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Foundation Scions     In the months since the LSCC Artificial Warpgate first spun-up, shockingly little about the lab chamber it sits within has changed. It's still not a large area, placed within a room which could generously be called a lab, and less-generously an isolation chamber in case the whole thing blew up at any point, with the only relatively new, unless one has been here recently, modifications being a check-in desk and wider doors installed, where there once were only windows out to the hallways, gesturing both at the increase in traffic and security, of people and of some materials.

    At the check-in desk is, of course, where those who have signed up for today's tour are to meet the Laplace liaison- the Center's very-own FDMO representative, and Paladins affiliate, Mesmer Jr. With the number of tours set throughout the day, she's been busy for hours, showing other small groups of visiting representatives around the facility- this, evidenced mostly by the evening start-time, is the last, a fact she looks far from pleased about when she stands, clipboard in hands, staring at who comes through the warpgate.

    Hovering at her side, bored where Mesmer looks cross, is a chrome-clad Laplace security guard, armed with the same manner of K-tope Callibrator zapgun Mesmer is, and leaning against a wall. Separate from the staff behind the desk, it's an easy guess that he, too, is there to tag along with the tour. Thanks to a myriad of suggestions, and a few incidents, Laplace is doing everything it can to safeguard the crucial asset of its very own Mesmer, an expensive-to-replace piece of medical equipment.

    "Welcome to Laplace Scientific Computing Center's headquarters, the largest and most advanced of our research campuses. Please, take your guest tags." It's scripted, and yet, it's shocking that Mesmer only has a touch of sarcasm to her voice. She holds out a fan of bright-colored guest badges, with pins, and cords to dangle like the access badges everyone else in Laplace but Mesmer seems to wear. The rounded-triangle crest of circling arrows, is watermarked on the body of the passes, as it is on walls in the warpgate room.

    "Mesmer Jr., Rehabilitation Center Department Head, FDMO representative, and arcanist. Today, I'll be your tour guide." Ah. That's where the sarcasm and venom sits, in that greeting. At least by holding out the badges, she lacks a free hand to shake anyone else's. "How convinient, that most of you already knew that. I'm instructed to ask of the avenues for cooperation you and your organizations seek with Laplace. Please understand that only means Laplace, and not me, when voicing that."

    "Before we can start, we're still waiting on the arrival of one 'Willow Taylor', hardware distribution manager of... Apple Computer Company? That's interesting. I'm sure it will be just a moment." Mesmer takes the minute to approach Lilian, without looking at the others standing around her, to hand, from behind her clipboard, an un-marked orange plastic keychain-and-key, to, clearly, a storage locker somewhere- "Bank four, unit twenty-three." She presses it into Lilian's hand, and turns on her heels to stand back where she had and wait.

    When the final group-member arrives, though, one 'Willow Taylor', Mesmer, on the job and supposed to be professional, lets out a frank "Excuse me? This has to be a joke. It's you?" Of course someone of 'Apple Computer Company' is, in fact, none other than Regulus. But whatever pathway she took to get booked along-side this, she's still booked to be given a tour. Mesmer glares at her when handing out the obligatory guest-pass, sour enough that her guard takes notice, stirs, and throws her a confused look. With a little shrug and head-shake from her, he shrugs, and goes back to barely paying attention.
Foundation Scions     With an embarrassingly deep sigh, Mesmer looks back out to the group, and says, flat, "Well, everyone is present. Please keep all pets and possessions near your person beyond the security perimeter, and follow me into the grand atrium. From there, we'll depart upon a tour of the laboratories halls, the in-house materials foundry, and, finally, the LSCC museums. Watch out for the wild scientists, they're at-work, and will bite."
Regulus Regulus? Who'se Regulus?? There's no Regulus here! This is Willow Taylor, of course! Who works for the Apple Computer Company. She just happens to look a lot like Regulus if Regulus was wearing a baseball cap with an apple on it (not really too unlikely) with a rainbow apple logo on it. She, like Regulus, is wearing a pair of sunglasses and she, unlike Regulus, has a fabulous (fake) mustache that she's wearing under her nose. Her hair is mysteriously exactly like Regulus's and she's still wearing a polka dotted scarf, much like Regulus would. Completely unlike Regulus she is wearing a pair of dress slacks and an Apple t-shirt that says the word 'APPLE' on it with each letter stylized differently. The A is just a right angle triangle and the P is purple the second P is black and pixelated, the L is solid orange and the E is black cursive style.

"That's right." Willow Taylor says with a British accent. "I'm Willow Taylor, I'm from the Big Apple, NYC, and I'm working with the Apple Computer Company."

She strokes her mustache with her finger to prove it's real, nearly dislodging it entirely in the process.

Maybe it is a joke.

She slowwwly reaches over to the guest-pass the guard is holding out and snags it right as Mesmer is glaring at her without even the slightest ounce of shame.

Okay maybe one ounce of shame, but not two ounces of shamne.

"Outta sight." She says. "This tour is going to be such a gas. Apple ''Computers'' is really happy for the opportunity to make some bread here."

A little bead of sweat drips down Willow's cheek as she rubs her fingers together to indicate she is taking the role of someone who cares about the exchange and the numbers that go up.

It might be a little hard to tell with the sunglasses but she is occassionaly lowering her shades to get a non-tinted look around.

Once she thinks Mesmer is either distracted or apathetic enough she'll find an opportunity to sneak off and get a look-see around for what she's actually here for

She is such a good secret agent you don't even know. Nobody's seen through her disguise except for the one person who has absolutely seen through her disguise and also everybody else.

''Watch out for the wild scientists, they're at-work and will bite.''

It's fine. She's had her shots. It's fine.
Tamamo     "I had been meaning to take a tour earlier, if only the scheduling had fallen into place," Tamamo is saying to Lilian -- and possibly to Petra, who must be kept nearby in accordance with regulations. Tamamo assumes that Petra won't need a reminder of this.

    Upon their meeting, and the receipt of her bright orange access badge, which Tamamo loops to hang from the waist just below her obi, "Good evening, Mesmer Junior."

    'I'm instructed to ask of the avenues for cooperation you and your organizations seek with Laplace.'

    "The 'avenues'... would include the exchange of personnel and artifacts, no? This is already documented, I should hope."

    'Please understand that only means Laplace, and not me, when voicing that.'

    "Oh, that goes without saying, no? It would be 'individuals' who seek cooperation with 'individuals,' rather than 'organizations.'" Deflecting the implicit rejection, maybe.

    'Bank four, unit twenty-three.'

    "Oho?"

    'It's you?'

    "Oh, Miss--? Were you also known as Ms. Taylor, all this time, or is this...?" Tamamo doesn't finish, but the implication should be clear enough. 'Why' Regulus would use a different name is a conditional follow-up question. But Regulus never sounded like a real name to her, in the first place, so she's ready to believe she really is Willow Taylor, at least on government paperwork somewhere.

    'Watch out for the wild scientists, they're at-work, and will bite.'

    Tamamo laughs in a way that suggests a floating 'fufufu' would superimpose the panel. "I had not realized you would tell jokes, after all, Mesmer Junior."
Petra Soroka     All this time, and Petra has not heard anything about what Laplace Science and Computing Center actually *does*. There's the brainwashing machine, of course, that the bitch nurse uses to harass Lilian and lobotomize politically inconvenient deviants, but besides that and some idea of a Psychonauts-esque rehabilitation center, Petra's seen practically none of it for herself. There's a cryptography lead, somewhere, who helped with the Voyager probe, and some of the clerk staff were wandering around the lighthouse while Petra cleaned, but that's all she knows!

    And this is clearly a mad science facility! So where's all the mad science happening??

    None of this curiosity actually factors into why Petra became officially registered as a piece of equipment by an evil tech facility for the second time, though. That's just because Lilian made it so, and somehow no one stopped her.

    Petra is wearing a polyester mesh vest that looks exactly like you expect it does. On the back, below a handle that is presumably there to make her liftable or leashable(?) is a big patch that reads SERVICE DOG // DO NOT SEPARATE DOG FROM HANDLER. Dangling from a breast pocket on the front of the vest is a plastic charm that reads /!\ ASK BEFORE PETTING /!\, and another one with the triangular LSCC logo. Naturally, the black leather collar with its golden lily ornament is around her neck.

    You might expect Petra to look smugly pleased about this situation, but instead she looks like she's trying to hold her breath forcefully enough to burst every blood vessel in her brain. Pink-faced and crossing her arms over her chest, Petra has tears budding up in her eyes before she even gets to the welcome desk, tagging behind Lilian. She glares at Mesmer throughout the introduction, for no real reason besides venting her embarrassment onto an acceptable target, and the frustrated little pout engraved onto her lips is precisely the opposite expression Mesmer's seen on her before as a supervillain.

"I'm instructed to ask of the avenues for cooperation you and your organizations seek with Laplace."

    Petra reaches for a visitor badge automatically, which she'll almost certainly be prevented from getting, given that she's not a visitor. She looks over to Lilian with her big wet eyes for permission before answering the implicit question that wasn't asked.

    "Er-- I'm a roboticist, y-you know." She sounds more like she's defending her dignity than actually making any kind of organizational request. "S-so I heard, that this world's timeline is a bit different from the Earths I'm familiar with, and that you guys had autonomous robots as far back as the 1960s? And also sophont AIs?"

"Bank four, unit twenty-three."

    Momentarily not embarrassed at all by being seen as a service dog, Mesmer's approach towards Lilian makes Petra's hackles raise. She tenses up warily, narrowing her eyes, and then is left uncertainly off-balance when Mesmer says something that doesn't make sense to her and then walks away. She looks over at Lilian, confused.

"I'm Willow Taylor, I'm from the Big Apple, NYC, and I'm working with the Apple Computer Company."

    Hmm. This might be Willow Taylor, Petra thinks. Strange that Mesmer would have such a negative response to this person. Petra probably can't actually sniff Regulus curiously to determine who she is, but she's thinking it in her head.
Aika Rosewater     Time both is and isn't a luxury Aika normally has; the addition of Paladins hours to her already packed "schedule" if it could even be called that had led to both an increase in fulfillment but also a decrease in spare time, social time and even sleep time (that she already neglects!). The fact this would somehow count as both Paladins time and social time was the greatest gift.

    Nevermind the chance and honor of meeting the illustrious Matilda Bouanich (or her coworkers, at the very least) in person. And others, surely!

    Not that she regretted the decision in the slightest, but it meant she'd essentially disappeared in the rank and file until catching a break.

    With things winding down for the last few days, it was time to stretch and meet some people, finally. Learn more about that world she's read and heard so much about, with the Storm and the School of Primary Defense of Mankind, the Timekeeper and dozen other names that had on and off popped up. Not to mention: see another world! How few she'd had gotten to see so far. This was going to be worth every minute spent away from home. Maybe there was something to be gained from seeing how Laplace handles research too; Aika's no scientist, but this had the vibes of visiting a place that had made its purpose research that helps advance (and protect) humanity, and that might well warrant taking notes for her cell.

