natsuki eventually remembers that there was some sort of questioning to the tone Sarracenia put to her words. Belatedly, slowly, while waiting for other answers and while tail invades tablespace to loop about and the jar of terror, Natsuki returns to that.

"The Lady Nue. That's correct. Natsuki Nuki is my personal name. 'The Nue' is what I am, and I've just-" She swirls the dregs of her pasta up as she sees the waiting suited man approach. "-wrapped it up for you, marked lady. Don't you like it?"

She finishes the pasta, and prepares to give up her plate, flourishing arm as if to display jacket and certainly flashing nails.

When Cosimo returns, Natsuki is regarded again and asked a direct question about important food. Amused first, with a near-purring rumble of "Good guess, Cosimo.", Natsuki flick-saccades yokai reds across to glare at her tail, which has yawned open to indulge in dropping down on the top like an extra-round egg. 'Caught', the snake just goes a little slower at having a whole jar of fear stuck into it while Natsuki sighs and rolls her eyes. She doesn't even stop the independent limb, just tries to return to a hopefully normal about it Cosimo. A little excited, despite, she tries to explain in a better way. "Ah, you know... [reisu boo-ru]?" She attempts, her accent thick in the loanword pronunciation. A balling of the hands to shape the thought might be indicative is helpfully offered, Natsuki trying to return to Appreciating The Staff for a moment while one was brave enough to ask, and then,

Well, there is the aforementioned mask and performance of Schneider Greco.

Hands clasped without clapping, Natsuki considers the edge-leaning Schneider, the tilt of her head gone, the smirk thinned to a resting face that would be pleasant neutral smile but for the  eyes that cast the whole of it in a natural negative light. In that, there's a glimmer of sympathy, a reflection in the rain.

"I was going to ask you, what Schneider could do for me - since I was going to ask what was the dream that got you into the Concord. But I think I've heard it. Haven't I? Is it something brighter than that?"

Natsuki eases on that note, releasing hands down to lap and table at ease. "To live, rich, is a fine dream I think. To 'live', and not simply exist, or lay bleeding over years, hah?" The drag of her questioning clips when both heads' eyes watch the gunplay with seperate interest.

"You aren't afraid to [walk wire], Schneider. It's admirable, if you can keep your balance. I'll be rooting for you, I think. As fat as the Caterpillar is a dream I can only endorse, yeah?" Natsuki offers, toasting with a retreating curl of her hand and arm as she returns to slouch.
Natsuki Nuki "Of course I have a point, Aud~rey! Doubt me at your peril, junior." Natsuki rolls into laughter-for-her huyu-huyu's, and sighs into the second affirmation key by direct hitting Petra. The double take into self reflection into defeat was the sweet hit of affirmation in a long sip of ambrosia. "It does fucking own, and I've got jackets that'll rub off on you if you're interested. You want something business? You come into the Caterpillar some time, I'll call a tailor in, you can get something fitted in, get an optional lace skirting for it, I can see it now. It'll kill in shorts." Natsuki's strong, long smirk returns. "I can imagine you in anything draped off the waist, darling, but my fashion is built around my curse-hungry companion here-" She lifts hands to hold palms vertical, and hands parallel. "-so when I do pants, they have to work with a [big belt]."

'Big-gu be-ru-to' gets a hand pop per character syllable. It's an important affectation for the particular limb she's speaking to.

But the finest call of the evening comes at the end.

"A pervert? Damn!" Natsuki laughs, slapping thing as her hands come down on legs and she leans forward. "No wonder I was overdressed for this. Well I'm afraid I think I've found good company. Really, I'm... *regretful* that my first interaction with your group was opposed. Perhaps you can help me, Miss Greco, on a warm reintroduction to the living truth as you understand it? I didn't *just* want time with Mr. Forget-Me-Not."
Flamel Parsons     Flamel peers at the oyster interior, eyes gleaming behind the sunglasses. He looks back to Schneider, considering her possibly-censor-blocked visual vulnerability and demonstrated astral ultraviolence, and considers her words. "'And I still want to live...'" He whispers a bit. There's a nod. "You know," Flamel looks up from the scrambled oyster. "I'd *love* to take a look at what your brain is like, sometime. The level of, how do I put it... You really do understand that the world is supposed to be a certain kind of secure, safe, supporting, even when it isn't, or won't be. I bet your mental image of the world is *powerful*."

    What does *that* mean?

    Getting back to things. "I won't be able to lean on you for killing," He explains. "I don't do that business much. *But*!" He beams brightly! "I'd *love* to depend on you for access to key information and people! If you're interested in becoming indispensible, and all. Manus Vindictae are interesting folks, but we do our best work with--" Pause. Hmm. "Uh. I guess we do our best work with younger paranormal folks, really!" He's grappling with finding the right words to say something that's not good.