    So here's Aika, in what is her usual looks; the contrast between her hot pink hair (and cat ears, and tail...) and her dark suit, gloves and all, never fails to make her stand out, though she's gotten the impression that 'not being human' shouldn't stand out too much here, specifically. She stands straight, but not stiff; her steps are practically little skippy hops, excited as she is to be here. The identity of their guide didn't even register as a problem; Mesmer is their host, for now, and that makes the most interesting person in the world, no matter what Aika's heard.

    When she gets to the check-in desk, she hops up to sit on its edge; it's almost an instinct, hands both gently leaning on it to, feet rocking back and forth while awaiting the few guests that haven't arrived yet. The presence of an armed guard registers, but it makes sense; this is a crucial location!

    Mesmer finally speaks, offering up guest passes; Aika's tail swoops hers and she plucks it with a hand, twirling it idly between her fingers like it's a fascinating little greeble she's never seen before, until finally putting it around her neck where it belongs and gently hopping back off the desk to stand again.

    "Thank you thank you!" she brightly offers Mesmer, sticking not an inch of her nose into the momentary exchange with Lilian, and waiting diligently for that to be over before she scoots toward the Dame Commander shamelessly.

    "It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person! Are you more of a titles person in these situation, or the casual first name drop is fine?" It's important to ask.

    Thankfully, she's unarmed and carrying a whole lot of nothing. Following Mesmer's instructions will be a breeze.

"I'm from the Big Apple..."

    If she can stay still, at least; hearing that causes Aika to twirl on one foot, to face the very well disguised Regulus and grin. "You too? Oh, how's yours? Like-- wow I didn't think about how to ask that question before actually, I can't just say 'is it like mine' now can I? I... hm, hm, hm. How do I... maybe I could just visit, sometime? That'd be so cool, seeing other New Yorks."

    Ask to pet.

    "Oh I need one of those so badly ahah. Not that it usually bothers me that much but sometimes you just need space right? Oh would it be impersonal to ask what you use to conceal your dog ears and such? Is it a glamour or a spell or like a really cool hi-tech thingy?" Look, it says service dog. Of course she's going to think it's for real.
Lilian Rook     Lilian is not on tour here today, because, by now, she actually just works here. Not as an employee, mind; just as someone who enjoys all the privileges and has to respect very very few of the obligations! Nor is it the case that she'd decided to pick up another job to fill the void left by graduating university (Trídéag does that just fine), but rather a change of location for what she already does. An upgrade in location really, in most senses; the most important of those are that when she puts her degree to use each week, she can use this building instead of one that her mother owned until almost two years ago. One she has more memories of sneaking into than she does visiting.

    Ostensibly, her purpose here is 'knowing that Tamamo was coming to see the workplace', and not to make Mesmer's life worse. As has become her habit, Lilian is dressed local, too; which is probably also out of a Code-ly sense of professionalism, because strutting about in casual wear through a research complex filled with people in something vaguely similar to 'uniform' would be unbelievably tacky. Given these two factors, it actually looks like she almost belongs, arriving at the door from the other side.

    Wearing a traditional Laplace high collar silver-chrome bolero top plus vaguely space age a-line dress beneath (the left side button-up is nefariously hiding a more lab-safe zipper), the liberties Lilian has taken with her uniform are milder than many employees; using Night Mist (pendant) as a lanyard (gold) accessory seems to be standard even. The proportion of black to silver is very skewed, the long gloves she's wearing go over rather than under the sleeve, and she decided to wear the belt from her 'Foundation' outfit, but really it's very tame compared to--

    Oh okay. She somehow got that kind of dress with a low cut in back, intentionally framing her mostly circular tattoo between the silver bolero collar and black backline; thus cratering its lab safety rating compared to standard and yet still vastly exceeding Mesmer's.

    Distinctly uninterested in Mesmer's spiel (even if she was, she'd be hearing it for the fifth time today), Lilian waves at Tamamo the minute she arrives, hustling right past the guard to take both her hands.

    'I had been meaning to take a tour earlier, if only the scheduling had fallen into place,'

    "No no no, it's fine! It's just enough time to have gotten my workplace almost just as I like it; and to find a few people for you to talk to as well~" she says, by which she means 'arrange my workspace to arbitrary aesthetic standards, feng shui Tamamo won't immediately be critical of, and make a few workplace acquaintances bordering on friends. "I actually sort of want to get you and Medicine Pocket speaking sooner or later. I've been feeling out their research on hereditary arcane traits and the dynamics of bloodline interaction, mutation, and modification, and I'm actually really impressed so far!"

    'Good evening, Mesmer Junior.'

    "Oh. Hello Mesmer Junior. Good luck with the tour and all." For a single, shining, blindingly wonderful instant, Lilian blows off Mesmer's presence and goes right back to Tamamo, dropping her hands and starting to point her out the door towards some specific spot on an upper level through the wall.

    'Bank four, unit twenty-three.'
    'Oho?'

    "What?"

    Lilian glances between the keys, Mesmer, the keys, Tamamo, Mesmer, and then just before opening her mouth, at Petra, whom she just seems to have remembered exists.
Calvin Nash      Calvin arrives in his Demon Marshal uniform, striding in confidently, thick arms swaying purposefully in time with his gait. Arriving at the check-in desk, he lifts his hand to bend the brim of his hat before he realizes it's--

Mesmer Jr., Rehabilitation Center Department Head, FDMO representative, and arcanist.

    "Mesmer," he answers curtly, like he'd un-tip the hat if he could. He takes a badge, clips it on opposite his bronze inverted pentacle badge and lets his hands fall to his hips, where his thumbs find their home in a pair of opposing belt loops. "Marshal Calvin Nash, Southeast Assembly Demon Marshals." She'd undoubtedly recognize the accent.

    "Somebody from your neck of the woods showed an interest in our COMP technology," he says, patting the bulky wrist computer on his right arm. "And the demon summonin' program COMPs was designed to run. I said if anything was gonna happen it was gonna happen the right way. On the books, by the books. Controlled environment. So I talked to the head of the Assembly's Tomorrow Institute and he's interested if Laplace is--"

    Calvin whips his head around at the sound of Petra's voice like someone just shouted a slur. Catching sight of something odd with her getup out of the corner of his eye (maybe it's the vest), he wheels all the way around. This puts both her and the rep from the 'Apple Computer Company' in his field of vision. This is an overwhelming amount of energy between the two of them--each bringing their own, of course, but neither of which a type he needs nor wishes to deal with.

    Petra gets ineffectually admonished first out of old habit, although, perhaps appropriately given Calvin's time-tested method of ineffectual admonishment, most thematically appropriately: He takes one look at her outfit, and on pure instinct tilts his head imperiously and points a warding finger at her as one would a dog considering mischief.

    "*Why.*"

    Like someone in a Mexican standoff quickly keeping an eye on targets in the room, he then switches the same look towards Regulus. She doesn't get any words, just the don't-knock-over-the-garbage-can look that Petra got.
Lilian Rook     'Er-- I'm a roboticist, y-you know.'

    "You're a lot of things." Lilian says, and wordlessly slips the keys into a belt pocket, tamping down nameless dread. She decides, for an uncommon change of pace, not to humiliate Petra any further than this. She's feeling pretty good after this whole plan worked purely by virtue of 'everyone involved thought it was really really funny'.

    ''Willow Taylor', hardware distribution manager of... Apple Computer Company? That's interesting. I'm sure it will be just a moment.'

    "Oh that's-- Isn't it nineteen twenty-eight?" Lilian catches herself midway through almost casually agreeing with Mesmer. She narrows her eyes towards the warpgate.

    'I'm Willow Taylor, I'm from the Big Apple, NYC, and I'm working with the Apple Computer Company.'

    Lilian glances towards the guard, glances towards Regulus, and then shares a long look with the security guard that communicates words best understood through the shared wavelength of 'people who have been posted around important people they don't necessarily like and told to protect them from people they like slightly less'. The movement of her eyes, the slight asymmetrical shrug, the expression of pausing on a specific word; it all says 'I mean, you can rough her up and throw her out if you want. I'm kinda considering it myself.'

    "I see. What a relief it's someone with a career. For a moment, I'd thought someone who's already been rejected before might have been trying to sneak in." Lilian monotones as unconvincingly as possible. "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Taylor."

    'Oh would it be impersonal to ask what you use to conceal your dog ears and such? Is it a glamour or a spell or like a really cool hi-tech thingy?'

    That cheers Lilian right back up. She starts to laugh through her nose, covers up half her face with her hand, and barely chokes out "Well, I'd hardly presume as to direct the tour away from our qualified staff. I have the time to tag along." Which is a very funny way of saying that she has whatever hours she wants here.
Lilian Rook     '"*Why.*"'

    'Thankfully', Lilian is ready to answer this question. Because of course she is.

    "Doctor Lilian Rook, private consultant and field acquisitions contractor for Laplace Scientific Computing Center." she says, to someone who already knows who she is, even extending it as far as a handshake. "That's Petra. She's my registered service animal." She shoots Mesmer a look, but doesn't say anything. "Her role is to assist me in the lab. Please don't stress her unduly, or it'll compromise the efficiency of my work." Oh this is so some kind of fucked up authority game.
Petra Soroka "Oh I need one of those so badly ahah."

    Petra's flustered lips-open half smile immediately flips over into a perfectly mirrored frown. If she did in fact have ears, they'd be pressed flat against her head right now. The self-conscious tears that she'd successfully fought down well back up, and she makes a distressed whine.

    "You dooooooooooooooon't need one! You don't! Come on...."

"*Why.*"

    "It's legallll!" Petra's first protest starts to build up into a shout and then abruptly cuts off and lowers so she isn't yelling in the hallways. This might be the least effort Calvin's ever needed to invoke shame in Petra, since she was already ninety percent of the way there simply by existing in public. Hushing her voice but doggedly keeping the distraught edge to her tone, "It's just the rules. I've gotta wear it."

"You're a lot of things."

    Every scrap of attention from Lilian outweighs the stares from a hundred scientists, though. Petra naturally takes Lilian referring to her at all as some kind of compliment, nodding still with a nasally stuffy voice. "I'm so multifaceted."

"Her role is to assist me in the lab."

    Well now she's winning again! Being *Doctor* Lilian Rook's assistant is basically the highest honor she could want in a laboratory, and maybe someday she'll be able to upgrade that assistance from hourly stress relief to maybe handing her a screwdriver or something! The sudden switch from soggy whining to pridefully pushing her chest out causes one of the tears built up in her eyes to roll down her cheek, even while she huffs haughtily.

    Finally circling back around to answer Aika's questions now that she's normalish, "I don't need to hide ears 'cause I don't have any. Er, I have two, but, you know. Um, these ones." She pushes her hair aside to show a human ear.
Calvin Nash Oh would it be impersonal to ask what you use to conceal your dog ears and such?

    "She don't have none," says Calvin testily, waving his downturned palm across his chest in a negating gesture, attempting to pour hot oil on whatever this is from his crenellated tower before he has to see them in his courtyard.

It's legallll!

     Calvin's face nearly purples with indignation, his eyes almost bulging out of his head. Something about that answer incenses him. 'It's legal' is never and should never be the first defense of something. He's about to say something much to this effect, his index raised like a shitty(er) Zeus about to hurl a lightning bolt, when--

She's my registered service animal. Her role is to assist me in the lab.

    His hand is still free for Lilian's handshake, but he pauses, hesitating. Lilian can see the gears turning behind his eyes, practically hear the clatter of some mechanism into place as they shift between her and Petra. It's absolutely some kind of fucked up authority game. Does he approve? Uncertain. Does he let it rest there? Calvin shakes Lilian's hand firmly even though they've already met--yes, without a doubt.
Tamamo     'I actually sort of want to get you and Medicine Pocket speaking sooner or later.'

    "Oh, yes, I did mention wishing to meet Ms. Pocket, did I not? Perhaps that was spoken elsewhere." She assumed 'miss' a while ago and no one happened to say otherwise.

    Lilian glances between the keys, Mesmer, the keys, Tamamo...

    Tamamo slooowly tilts her head to one side, between curiosity and confusion.

    'That's Petra. She's my registered service animal.'

    "I was simply bringing her here, of course." Logistically speaking, Tamamo brought Petra here. Legally speaking, the prior statement is true. Emotionally speaking, Petra's state can be partially understood by the logistical and legal necessity of Tamamo holding her handle through an office.
Regulus Regulus quirks her head at Calvin and immediately bumps into a trash bin. She steadies it with her hand, at least, so it doesn't tumble over. Of course, her Plan B is still pretty much 'Make like a pyrus communis and disapPEAR.' but, like, she's sort of hoping it's just too much of a bother to get rid of her and is explicitely hoping that Mesmer will just roll her eyes and think 'stupid arcanist shit'. She didn't really plan for the fact that some of the people on the tour might actually know her, though.

''Oh, Miss--? Were you also known as Ms. Taylor, all this time, or is this...?''

Regulus grimaces. She doesn't want to lie to Tamamo not because she's unwilling to, exactly, like she would if she needed to but Tamamo is just so endearingly polite that it's hard. Sometimes people are just so sincere you can't lie to them. She lowers her voice, "Um, probably that second thing, Miss." she whispers to her.

''SERVICE DOG''

Regulus raises her hand.

''ASK BEFORE PETTING''

Regulus lowers her hand. What came over her?! She doesn't know but she hopefully avoided getting bit by the wild scientist that's part of the tour (Petra builds supervillain robots so she is a scientist in Regulus's book).

''You too?''

Oh no! Someone else is from New York City! Regulus was trying to use Slick City Slang to prove she's a New Yorker but what if this Aika figures out she's not actually from New York-- Ah, that's it! She'll just say she's from a different New York if it comes to that. Regulus, you're a genius!

She raises a hand and places it on Aika's shoulder gently as she looks right into her eyes.

"It's a place... Where I can freely say...." She lifts her sunglasses triumphantly with her other hand. "I'm Walkin' here."

She makes it sound like she's talking about the immigrant experience and the soaring hope and joy of finding a new home in America--the land of the free!--but she's actually just referrencing Ratzo Rizzo.

She looks back to Calvin, a rather unearned confident smile rising upon her lips.

''Isn't it nineteen twenty-eight?''

Apple Computer didn't exist in 1966 either. She's totally willing to lie to Lilian though. "Different New York, ma'am." She says. "It's good to see you too, ma'am."

''That's Petra. She's my registered service animal.''

Regulus looks at Petra again. Regulus has run into Petra a lot of times in the multiverse and each time she's, like, in some other new role and this is just another new role. In a way, that should make it LESS surprising but it doesn't actually work that way at all because Service Animal Petra and someone just saying Service Animal Petra is still weird. Calvin is treating it as weird so it must still be weird right?

''It's legallll!''

"W..well so long as it's legal, Apple Computer Hardware has no complaints about human service animals." Regulus manages. "Business." She adds.
Aika Rosewater "She don't have none."

    Aika lives in the world where she was told that people with animal features (or forms) aren't The Norm, a brief misunderstanding she had in the hopeful situation that other Elites were 'like her', and the world where she currently has Tamamo to look at, and Petra being introduced firmly as a service dog. Of course she's completely normal about being alongside what she may well consider 'her kind', even if it couldn't be further from the truth in both cases.

    Then Petra confirms, much to a cat's horror.

    "Oh. I'm so sorry. Was there like... an accident? I can't imagine losing mine, that'd be absolutely dreadful."

    Her cat ears even droop back sadly just a bit, as if struck preemptively by the event. Losing such an important part of herself...

    "Though if you don't want to talk about it to some stranger you just met I'd understand. Aika by the way. Or just Rose."
Foundation Scions     Petra is, indeed, prevented from getting a visitor badge- Mesmer pulls them away from her with a glare, and a follow-up comment Lilian's way instead of Petra's, "Please keep your service animal in control. She's lunging."

    Mesmer Jr. is, for all the records she's been able to submit, as both an employee of the LSCC and representative of the Foundation's management-body for multiversal relations, opposed to the notion that Petra or any off-world actor could be offered 'service animal' status, but, unfortunately, it wasn't her call to make! She's not exactly sure if it was done in jest, considering the gravity other departments have treated the designation with, and all the bureaucratic work that's gone into ensuring Lilian's medical rights won't be trespassed, on this locus, it's harder and harder to imagine it's just a joke. That she's seen more forum posts lately about using the designation as precedent, surely, can't mean anything good.

    'Er-- I'm a roboticist, y-you know.'

    "Congratulations. Laplace hosts more than a few roboticists as well, though, much of their work now rests in the maintenance and repurposing of assets, rather than... 'invention'." She pauses, taking a moment to try and remember history of a field unrelated to hers, "That information is accurate. The invention of the electronic computer precedes immediately the invention of the autonomous robot, in the heights of mid-20th century technological acceleration. In fact, before the end of the 1960s, mankind itself had placed a human on the surface of the moon." She thinks that's also bound to have been earlier than, for instance, Petra's world.

'Oh I need one of those so badly ahah.'

    Under-breath, Mesmer Jr. mouths out an "Ew, gross. You and everyone else." What does that mean?

'So I talked to the head of the Assembly's Tomorrow Institute and he's interested if Laplace is--'

    With a bit of pause-time, for the understandable shock, Mesmer waits, looking Calvin's way, before prompting him again- "'Tomorrow Institute'? I'm certain that if you've been in talks with coworkers of mine, we have information on file, but, it wasn't delivered to me. It won't do to delay the start of the tour any longer, but if you'd continue what you had to say as we walk, that's sure to be efficient." A pause, and a bit more displeased-sounding, "'Demon summoning', is it?"

    'I had not realized you would tell jokes, after all, Mesmer Junior.'

    "It's not a joke." It's probably a joke. The guard laughs, which, actually, could be points towards either.
Foundation Scions https://imgur.com/vDZRBU2

    Laplace's atrium is a grand, open space, at risk of being overtaken by the encroachment of copper piping, humming machinery, wires, and computer consoles, some of which even are staffed by, as stated, wild flocks of scientists fussing over whatever processes are running on them. Underfoot, chrome-plated robots roll around, beeping and trying to get out of the way before causing trips and falls, and high up in the middle of the atrium, rounded metal office-pods float, like alien saucers in the sky. Here, on a lower level, the central opening of the building towers above.

    "The atrium is considered to be distinctive, and architecturally famous. Apparently, a design principle in its construction was that there were to be no straight edges in its shape or walkway paths, in order to be more natural and distract less from the flow of work. Personally, I find it inconvenient to push equipment through, but it's rare that materials have to be brought down from the Rehabilitation Center." Is that a jab? She's voiced it like it's some sort of jab, but there's no target. Is she trying to snark at a building?

    Through the atrium-lining walkways, Mesmer takes to walking backwards, somehow less-than-awkwardly even in her uniform's heeled boots. Either she trusts the guard in front of her to clear a path, or simply doesn't care in the slightest if a rolling cart comes by and flattens her.

    "Within this complex, you'll find science teams solving problems ranging from a fix to the 'Storm' that plagues our world, to simulations of small personnel management, cutting-edge electronic, and arcane, equipment, or therapeutic medicine. A density of the top minds of the worlds intended to preserve and accelerate technological progress, in order to return to the future, one way or another. The warpgate you all came through, was, in fact, the flashiest marvel of the Computing Center, but what isn't visible here are the technological systems to establish globe-spanning observation posts for analyzing the phenomena involved with the Storm, and other arcane disasters." Mesmer sighs. Technically, the Storm isn't, known, to be related to arcanum. Also, she's avoidant of bringing up the fact that Laplace is noteworthy for its employment of arcanists, and barely glossing over the fact that arcanum is common in each of the organization's fields! Come on, Mesmer!

. . .

    While all that is happening, in the walk before even getting to the atrium, the tour group passed by a closed, sealed, keycard-accessed door near the warpgate room- directly adjacent, actually. Regulus, had she done any mission-prep, would know or have been told that within that room is machinery to make the contraption function. Despite Mesmer as an escort, and her guard, and the rest of the group, the hallways are busy enough to try and get lost in the crowd, or brush up against a keycard that probably works to get her in, should she not have already figured out a bypass.

    Within, one-way mirror walls look out onto a side of the warpgate chamber, and a line of computer banks sit beside esoteric chrome-plated machinery, signed with various functions, energy-pumps, and flux stabilizers, with requisite nixie-tube indicator readouts. Making sense of any of it would take more time than today allows, but photographs, or rummaged-through discs of system diagnostic info, are takeable, and not hard to keep on one's person afterwards.

. . .

    "... So, with that behind us, I believe I heard speak of visiting Laplace's researcher 'Medicine Pocket'?" Mesmer sighs, less annoyed-sounding than she could be, "Our next stop is the laboratories- Regulus, Ms. Taylor, whichever it is, please keep up, you sound out of breath, and it's exceptionally distracting. I suppose we'll take the elevators, and not the stairs."
Tamamo     'Oh I need one of those so badly ahah.'

    "Is--" Tamamo blinks. "Is that common?" It's never happened around her, and now she wonders why, while still fundamentally, firmly disapproving.

    'It's just enough time to have gotten my workplace almost just as I like it...'

    "I should like to see, of course, after the tour."

    'Marshal Calvin Nash, Southeast Assembly Demon Marshals.'

    "Though we have been introduced, I believe this to be our first meeting in person, Mr. Nash. I am Tamamo-no-mae, as you may have known."

    She glances toward his wrist. "Demon summoning programs, is it...?"

    'It's just the rules. I've gotta wear it.'

    "That is, of course, the case." Legally.

    'Um, probably that second thing, Miss.'

    Tamamo gives Regulus what's probably an understanding nod. That is, she probably understands.

    'I'm so sorry. Was there like... an accident?'