    "I'd be happy to tell you all about why people give up on life, but that's not very good to do. I think I'd rather help fuel your choice to stick to it! Let's definitely see how we can work together and get me depending on you." That wide, friendly smile. Let's get *toxic*! Flamel doesn't judge how Schneider sees the world or question how she expresses these relationships so transactionally and menacingly. He's Flamel Parsons, agent of a vague yet ominous government organization after all -- he simply sees her being honest and open about how she wants to approach the world.

    Also, he wants to sharpen that mental image of the world a little. That... is something he wants a chance to see, for sure.
Flamel Parsons     "Excuse me, Flamel, but I believe you would not object."
    "True! Go ahead!" Flamel watches the page forming, enjoying an interesting sensation, and then taking it into his hands. "Oooh, data!" He mutters gleefully, only a tiny bit sad when he sees that it's stuff he already knows about himself. "Aww, this would have been so useful ten years ago. Ever thought about trying this on lots of potential replicants? You could run a pod-person detection business instead of a library! I feel like there's got to be at least one sinister race of disguised infiltrating nonhumans in the City. If there wasn't before, I mean, there's gotta be now."
Sarracenia      Sarracenia may not have been trapped in a 10,000 year loop underground, but she still understands wanting to live. That was why she left her kingdom the first time more years ago than she likes to talk about. Not to mention the future that Schneider is talking about sounds pretty horrible. "...why do so many worlds have such histories? Or even...presents?" the princess wonders aloud, seeming unnerved by the mere idea of the future being described. She shakes her head as if to clear it, then hammers her fists onto the table enough to make a heavy thump without really disturbing anything. "Want to live...one should not have to want to live! One should simply...be able to live! It would be a shame to grow fat, but one should have the option at least!"

     Sarra takes a breath then lets it out. "I would be happy to help you live..." Her eye slides toward Angela for just a moment before returning to Schneider. "...so long as you do not take a route that dooms others in the process. And as for giving up, I do not understand that myself. Giving up is perhaps the most grievous of harms done to oneself. One must never give up, even when there seems to be no way forward. It is only when you give up that you have truly lost."

     Despite her words, the princess seems...unnerved by Schneider's power. She has opinions on assassins and guns and covert powers such as that. "...ah...th-that is...quite the power you have." Sarra replies to the question of purposes. She doesn't say anything else because...she can't imagine such a power being used for honorable things. Good things...perhaps, but not honorable ones.

     'The Lady Nue. That's correct. Natsuki Nuki is my personal name. 'The Nue' is what I am, and I've just...wrapped it up for you, marked lady. Don't you like it?'

     Sarra smiles at the question. "I do! It is quite elegant. Do you have a preference in how you are addressed, then? Or is it one of those 'any way you would like' sort of things?"

     'Our Lady Arcana, I am afraid, is, ah... a pervert.'

     Sarra turns red again just at the word and coughs. "A wha-...?!" No, Sarra is not sunburned. That's just her natural color when she blushes. Sarra coughs, then collects herself. "W-well...perhaps I should learn a bit more about your 'famiglia'..." Sarra is sure to butcher the word terribly, "...before we arrange any meetings. But, you are quite welcome to visit my kingdom if the mood strikes you. I will not claim we have anything noteworthy, but I think the Sundew Kingdom is unique in many ways."
Angela ''So long as you do not take a route that dooms others in the process.''

"Ha Ha Ha" Angela laughs, explicitely making it as robotic as she can. Clearly Sarracenia is joking about Angela dooming others, that's why Angela can Ha Ha Ha (no).

''I'd love to take a look at what your brain is like, sometime.''

"Flamel means that entirely platonically." Angela says dryly, impossible to tell if she means that or is cracking an actual Angela style quip.

''Aww, this would have been so useful ten years ago. Ever thought about trying this on lots of potential replicants? You could run a pod-person detection oh my god this is horrifying''

"The pages do not usually draw out surrounding information about a person they do not know, though it can." Angela says. "If the narrative is loud enough."

''Sinister race of disguised infiltrating nonhumans.''

Angela thinks of the distortions. "]That could be." She amdits, expression neutral. "It would be fitting if the walled city was already infested."
Schneider Greco      Poor Cosimo instinctively puts his hands up, protesting that he's got nothing to do with any snake-wrangling situation- then hesitantly tries to reach out to pry the snaketail off the jar- then thinks better of it, hoverhanding a good two or three feet away. "Ahh, ehh- how about I just itemize that one as a loss? Cost of, uh, doing business?"

     Excuses won't save you from having to accept back a drooled-on jar, Cosimo. "Oh, haha, th-- thanks," he sweats. Schneider has already trained him for normalcy under duress. Fortunately, all is forgiven in the camaraderie of trilingual communication: "Ohhhh. Rice ball! Arancina, arancina. Tell you what, Natsu-- uh, Lady Nue-- there's some spare fixings back there, I'll make a second batch."