    Tamamo's poker face is truly excellent, when she tries. The pause in her movement still gives some suppressed reaction away.
Lilian Rook     'I don't need to hide ears 'cause I don't have any. Er, I have two, but, you know. Um, these ones.'

    Lilian watches Ptra puff her chest out while crying, and the hand she'd used to cover her near-laugh comes back to cover up an irresistible gasp of . . . something, instead. She stares at her so wide it makes her look abnormal. "Mhm. Mhm, so multifaceted." Lilian forces out, trying to sound conversational.

    'Oh, yes, I did mention wishing to meet Ms. Pocket, did I not? Perhaps that was spoken elsewhere.'

    Lilian opens her mouth, freezes, closes it, and mutters "Fffffuck you Sea Monkey." under her breath. She didn't ask! She just noticed after like thirty consecutive 'theys' and went along with it! Fuck! "I just think it'd be great if you two had something in common too, you know? Instead of it being just business and all!"

    'It's good to see you too, ma'am.'

    "Too?" Lilian arches an eyebrow. She forgot already.

    'Please keep your service animal in control. She's lunging.'

    Lilian replies with the most supremely half-assed, incidentally condescending "Mhm." she can manage; which is a lot. She starts to roll her eyes, then loses interest in even that. Pulling Petra back by the vest, she glances to the guard, then doesn't even shrug or shake her head. She releases her hold on Petra four absentminded seconds later anyways.

    'Ew, gross. You and everyone else.'

    Now she rolls her eyes. Like 'why'd they send a Mesmer to do this?'

    'I had not realized you would tell jokes, after all, Mesmer Junior.'
    'It's not a joke.'

    "She has her moments." Lilian says with a half-smile, not looking Mesmer's way.

    'I should like to see, of course, after the tour.'

    "Mhm, mhm, naturally~ It's not like anyone would mind." Maybe someone would mind, actually. Probably Mesmer. As far as Lilian knows, most of Laplace is just dying to see everything she does, and showing her glamorous spouse-to-be around their (her) (their) office space is probably well within the domain of what they'd rather enable than repress. "Come on~ I can go check the lockers later~"

    'The atrium is considered to be distinctive, and architecturally famous. Apparently, a design principle in its construction was that there were to be no straight edges in its shape or walkway paths, in order to be more natural and distract less from the flow of work.'

    "Oh, they used something like that for constructing Sapient Heuristics' lab as well!" Lilian chats to Tamamo along the way, completely talking over Mesmer's criticism of the concept as if she weren't there. "It's something about how the natural shape allows you to think while navigating rather than fix on the inconographic signs of navigating; corners and intersections are so artificial that we get 'highway hypnosis' even just walking around in a hurry. It's also meant to be more condusive to eliminating mental stress when moving away from your station, which I do agree with, having worked there for a while." She throws it around like a credential, but the credential really is 'have participated in being studied there'.

    "The Storm isn't actually classified as an arcane disaster, by the way." she says, in the exact tone of enthusiastically correcting a museum curator about a niche interest while on a tour with a date.
Regulus Regulus leans in to aside to Calvin. "...Apple Computers ... is interested in COMPuters." She doesn't want Calvin to think that just because she's here on another mission there's no interest. She just can't really get into the COMP stuff too much right now because she's not being Regulus right now, even if it's only in a sort of half disguise way.

Regulus almost definitely isn't a real name but she's definitely not willing to say what her 'real name' is in part because Regulus is the real name for the real her whatever the GOVERNMENT PAPERS say which they don't say anything because her entire timeline was erased. Nothing out there can really label her as anything else. Even the wanted posters said Regulus but such as it is.

''Demon summoning, is it?''

Uggh, yeah almost everyone knows she's Regulus but she still can't go and give her pitch in this situation! Why'd he have to get in touch with Mesmer, the worst person in Laplace he could have gone to! She is going to have to find some other way to spin this but she can't let a secondary objective get in the way of her priamry one here.
5rSome of the tour is actually interesting to hear, Regulus thinks, but she's gonna have to skip out on some of it becaaause...

She spots a lady being a little careless with her security keycard. Regulus is pretty confident she could, with enough time, override the security locks and even subtly in a way that doesn't immediately out her as a trespasser (you know, besides her current disguise) but just because she can doesn't mean it's the most efficient path forward. She brushes past someone and slips their keycard into her sleeve before slowing down towards the back of the tour before--

. . .

Regulus slips into the warpgate room, hoping she's not going to get that researcher she just filched from into too much trouble. Regulus is a silly billy, but this has been Vertin's main task for her nearly since she's joined and it's important to occassionally leave Vertin gifts of dead mice. Or Laplace proprietary secrets.

Can Regulus figure out a warpgate's functionality and get back to the tour group before anybody thinks something is amiss? No! Of course not! But that's why she's not going to try to. Instead, she removes her hat where APPLe holding a portable camera is waiting. Her loyal first mate is enough of a machinist himself to know what pictures to take without direct orders from the captain but Regulus uses that time to filter through the discs. She doesn't want to take too many--one or two discs can be misplaced, more than that and it might actually cause a serious stir. She quietly slides a couple floppies into her bag, whistles for APPLe to get back onto her head and puts her hat back on.

...And then runs all the way back.

''You sound out of breath, and it's exceptionally distracting.''

"Hahh...hahh...well you know... we work long hours... at APPLe computers..." Regulus is actually breathing heavily. It might be a bit before she can sneak off again just by virtue of that alone. She power-walked the hell all the way back.

She blinks her eyes slowly, though, as some short-mid term memory starts to spark inside her skull and she quickly spins around to look behind her.

. . . . . . .

Nothing there. Not this time. Regulus breathes a sigh of relief. She had actually forgotten about The Robot until just this moment. Maybe Petra was bluffing. Or maybe the robot is slow.
Petra Soroka "Business."

    "Oh my god." Petra blinks, suddenly realizing and focusing on Regulus properly, a full five to ten minutes after everyone else has noticed. "It's Regulus. No one else could make one word sound that jobless. Why are you here?"

"Was there like... an accident?"

    "Shot off in the war," Petra says solemnly. She's recovered enough from the ordeal of being walked here by Tamamo while wearing this getup that she can now start making jokes again, and so she starts by making one that literally can't be funny to anyone else. Her serious expression splits and she starts snickering uncontrollably to herself, covering it up with her hand.

    "I'm always gaining or losing limbs, really." Petra starts this remark expecting it to be another one of her funny jokes, and then halfway through gets distracted by reflecting on how often it's actually true. She shakes her head to clear her thoughts away. "Aika. I know, like, a million Roses."

"Please keep your service animal in control. She's lunging."

    This comment from Mesmer suddenly elevates Petra's understanding of how humiliating this is going to be. The moment that anyone besides Lilian or Tamamo starts referring to her with terms used for animals-- really, despite how often everyone calls her a pet, no one ever sticks the landing-- Petra is staggered by a wave of exhibitionist horror. She covers her face with her hands, muffling a quiet moan.

"The invention of the electronic computer precedes immediately the invention of the autonomous robot, in the heights of mid-20th century technological acceleration."

    Once the tour properly gets started, the LSCC is actually kind of... awesome? The uncomfortable balance between sterility and smoothness, half hospital, half laboratory, and half astrofuturistic art display, slams right into the center of Petra's aesthetic fascination. Little greebly robot fellows rolling and flying around increases her affinity further, to the point that it could only be improved by the presence of abundant houseplants and more cramped corridors.

    She's energetically looking around, pulling out Twopence to float alongsied her as if the ratbot will appreciate being among his kind. "Huh! And what are robotics usually *used* for, in here? I mean, I know there's security robots out there, but private security is kind of the absolute cesspool worst of technology. Like, I can't imagine you guys are particularly specialized in making weapons, right? There's a lot of work going into using magic to work with machinery, right?"

"I suppose we'll take the elevators, and not the stairs."

    Petra has been basically running loops around the group to inspect all of her little points of interest, easily quadrupling the effort she expends per distance traveled, but unlike Regulus she's totally fine. "No, no, the stairs. She needs it."
Tamamo     'It's not a joke.' It's probably a joke.

    "Oh, dear. Do they lunge, too?"

    Proceeding into the atrium, Tamamo looks up and asks, "Those floating chambers, are they additional rooms? Though I cannot see doors from this angle."

    '...in order to be more natural and distract less from the flow of work.'

    If Tamamo criticized the feng shui every time she was given a tour of a place, they would take so much longer. Better to simply smile and nod, sometimes, while speaking low enough for anyone farther away than Lilian to likely not hear her, "I am certain they did their best."

    '...systems to establish globe-spanning observation posts...'

    "Those need be constructed immediately following each instance of the Storm, is that so?"
Regulus ''It's Regulus.''

"Um. Nuh uh. I mean. I got a job. Because everybody told me to get a job. So I got a job at Apple." Regulus is sort of filing away that Petra is uniquely susceptible to scooby doo level disguises.

''No, no, the stairs. She needs it.''

"I will breathe ''so much''." Regulus threatens (well warns really, it's not like Regulus will have any choice in the matter) Mesmer. She wishes she knew the average speed of the robot but until she does she's just going to have to be on guard.
Calvin Nash Was there like... an accident? I can't imagine losing mine, that'd be absolutely dreadful.

    Calvin's free hand rises to meet his falling head and rest, tightly, over the bridge of his nose. He straightens his back and pulls his head free with effort.

I'm walkin' here.

    Regulus' confident smile meets the side of Calvin's head, his eyes locked forward in a stone-faced death march past this conversation. "Anyway." The word is spritzed into the air like a sanitizer.

I believe this to be our first meeting in person, Mr. Nash. I am Tamamo-no-mae, as you may have known.

     Up to this point one would be forgiven for thinking that Calvin's main emotional states are primarily annoyance, stone-faced put-upon perseverance and near-outbursts. Tamamo, who he has met through association with Lilian, who he largely also respects, is met with a bright smile and a nod. "Yes ma'am, I seen a real polite lady stickin' close to Lilian and figured that must be you. Good to meet you in person, too." He offers her a firm handshake like Lilian had gotten, although this one isn't to agree upon silence over an ongoing display of authority, but an exuberant relief to meet someone normal--what Calvin believes is a dwindling pool.
Calvin Nash It won't do to delay the start of the tour any longer, but if you'd continue what you had to say as we walk, that's sure to be efficient.

    "Right. I guess maybe it ain't reached you yet. It was Regulus. Who I understand ain't part of Laplace, but I hear Vertin keeps her around. I told 'er she needed to run it by Vertin."

...Apple Computers ... is interested in COMPuters.

     Calvin leans in and asides back, flatly, "You're 'bout as subtle as skeletons fuckin' on a tin roof. Now quiet down and let me handle it."

    Calvin leans away from Regulus and clears his throat. "The Tomorrow Institute's the beatin' heart of technology in the Assembly," he continues for Mesmer's benefit. "Really, in the States, period. Engineers, programmers, chemists, you name it, most of ours come from there or studied there."

'Demon summoning', is it?

    "It's a fact of life in 2042," says Calvin to Tamamo and Mesmer alike with a shrug. It must be, for his uniform and that accent to go together like they do. In any 'normal' America's south, especially in the 90s, no doubt that uniform, with its pentacle badge, would have Calvin decried as a servant of the devil or the Antichrist or whatever else. "Been one since 1994." The metal of his badge reflects the lights of the atrium as he passes beneath them.

    "Before then, before the demon summoning program, and the COMP, it was more dangerous and harder. Not just 'cause the barrier between worlds was stronger. The program translates, automates contracts and rituals, watches the demons'... vitals, I 'spose, and stores 'em digitally so you don't gotta choose between constantly bleedin' off energy havin' 'em out or dismissin' 'em and payin' an arm and a leg to bring 'em into the physical world again."

     "Regulus mentioned y'all got technology that's kinda similar. Rituals stored on disks. Figured that's why she's interested, and why y'all might be, too."

Apparently, a design principle in its construction was that there were to be no straight edges in its shape or walkway paths, in order to be more natural and distract less from the flow of work.

     Calvin has never thought about the intentionality of designed spaces before. The shapes are natural, to his eyes, as they wander across them. "Reminds me of pine trees, a little," he says conversationally to the other tourgoers, gesturing towards the edges of the walls.

The Storm isn't actually classified as an arcane disaster, by the way.

     "Didn't know that. Fact somebody'd say it is, goes back to that 'sorcerer-kings' shit, you ask me," Calvin asides to Lilian, hand cupped over his mouth.
Tamamo     'I just think it'd be great if you two had something in common too, you know? Instead of it being just business and all!'

    "Oh? Is the research that...? I suppose I do have some personal interset in the matter, as well. 'Hereditary arcane traits' and 'bloodline interaction,' was it? This is a rather complex topic, even with the broadest possible understanding of it." Tamamo'd been ready to gloss over it in favor of the thing she already had to investigate -- though that's less important, now, with other events having happened. But since Lilian says that, she's ready to shift focus to listening to a scientist talk about their research.

    'It's also meant to be more condusive to eliminating mental stress when moving away from your station, which I do agree with, having worked there for a while.'

    "Oh, is that so?" Tamamo, who has never been an office worker, and isn't thinking about Lilian having never been one, still sounds pleasantly engaged. "Avoiding corners... seems as if it would be rather difficult without a great deal of additional space." She's looking at how wide-open the view (from the tour's path) is.

    'The Storm isn't actually classified as an arcane disaster, by the way.'

    "It has seemed to me as if 'arcane' is used in a rather more strict manner than 'magic' is commonly used, elsewhere, even if the terms are synonyms." She doesn't mention her own technical definitions of 'magic.' That would probably just be confusing, and they don't match up with 'arcane (local),' either.
Aika Rosewater "I'm walkin' here."

    Regulus' pristine act doesn't get any bite back from Aika. She simply takes the pirate at her word, allowing just a bit of her accent to bleed through the forced not-quite-stiff but blander dialect she normally uses.

    "Well damn what were the odds. You more from the gully parts of town or like, the city?" She does not seem to mind all the hostility directed at Regulus. She's just happy to meet people.

"Ew, gross. You and everyone else."

    "Gross? It's utilitarian though! Like-- wearing your heart on your sleeve. Being transparent. Y'gotta like, communicate the facts with people. Be upfront! Little fashion accessories that help people read you are just a neat idea. Or ones that address a very specific possibly frequent problem?"

    The idea that this is something much less normal doesn't cross her mind. And surely, the Dame Commander would neither lie, nor be doing weird fucked up things. Ergo: this is normal, and not worth overthinking.

"Is that common?"

    "When I'm in cat form, yeah. Usually kids, sometimes random people on the streets. I mean I get it, y'see a cat napping on some stairs, y'wanna pet the cat, but some days a little like... badge, pin... something like that. It'd help yeah?"

    She at least rejects even suggesting it could be a collar tag. Although... it's not like the idea doesn't cross her mind briefly.

"Shot off in the war

    Aika frowns, transparently horrified on Petra's behalf since she seems so nonchalant about it. "That must have been violent. Well I'm glad you're not letting it stop you!" Service animals are noble helpers. She can only suppose it makes sense people like her would have varied, like... jobs and roles and such.

"Aika. I know, like, a million Roses."

    "Mhm fair. It's a distinction I like to make-- 'Ms. Rosewater' is my mom. I'd rather people shorten it if they're going to do that. It's not quite the right shade," she says, motioning towards her hair, "But I like it."

Demon Summoning

    Aika's ears perk up, and she turns her head towards Mesmer and Calvin, suddenly quite focused. "Is that a huge problem here too?" Her experience with it is more along the lines of 'which asshole played with the Forbidden Orb and made horrors from beyond crawl out of it this week, but it's hard not to wonder what sorts of problems everyone else has to sort out on the regular.
Tamamo     He offers her a firm handshake like Lilian had gotten,

    Calvin's firm handshake is met by Tamamo's much less firm one, more of a soft grasping. Outwardly, the motion is fully correct. "It is a pleasure to meet you properly." Even if it's happening in the middle of something else. That's as much as many Paladins get, as it tends to happen... a trifle oddly, if she thinks of it.

    'Rituals stored on disks.'

    "Oh, I have seen one of these." Exactly once. "Digital storage of demons... may be further outside my own experience, though such seems to be more in line with the techniques of certain worlds than others. How interesting to see where the similarities begin and end, like unexpected colors splashed across a painting's surface, yet forming coherently into the whole."

    'I will breathe ''so much''.'

    "Do be careful, Ms. Taylor. You would not want to hyperventilate."

    Petra has been basically running loops around the group.

    Tamamo takes a hold of Petra's handle for just a moment. Performing what, if it really is humoring Mesmer's earlier comment, would certainly be an act of evil, she says, "Behave."

    Sorry, Calvin. The relationship between these four women cannot possibly be normal.

    'Y'gotta like, communicate the facts with people. Be upfront! Little fashion accessories that help people read you are just a neat idea.'

    Tamamo looks between Aika and certain aspects of Mesmer's appearance. "Where one does not do so by intent, one performs such communication by accident."

    'When I'm in cat form, yeah.'

    "Oh, I see," says Tamamo, mollified about something never stated.
Petra Soroka "Reminds me of pine trees, a little,"

    "Yeah. It kind of does, doesn't it?" This is an especially pleasant sentiment for Petra, whose immense fondness for both pine forests and bleach-soaked concrete facilities could otherwise be seen as contradictory. She ambles around cheerfully in the Laplace labs, adding a few reputation points to Calvin in her head, for saying something good and nice.

"When I'm in cat form, yeah.

    Soon after that, her energetic flouncing around is cut short by Tamamo yanking on the handle on the scruff of her vest. She yelps, choked by her own momentum, and then obediently slinks back to fold back into the group clinging behind Lilian and Tamamo. It's hard to tell whether she's more embarrassed about being treated that way or just because of shame at 'misbehaving' in her role. "Sorry ma'am."

    Aika, though, makes Petra wheel around and point her finger out accusingly, her 'Ask to pet' charm clattering against her vest. "Nope! No. You can't be doing that. You can't just be turning into your cat form and laying around in public for people to touch you. You can't."

    Oddly personally incensed by this and doing very little to dispel the notion that she's also an animal person, "Look, there's a certain kind of intimacy that only exists between humans and pets. The fact that animals don't have the same concepts of autonomy and personal boundaries as a person allows the person to lower their guard in turn, you know? Fundamentally, an animal isn't precious about physical contact in the same way, and because of that, people are fine petting and snuggling and doing all kinds of silly things with them. By being a completely sapient being *disguising* yourself as an animal and lounging around unsuspecting bystanders, you're *intruding* on that. You're subjecting people who can't know any better to a form of intimacy they're not aware they're participating in for *your* benefit. That's freak shit. Don't do that."
Foundation Scions 'It's a fact of life in 2042'

    "I'll look forwards to it, if I live that long. It's impossible to say how many years that will be." Dry, sarcastic.

'Regulus mentioned y'all got technology that's kinda similar. Rituals stored on disks.'

    "Yes, though that's a painfully vague explanation of more than a few discrete technologies. Expendable, manufactured ritual-disks, I'm sure she means, but, you'll hardly find a device here that doesn't have a computationally-integrated ritual." A sigh, like she's trying so hard not to wrinkle her nose up, I'll... forward you, when I get around to it, a list of researchers that voice interest in the topic. I'm sure it will keep a lot of them busy to ask about, and if you get something out of that, it's none of my business either way."

'Gross? It's utilitarian though!'

    Aika earns herself a flat stare, wordless, and despicably judgmental. She moves a hand, something marked on the clipboard- it could be a note, it could be an angry scribble, it could be her begging any god watching to kill her on the spot.

'Avoiding corners... seems as if it would be rather difficult without a great deal of additional space.'

    There is, in fact, a large amount of space- the complex is a flagship campus for an, at a time, world-spanning scientific organization, fitting as much as it can inside an enormous building creates a centralized nexus of cross-field research- and hasn't stopped at all the need to expand to annexes, visible only through sign-boards and views out hallway-ending windows.

'The Storm isn't actually classified as an arcane disaster, by the way.'

    "There's a number of theories. You're welcome to subscribe to a different one, disagreement based on a lack of tested, objective fact, is enshrined as unenforceable to prevent."

'No, no, the stairs. She needs it.'

    Mesmer stops in her track, right at the base of one of the atrium-climbing elevator columns, her hand nearly on the control for it. Sighing, and turning on heels, full-deadpan, "You're right. The Laplace Rehabilitation Center endorses the maintenance of healthy exercise habits, stairs it is."
Foundation Scions     It's a half-lap around the atrium, seeing more of it, brushing past more busy workers, seeing more angles of the complex, to get to a wide set of criss-crossing stairways, up and down the building. Nothing about the comparative inconvenience of stairs for carrying materials up or down seems to stop the hurried travelers from carrying boxes of papers, components, and reagents up and down, and it's likely that the posted signs indicating that rolling carts are banned on the stairway is there for a specific reason.

    Per directions labelled on the walls, laboratory levels exist up, down, and out in annexes, but in part to continue a circuit of a tour, there's a demand to go higher up, before inevitably circling back down. Laplace Biology's laboratory quarter, specifically, is a few floors and double-that flights of stairs upwards. Mesmer stays at the front of the group, both because she's leading, and because she'd rather not be breathing audibly harder with anyone close enough to hear. Does she get any cardio in, ever?

    "The laboratories here are in-use, so please, you're welcome to look in windows, but don't enter any of the rooms without permission, especially any with warning-signs posted on the doors. Laplace Scientific Computing Center, per prior-signed waivers, is not responsible for the infection or vectoring of any pathogens, nor any contaminant exposure."