     He hustles backstage, partly out of altruism, and partly to wash his hands.

     Schneider is lifted by the approval of her killing skill, even if she can't fully bask in it. Somehow- and it probably isn't 'distaste for violence'- it doesn't feel to her like something she should be too proud of. "Thank you, thank you, my-lords. To have an arcanum devoted to killing is, ah, unusual, I think? If all arcanists did, the world could hardly treat them so..." With a straightened back and raised chin, she undoes the clasps on the briefcase.

     Immediately, a sheaf of papers inside glows, and a vinyl-artificial-sounding voice starts up:

     "Hello! I am your personal stockbroker! Congratulations: your accounts are up seventeen-and-a-half percent today. The real estate market is on fi--"

     Without pausing, Schneider pulls out a single bullet and shuts the suitcase again, muffling the voice. She pops out the magazine to top it back off, so used to a dual-wielding reload that she draws her other gun just to use it to tap the magazine back in.

     Nothing about the way she handles those guns is 'proper', but they're objects of intimacy to her.

     "Are you not already useful enough for him now?"
     "Two weeks ago that was not certain," she says, eyeing the passive Manus monsters like they might be eavesdropping. "Now, it almost is. So long as all goes well for the Manus in this era, and I do not prove myself so great a disappointment. I do not like... this. The hunting-down of small risks, like rats." There's a malaise to it. Maybe a grand, cathartic effort would be more her element than a dozen little assurings.

     Finally, she shucks off that soaking coat and finds a potted plant to wring it out over, like a towel, while laying the umbrella aside. One of her guys tries to help her twist it; she brushes him off.

     "Haven't I? Is it something brighter than that?"
     "Is there any dream brighter than that, Lady Natsuki?" Schneider says, in her graciously puckish tone while straightening back up. The coat goes back 'round her shoulders. "If there is, surely it is for loftier dreamers than me~."

     "I respect people who're 'hungry'."
     "I respect that about you, I really do."
     "It's admirable, if you can keep your balance."
     Schneider eyes Maddie, Natsuki, and Petra with a reserved kind of warmth. They don't seem so beat-up, now. Could they ever have been the kind of person she is now? Maybe. It's hard to see it, from where she stands. Maybe someday she could become the kind of person who could never have been herself.
Schneider Greco      "That's right, my lords. But you have never heard the name 'Schneider Greco' in your history books, have you? Nor has the Foundation." She smiles graciously. "My lords, I think... in no other world, no history, have I before lived and been happy. But even in a dark box, a seed will sprout. No-one... no-one, has any choice in this world but to thrive."

     Her mood is interrupted by being given a stuffed animal. "M... my-lady, what is this you've made for me? Cats don't have wings where I am from," she tries to scold, but it comes out a little too awed and breathy for that. It's just a funny little gift, but... it's a gift, right? Like the umbrella. She looks silly holding it, almost like a kid with an oversized carnival prize.

     "Anyone can 'grab' power."
     "My kind lords, that is very wrong," says Schneider with a warmed patience. "To be gentle with the hurt of one's enemies..." Her eyes track to White, too. "Maybe... like other things, I have not lived enough yet to know this. But I will hold to it, if it pleases you."

     Schneider squishes the cat under her arm and then accepts the page from Angela with only a little marveling suspicion, too- just as she's preparing to read it, it vanishes into her with a soft glow. The utensils and plates around her rattle for a moment, and she accompanies it with a quiet gasp. Hesitantly, she tests the page's power by letting go of the White-woven stuffed animal. It floats. A teeny-tiny giggle bubbles out of her. "Lord Parsons," she says, leaning sideways against her new floaty cat, "you are not the first to want to see my brains, but is it maybe not a threat? If there is a vision of a happy world in there... please, tell me it."

     "-'killing' at fancy restaurants."
     Schneider laughs, brighter and longer than she has before.

     "In a better world, my-lady," she says. "In a bet-ter world..."

     Look at her, laden down with toys and shiny things. How'd it come to this. There's queasiness on her face, but something happier too.
White White nods slowly, almost sagely, as her winged cat is gently criticised. It feels like something she has heard before, in another context, which she already has her pre-baked answer ready enough for that she can meander toward it. "You liked both. 'Both' was possible. So you... Can have both." The way her neutral expression pairs with the statement makes it feel like there's something she's not saying, but for once she's been quite candid. Seeing the small signs of Schneider's surprise and happiness is about as good as praising her work, as far as she cares, and she seems faintly relieved before going back to working on her plate of fish and pasta... At her pace though, it'll be cold by the time she's done, but she seems determined.