    To emphasize this, Mesmer taps a sign posted on one of the corners, right before a long, chrome-and-glass hallway extends into the meat of the building, lined with windows into the wetlabs in question. On it, in cartoonish warnings, crossed-out depictions of picking up and licking a petri dish, pricking fingers on broken, potion-spilling glass, and poking a colleague with a syringe.

    And, as if on cue, rounding a corner behind the group, a labcoat-clad scientist with two-tone hair, loosely pinned-up with surgical clamps, pulls out of a near collision by looking up from a mobile communicator just in time- and their attention locks right onto Petra with the same muted-fortune expression as having found a quarter on the floor. Biology Department Head, Medicine Pocket says, alarmingly relaxed, "Heyyyy, can you gimme your arm for a second?"

    Nearly as soon as they ask, they stick their pager between their teeth, and do a left-handed 'come closer' gesture, subtly hiding that they've got an autosyringe held in their right. The moment Petra's arm is within reach, with no explanation or warning, that syringe is bound for her, containing who-knows-what.

"Medicine Pocket."
"Huh? Oh, yo, whasha pa'ed me foh?"
"I- ew, gross, get that out of your mouth before responding. Please."
"Eh? Oh-" Pager removed from teeth, followed by what's either a yawn, or a jaw-stretch. "Sooooo, you've brought another batch of investors by? Lilian, hey, you got any of 'em ready to fork over funding for the Biology Department yet? Because, hey, everyone, have we got the research you want to throw money at! This one's been a hit, I've got some guys working on a new serum to really change up how dentine enamel grows, and even get it where-"
"I paged you, because this tour group wanted to speak with you, of all people. Before you ask, I've forgotten why."
"Oh, yeah, sure. Didja have to use the emergency signal, though? It's so, so... loud."
"Oh. It must have been a mis-dial. I certainly hope it didn't catch you in a nap."

    Medicine Pocket rolls their eyes, and yawns, not even trying to bother to cover the expression, instead giving a floppy wave with the now-empty autoinjector held in hand. "Yo."
Regulus ''Bout as subtle as skeletons fuckin' on a tin roof?''

Regulus is perplexed. "That's a terrible place to fuck."

''Well damn, what were the odds.''

Regulus is starting to feel like maybe she should have tried more on her disguise. Not because she isn't tricking people, but because somehow her goofy disguise has actually worked. If she had put even slight effort into this bit, she might have had her way across the whole of Laplace the way this is going.

''Do be careful, Ms. Taylor.''

"I'm...okay..."

''That's a painfully vague explanation''

"Them being expendable isn't really relevant and I think he understands they're manufactured." Regulus says. "Don't worry, Calvin. The disks don't spontaneously appear out of nowhere."

''The Laplace Rehabilitation endorses the maintenance of healthy exercise habits, stairs it is.''

"There's no way you're gonna enjoy that." She tells Mesmer, pretty confident that despite her lifestyle she's definitely way more active. And also sleeps normal most of the time.

But she leans against the wall rather than rush up the stairs, breathing heavily for a moment until...

"...They probably expect me to die on those stairs right, APPLe?" She murmurs. "That's...another opportunity to run off...."

Regulus could eat exclusively slop and never get out of a chair and she'd still have the energy for mischief and getting into trouble.

So this means that she sneaks off again to do more spying and sneaking. It also means that she's even more out of breath when she makes it back to the group. This time, she comes back having dragged up a rolling cart the stairs before sitting down on top of it and occassionally using a leg to push herself along.

I'm a genius, Regulus's expression says.

''Yo.''

Regulus waves back. "Yo."
Aika Rosewater The atrium.

    The sight of such a massive research center, let alone one seemingly capable of both "magic" and technology alike, obviously has Aika all ears (and eyes) as she follows along the tour. Every little sound, and every little sight, has her constantly turning her whole body around to look-- she might look overstimulated, but she's all smiles, so if she is, she mustn't mind. The skittering little robots even make her lift a leg up once or twice to twist out of their path, and she bravely resists the urge to pin one down. For now.

    "Is that really a thing? That round architecture and paths promote workflow? It's a sight to behold for sure but..." Maybe it's a superstition thing? Words have power kind of situation? Or maybe it really does promote workflow! What does she know? Not science, that's for sure.

A density of the top minds of the worlds...

    "How do you pick them anyway? I understand the Storm is a global catastrophe every single time, so it's got to be..." She chews on her words a bit. Unpleasant? Burdensome? Complicated? "Well... you know. How do you figure... which top minds make it and which don't?" There's really no delicate way to ask that is there? Obviously they can't fit millions, let alone billions, in here, so there's tough calls to make.

"You sound out of breath, and it's exceptionally distracting."
"Hahh...hahh...well you know... we work long hours..."

    Aika's nose wiggles, sometime around the time the many-named pirate catches up to the tour. With the same pep and energy, she offers without skipping a beat: "Need a pick-me-up? Little boost of energy for the tour?"

"Where one does not do so by intent, one performs such communication by accident."

    "Oh yeah?"
    Aika's eyes follow Tamamo's, towards Mesmer, but she draws no particular conclusion from it, so deprived of exposure to Mesmer and her enriching personality that she just sees her as the tour guide right now.

"By being a completely sapient being *disguising* yourself as an animal..."

    "Disguising?" Aika, taken aback, stares at Petra a bit incredulously. "I suppose I wasn't born this way, but calling it a disguise feels..." She raises, wiggling it a bit dismissively. "Hmmm, no, don't like that. That's wrong. There's some things that feel right that didn't before, little impulses like that. I wouldn't call it a loss of control, but it's not a clean continuation either." She gives a half shrug. "Either way-- not a disguise. Sometimes I feel like this is the disguise."

    She stretches an arm out, to look at her gloved hand.

    "Food for thought, though. You must contemplate this kind of stuff a lot. I just go with the flow. It's just that way."

"you're welcome to look in windows,"

    And this she does, curious as she is, until they reach their destination and Medicine Pocket proceeds to perform Science right then and there.

    "Well nice to meet you, Medicine Pocket. What's with the..." Her idle gesture indicates the syringe, obviously.
Petra Soroka "The Laplace Rehabilitation Center endorses the maintenance of healthy exercise habits, stairs it is."

    This is the first time Mesmer and Petra have ever been on the same page about anything. Petra snickers to herself quietly, before traipsing up the flights of stairs without a care in the world. The number of people *running* up and down the stairs is actually very endearing to her, because they're clearly not 'hurried' in the same way that a basic frazzled company worker would be. Every single one of them has something they're super psyched or anxious or frustrated about, and the environment bubbles with so much energy that they're not willing to wait for an elevator to get to where they're going for it.

"Heyyyy, can you gimme your arm for a second?"

    And then, a creature. Petra has no idea who Medicine Pocket is, but before Mesmer even introduces them, she's oddly compelled to hold out her arm at their request anyways. She placidly ambles over, and then before she knows it, there's a sharp pinch and a needle going into her arm.

    "Ack-- huh?! What?? What was that! Who are you!" She yelps and her arm blinks away, un-stuck with a teeny spot of blood beading up. "Why!!!!!"

"This one's been a hit, I've got some guys working on a new serum to really change up how dentine enamel grows, and even get it where-"

    "Huh?? What about enamel? How do you mean *change up*?! Did you put that in me??" Petra looks over her shoulder at Lilian with wide eyes, as the only person who can make this make sense.
Petra Soroka "Hmmm, no, don't like that. That's wrong. There's some things that feel right that didn't before, little impulses like that."

    Petra holds out her hands with her fingers tensed like she's restraining herself from gripping Aika's head and shaking it around violently. "God! Had a whole fucking speech prepared about your *body feeling right*, huh??? Are you listening to yourself?"

    Slicing down both hands in simultaneous karate chops to emphasize every word she says, "People! Can't! Tell! You're! A! Person! That's why they're touching you like that! You're the only one wielding an informational imbalance that allows you to intrude on people's expressions of intimacy without their knowledge! I don't care about your personal feelings about your *body*!"
Lilian Rook     'It's Regulus. No one else could make one word sound that jobless. Why are you here?'

    "God only knows." says Lilian, who technically has a perfectly legitimate reason to be here and does genuinely like Laplace a lot, but could be so easily called out for only being here to harass Mesmer. Her uniform might just be to harass Mesmer, actually.

    'Aika. I know, like, a million Roses.'

    "Mm." 'Rose' is in Cecilia's name. So.

    Well, maybe she shouldn't say anything while she is currently smiling at Petra scampering all over the place exactly like fondly watching an excitable and beloved dog.

    'I am certain they did their best.'

    Tonally indulging in leaned-closed warm whisper-babble that's maybe three or four degrees short of 'pillow talk', Lilian nods her head and murmurs back "Mhm, but you know how it is, right? Humans and arcanists having to compromise on what constitutes a 'scientific' approach to it means that it'll inevitably fall short if you only look at it like that. I think it's elegant how they balance so many messy and unreasonable priorities; it's indicative of a generous and open mind to give so much credence to certain theories and preferences." She means the non-feng-shui-believing ones.

    'I will breathe ''so much''.'

    Lilian's head turns towards Regulus for just a second, and just as irritable-distracted sounding as if she'd been dragged out of bed by heavy knocking on the door, she says, "You're putting a lot of words in my mouth." before turning right back to Tamamo; and now Calvin, apparently. "He's much more sensible than he looks. As he's already evidenced, frankly." She makes eye contact just to make it clear that she's talking about him choosing not to barge into the insane stupid power games happening right now. This makes him a Respectable Man you see.

    'Oh? Is the research that...?'

    Lilian smiles so sweetly.

    'Gross? It's utilitarian though! Like-- wearing your heart on your sleeve. Being transparent. Y'gotta like, communicate the facts with people. Be upfront!'

    "Really? That's fascinating, because I've never been upfront in my life." Lilian starts quietly snickering at her own shitty peanut gallery joke. This is the mental stance that is capable of ignoring Mesmer.

    
    'It has seemed to me as if 'arcane' is used in a rather more strict manner than 'magic' is commonly used, elsewhere, even if the terms are synonyms.'
    'There's a number of theories. You're welcome to subscribe to a different one, disagreement based on a lack of tested, objective fact, is enshrined as unenforceable to prevent.'

    "If you're speaking to someone who knows anything, you'll quickly understand that 'arcane' means 'from an arcanist or arcane ability', whereas 'magic' could mean all sorts of things." Lilian just talks right over Mesmer, even while implying to Tamamo that she's wrong about it because she's a mere tour guide. "Even though the Storm superficially appears 'magical', or even like an act of god, it clearly has nothing to do with arcanists or arcanum, so it isn't an arcane disaster."

    'Nope! No. You can't be doing that. You can't just be turning into your cat form and laying around in public for people to touch you. You can't.'

    Lilian opens her mouth and takes a deep, world-weary breath, revving up gutting sarcasm to cut Petra down to size about this. She doesn't get a single word out before suddenly understanding that Petra actually isn't being a weird greasonous hypocrite, and might actually have a point.
Tamamo     Tamamo, as a non-transforming, non-pet, divine maybe-animal, listens to Petra go at Aika about intrusions on spaces with a kind of distant fascination.

    'The Laplace Rehabilitation Center endorses the maintenance of healthy exercise habits, stairs it is.'

    However much suspicion she feels toward Petra's stated care for Regulus -- whose real name may or may not be but probably isn't Taylor -- Tamamo has no particular reason to stop either Petra or Mesmer from creating trouble that will mostly hit Mesmer and Regulus. Stairs it is, then. Tamamo's not too fast on them, but her breathing never changes, from the first step to the last.

    'Heyyyy, can you gimme your arm for a second?'

    No one could possibly--

    Petra placidly ambles over.

    "Hm."

    'I paged you, because this tour group wanted to speak with you, of all people. Before you ask, I've forgotten why.'

    "Why, yes, hello! I am Tamamo-no-mae, as it happens, and Lilian was just speaking to me of your research, if not in any detail. It is a pleasure to meet you--" she doesn't quite say 'miss,' but only because she's trying to instantly work out whether Mesmer Junior's non-use of a title is because of local custom or because she's Mesmer Junior. Aren't researchers in this era commonly doctors? Should it be Dr. Pocket? But she's not Dr. Mesmer, and certainly not Dr. Junior...

    Oh, well, she can just ask. "Pardon me, but is it customary to use full names in place of titles, among your peers?" To Tamamo's ears, it sounds past 'formal' and into 'distant,' but that's just how it relates to her.
Lilian Rook     Oh god she does have a point. Lilian looks vaguely queasy at her, and says, "Thank you, Petra. I hadn't even once in my entire life thought about that, but now I suppose I'm cognitively prepared if it ever comes up."

    'I'll look forwards to it, if I live that long.'

    "Smoking like a chimney? Thirty nine at the oldest." Lilian whispers impolitely loud to Tamamo. "Listen to her panting. Good lord." There's no way Lilian's hearing is that good, but Tamamo's probably is.

    'Laplace Scientific Computing Center, per prior-signed waivers, is not responsible for the infection or vectoring of any pathogens, nor any contaminant exposure.'

    Hand jabbering motions. How mature. The fact that she ignores the sign demo doesn't technically mean much since she's seen them a hundred times by now anyways. She has them posted in her own area.

    'Huh? Oh, yo, whasha pa'ed me foh?'

    "Medicine Pocket! Just the person I was looking forward to seeing!" Lilian says, throwing up an arm to wave. "I was telling my fiancée about you and your research just a minute ago!" A greeting wave turns into a wave-off, of 'pish-posh' genus. "They've already reeled in; they just think they're taking time to make a decision because it makes them feel like independent bigshots." she friendly-scoffs. "Dentine? Tell me a little more and I might invest, haha~" Maybe she shouldn't say that with her walking dental record currently getting a shot.
Lilian Rook     'That's a terrible place to fuck.'

    "Oh my god." Lilian groans. Her exasperation boils up just to the level of saying "As if any of you would know the first thing."

    'Don't worry, Calvin. The disks don't spontaneously appear out of nowhere.'

    Aw fuck. That was funny. Now Lilian is snickering again. Britishly.

    'How do you pick them anyway? I understand the Storm is a global catastrophe every single time, so it's got to be...'

    Lilian kinda wants to know too, but she's not going to say it. "Self-evident qualities of genius, mainly." Lilian says, very smugly, puffing out her chest and intentionally jingling in her ID keycard.

    'Huh?? What about enamel? How do you mean *change up*?! Did you put that in me??'

    "Oh don't be a baby." Lilian says to Petra when she looks to her instead. "It's probably just another vaccine."

    Regulus returning again, even more out of breath, makes Lilian narrow her eyes all of a sudden. She puts her hand on Tamamo's arm, says "I'll be right back. I just realized I should check that storage locker now before I forget." She points at Petra, snaps her fingers in Tamamo's direction, and says "Stay." Protect my wife from the Mesmer, o hound of Senén.
Tamamo     ' I think it's elegant how they balance so many messy and unreasonable priorities...'

    Leaning in close with Lilian, for the obvious reason of whispering about everything they're seeing, Tamamo gives a hmm and a thoughtful nod, at least partly approving. "There must be such a variety, even if all of their eras of origin are limited to the same century."

    'He's much more sensible than he looks.'

    With a smile, "How unfortunately rare."

    '...you'll quickly understand that 'arcane' means 'from an arcanist or arcane ability'...'

    "From a person, then, or... is that not circular? What is an 'arcane ability,' if not from an arcanist? Ah, but what of those cases such as... Mr. Apple? I have forgotten the term used for the awakened, if there was one mentioned to me, but it is distinct from 'arcanist,' yes?"

    'Listen to her panting. Good lord.'

    Quietly, "It can hardly be avoided." Her ears do pick up a lot. They can even pick up absences, like the hypothetical absence of a tourist who's been panting hard while getting up the stairs.

    'I'll be right back.'

    "I shall await." Tamamo gives Lilian's hand a squeeze before letting go.
Petra Soroka "I hadn't even once in my entire life thought about that, but now I suppose I'm cognitively prepared if it ever comes up."

    "Right. Right! And it's so easy to solve, too! Not by having something ambiguous that gets put on actual animals, but by having... like, a cat shirt that says 'Don't cuddle me, I'm sapient' on the back. It's obviously an established concept on your world."

    Petra snickers, and them mumbles to herself, "Fuck that'd be *such* a funny shirt, though."

"They've already reeled in; they just think they're taking time to make a decision because it makes them feel like independent bigshots."

    After being jabbed, Petra just holds her soggy confused expression at Lilian for a while, silently patient for the conversation about complicated topics about 'investment' to be finished. She holds her shoulder like she's trying to pinch her blood vessels shut so the 'serum' doesn't get into the rest of her body.

"It's probably just another vaccine."

    "Oh. Okay." And just like that, Petra releases her arm, pefectly fine with whatever was put into her body. She does shake a droplet of Silver off of her fingertip though, so that it falls onto her shoulder and flattens into a gleaming metal seal over the puncture wound like a bandage.

"Stay."

    "Yes ma'am. Got it." Dogs do have it easy in some ways. Petra wouldn't normally think this so directly, but it's such a different vibe to salute when dogs can just sit upright and perk their ears and everyone understands that as 'dutifully listening'. Petra can't just salute at everything. She sticks by Tamamo as directed, anyway.
Lilian Rook     'There must be such a variety, even if all of their eras of origin are limited to the same century.'

    "Oh goodness, where to even begin?" Lilian says. "Perhaps I shoud characterize it as 'charming chaos'?"

    'From a person, then, or... is that not circular?'

    "Mm, not quite? To the best of my understanding, if I walk out into the middle of the woods and find a road to Tír na nÓg, that's not 'an arcane phenomenon', that's just a road that goes somewhere magical. If I want to claim that God blessed me with a miracle, or the Devil cursed me, that's not 'arcane' either, because those are cosmic forces and not Arcanists, but its' . . ." Lilian frowns momentarily, just before excusing herself. "I don't know why they call Awakened 'Arcanists' when they already have the distinct term. It's struck me as intellectually lazy before. Perhaps there's a good reason?"

    'Fuck that'd be *such* a funny shirt, though.'

    "You have an addiction." Lilian says, fond-exasperated. "I'll be certain to ask for Miss Ten-Tails' opinion when I see her again." betrays her genuine, if unwilling, curiosity.
Calvin Nash Don't worry, Calvin. The disks don't spontaneously appear out of nowhere.

    "You was dropped on your head as a baby, wasn't you?"

That's freak shit. Don't do that.

    The argument is one that Calvin finds well constructed and convincing. This does not endear Petra to him in this moment, because his perception of her place in the display of authority expressed by Lilian does not allow him to verbally agree with her unscathed. In short, he is highly annoyed that he agrees with the woman in the service animal vest.

    He searches through his lived experiences, his disposition, his image of himself, one footstep at a time, for something that might be a rebuttal. His brow furrows. His stride becomes more purposeful, like he's trying to powerwalk ahead of the conversation and leave it behind him, without thinking about that essentially meaning he'd be stuck waiting for Mesmer, whose sensibilities annoy him for much different reasons. In that time, he formulates one potential counterargument.

    What if animal people are more common on her world?

That's it? That's all I got? Come on. Goddammit.

    Calvin's thumb and forefinger dig into the sides of his screwed-shut eyes as if he suddenly had a powerful migraine, but his solemn march continues. He's actually ahead of Mesmer at this point and losing her with each step.

    What if the chance of an animal being a person in disguise is something understood when someone reaches out to pet an animal? Is that so uncommon? There are lots of stories about it throughout human history. Often they're stories about how someone's kindness to something seen as defenseless is proof that they're truly kind, and worthy of kindness in return.

Hell no.

    It's at this point that Calvin notices that he is a good several feet in front of Mesmer, at which time he stops, wheels around, realizes all at once that she didn't do anything, Aika didn't, and that he doesn't want to hear whatever Petra will say in response. His eyes stare out, past everyone, at a point as far into the distance as he can muster, his jaw clenched.

    He crosses his arms, even more annoyed now that Mesmer, of all people, is his lifeline out of hearing or thinking about this conversation.

I'll... forward you, when I get around to it, a list of researchers that voice interest in the topic.

    "Regulus'll wanna come too. Figure you won't mind that none," he says laboriously, talking about Regulus like she isn't here and annoyed further that this could be perceived as an endorsement of her disguise.

    If he doesn't do something with that irritation it's going to go somewhere counterproductive. So, as he resumes a normal, non-powerwalk pace, he watches the passing Laplace employees like a hawk--the first one that stumbles or threatens to drop something gets a stern point-and-frown from him. And failing that, he will just arbitrarily pick one to point and frown authoritatively at.

Heyyyy, can you gimme your arm for a second?

    That's it. That's the real chance he was looking for. Calvin looks over his shoulder at Petra and silently mouths stern pre-emptive reprimands with characteristically unearned paternalism. 'Don't you *make* it weird.'
Calvin Nash     Satisfied, he returns his attention to Medicine Pocket.

Yo.

    "Ma'am." Calvin bends the brim of his hat. "Marshal Calvin Nash, Southeast Assembly Demon Marshals. Medicine's one of them things that you don't stop needin', even if this person or that person can get by without it for however long. Even if most people're healthy, you don't wanna be without it for the ones that ain't, or for when someone *stops* bein' healthy. And it's sped up or bogged down by what you got, as far as manufacturin', know-how, and materials. The last two, we got in my neck of the woods, and we get more of it, little by little. The bottleneck for us is that first one. But we might can get by, with enough of the other two."

    "I understand y'all ain't in the best circumstances, what with this Storm shit," he says, and it's actually very sincerely stated. "Sorry to hear it. It's hell to inherit somethin' like that. We ain't quite as constrained, that way. And the Commonwealth's about givin' help where you can. You wanna exchange notes sometime, I know who to put you in contact with."
Aika Rosewater "a cat shirt"

    "Are you?" Aika blinks, without hostility. "Don't call it a disguise. Anyway." Her hands sink in her pants' pockets, back arching and head upward. "I do what feels right. And sometimes what feels right just kind of does itself. It's not that complicated? And it's not that deep. If you like to think about it, then you do that. I don't." The exact thought that crosses her mind makes her pause, before shaking her head and grinning wide.

"a cat shirt"

    "Those are *awful* to put on and even worse to take off, nevermind how they feel, but now you have me thinking about getting a little suit."

Calvin's solemn march.

    Sometimes silence is way easier to notice than noise.
    "Cat's got your tongue?" Aika directs at Calvin, with the obvious expression of someone who knows exactly what she just said and knows it wasn't funny but she just had to take the shot.

    "Sorry if it's rude to ask, but is a Demon Marshal someone who marshals the demons, or are you a demon who's a marshal? Or neither?"

"Why, yes, hello! I am Tamamo-no-mae, as it happens,"
"I was telling my fiancée about you..."

    Aika's ears perk up, towards Lilian-- her head follows moments later, eyes travelling from her to Tamamo as she puts two and two together. "Oh! You'd mentioned her before, right, and--" Aika's hands come out of her pockets, clasping enthusiastically and eyes focusing on the fox. "It was brief, but I'd heard good things about you. I can see why she said 'you should see her'."

    With a step back, she proceeds to dust herself despite having nothing to dust off. "Not my best foot forward, I admit. Aha-- Aika, nice to meet you."

"Pardon me, but is it customary to use full names in place of titles, among your peers?"

    It's plainly obvious Aika is listening for that answer intently too, because it crossed her mind to ask if that was a name or a title or both.
Lilian Rook     'Oh! You'd mentioned her before, right, and--'

    "Of course I have. Just look at her." Lilian sniffs, proudly.

    'Sorry if it's rude to ask, but is a Demon Marshal someone who marshals the demons, or are you a demon who's a marshal?'

    §He marshals demons. It's like how I command dames.§

    "Don't say that . . ." Lilian mutters out loud to herself, stalking off towards the stairs again. "Psh. I'm the only demon here anyways." She could maybe be quieter about her internal monologue.
Foundation Scions 'Regulus'll wanna come too. Figure you won't mind that none,'

    "I do, actually. She isn't considered to be in good-graces with the organization, for purely rational reasons such as disavowing felon criminals. The St. Pavlov Foundation cares more, certainly, but you should know that it's a dangerous arcanist you're asking to work with. I can't recommend that."

'How do you figure... which top minds make it and which don't?'

    "It isn't up to me." Mesmer glares, this one more tired, with a lip-twitch. "It isn't up to you, either, so I can hardly see why you're curious. The decision is made, and that's that."

    More under-breath, "It's that question, every time. What's it even matter to you? Gross."

'Smoking like a chimney? Thirty nine at the oldest.'

    Mesmer hears, notices, reacts with a sneer- "Far less volatile than living with the risk of an overdose."

. . .

    Through the labs, there's a remarkable number of visible experiments, most have vials, needles, dishes, and microscopes, some have dissections ongoing of mundane animals and samples of things that can only be supernatural, kept in ether jars or strange terrariums; shelves of things that are dried, powdered, and labelled, from 'dragon bone powder' to 'calcium hypochlorite'. Different hallways lead off to wildlife care areas, veterinary research, pneumatic tubes line corners to send items off to the various other hubs for biology research, on other floors, or out in the annex domes.

'Well nice to meet you, Medicine Pocket. What's with the...'
'Ack-- huh?! What?? What was that!'

    The answer to these is the same, and Medicine Pocket delivers it to Lilian, actually, instead of either of them- "She needed some shots, gotta get 'em on her record, or I'll really be hounded for clearing her. Hah, aheh, hounded, about the service dog..." They wipe off the needle-tip with the back of their glove, and then struggle for just a second to pull off the disposable point. To Petra, finally, "If you're sore from it for longer than, sayyyyy, eight days, call us, that'd probably be a record." HUH?

'Ma'am. Marshal Calvin Nash,'

    "Marshal *Dumbass*," They say, too fast after the introduction, with a requisite eye-roll- and that's it of the spiny response- "Oh, damn, for real, that's some sort of business proposal? Yeah, yeah, I'll..." They snap, and point a finger gun at Calvin, and continue, dry. "Got the goods, but no manufacturing? My man, you're in luck, luck I'd say. You got a radio, I'll give you a call sometime, not like there's enough of any of it, here, but the goods, that's the real pain in the neck, yeah.."
Foundation Scions 'Pardon me, but is it customary to use full names in place of titles, among your peers?'

    "It's customary to sniff each other's butts and then run around." Medicine Pocket's severe allergy to formality acts up, lazy-sounding tone sparing them from sounding like they're snarking instead of quietly laughing about the very idea. "Ohhhh, you know, I thought I recognized you from Lilian's office. Nice, nice. Means you're cool, actually. Love the ears, by the way. So, what's she been saying about my work?"

'Dentine? Tell me a little more and I might invest, haha~'

    "Shit's hard, they're making it harder, sharper, and putting it where they want. 'Topical dentinogenisis serum and fortifier', they're calling it. Someone came by earlier, wanted to license it for body armor, isn't that crazy? You get shot, and bam, your skin's teeth instead! It was just supposed to just be a tooth paste, at the pitch, but there's so much you can do with teeth. Getting a Hydra's oral stem cells for it though, whoof, you would not wanna mess that extraction up. So, you're going to add some funding into the bucket? How much?"

'It's probably just another vaccine.'

    Evasive-sounding, "Sure, yeah, you can call it that."

. . .

    In the continuance of Regulus's secret mission, it's easy to sneak off from Mesmer mid-kerfuffle. The biology laboratories don't have anything close to what Regulus is looking for, but they do sit near an archive-room of Laplace's acquisitions systems. Filing cabinets abound, when slipped into behind an unsuspecting scientist, hard to thumb through and clearly checked regularly, but holding comprehensive listings of purchased materials for projects of the likes of the warp-gate.

    With an idea of the components, and how they were sourced from 1966-era manufacturing sites, discretely, beyond the parts designed and outlined on the operating schematics, that paints a pretty picture for how nearly everything about Laplace's warpgate could be replicated. Barring, actually, redacted information regarding, apparently, a specific crystal-resonance tuning unit, in-house designed, hinted at mostly by a temporary hiring contract to an arcanist clockwork tinkerer, no doubt now reversed by the Storm. Whatever it actually is, however it works, that's a missing gap in the details, but... would Laplace only have the one laying around?

    When Regulus gets back, at least by Mesmer's perspective, she isn't missed at all, even if there are a lot of chances for her various infiltration-methods to get her into (or out of otherwise-gotten-into) iffy situations, with scientists who couldn't see her coming. With a guest pass, hallway guards will scowl at her if they see her, and rush her along back to her group, but today of all days that's the extent they'll do. Phew.

. . .

    The locker Lilian finds contains one flat-folded, nicely-sealed, lightly-worn halloween 'sexy nurse' costume, and the exact cost in multiversal credits of one of her MREs.

. . .
Foundation Scions "I'd appreciate it, Medicine Pocket, if you let me carry on with my tour."
"Huh? Jeez, you're the one who called it an emergency, get off my ass."
"I said that was accidental."
"So? What, you need to get back to anything other than this?"
"Yes, actually, my job."
"Go figure. Fine, jeez."

    They put their hands up, pager stuck... somewhere, in some pocket of their long coat, and they start to squeeze by the group to leave without much further ado. Mesmer coughs, clears her throat, and beckons for the still-lingering guard, who's been entertaining himself by watching MePo's antics-

    "Next stop, actually, we'll quickly pass through Laplace's manufacturing facilities. Most of it is secured, so, stick close. We'll use the elevator this time, it's less exercise to go downwards on stairs than it is upwards." Read: she doesn't wanna do more stairs! "After that, it's the museum. Here along the tour is where I'm to offer each of you vouchers for a half-off cone of ice cream from the museum's ice-cream shop. Please enjoy."

    Orange carnival tickets, for only half off. It's embarrassing that she's had those clipped behind her clipboard, and embarrassing that she's handing them out right now, in the middle of a wetlab biology zone. Repeating, as if not sure of anything anymore, she says, painfully hollow, "Please enjoy."
Calvin Nash Sorry if it's rude to ask, but is a Demon Marshal someone who marshals the demons, or are you a demon who's a marshal? Or neither?

    "We're government employees," Calvin answers exactly as flatly as a government employee would. "That's the 'marshal' part. Means 'officer.' Job involves anything from makin' friends with 'em, makin' contracts wity 'em, payin' 'em off, wardin' 'em off, killin' 'em. Depends on the demon which one we end up doin'."

    "Assembly makes sure we got what we need to do it. Physical fitness, magical trainin', mythology, equipment." He pats the COMP on his wrist at that last word. "Guess we *do* marshal 'em. The ones we make contracts with."

If you like to think about it, then you do that. I don't.

     Calvin sighs. I always figured God was an asshole. This here's proof. "I wish you hadn't said that."

The St. Pavlov Foundation cares more, certainly, but you should know that it's a dangerous arcanist you're asking to work with. I can't recommend that.

    "Aight." This is a heroic effort at neutrality, considering what else is going on around him and his general opinion of Mesmer. "Thanks."

You got a radio, I'll give you a call sometime, not like there's enough of any of it, here, but the goods, that's the real pain in the neck, yeah..

    Calvin isn't sure how to respond to genuine interest after being called a dumbass so close to his breaking point. Is it a trick? Probably not. "It just pisses me off when people die that coulda lived, is all." Sincerity is probably the play here. "If I did somethin' to piss *you* off I'd appreciate you lettin' me know, now or later, so we can get past it."

I'd appreciate it, Medicine Pocket, if you let me carry on with my tour.

    "Anyway." Another sanitizer spritz, and a nod. "I'll be in touch."

Please enjoy.

    "Heard you the first time," Calvin says tersely, ticket in hand. Then he remembers it's for ice cream. Surely Mesmer can't ruin that. "Thank you though."
Lilian Rook     'She needed some shots, gotta get 'em on her record, or I'll really be hounded for clearing her. Hah, aheh, hounded, about the service dog...'

    Lilian intentionally snort-laughs that syllable, because it's just so cheesy. "Never change." she says to Medicine Pocket, which is the highest level technique of 'guys talk' that she's mastered. "Honestly, I should have pushed for it a while ago. I was remiss to simply assume that she was clear of health risks. Girl you are the biohazard risk to Petra! "I appreciate you taking the time."

    'So, you're going to add some funding into the bucket? How much?'

    "Mmm, I think quite highly of the current quality of my teeth, and I wouldn't want to enable 'stolen valour'." Huh??? "But if we're talking about full-blown supermaterials applications, then I'd be a liar to say I'm not curious. I wonder if a million or two might have fallen under the sofa?"

    'Far less volatile than living with the risk of an overdose.'

    Lilian is already off down the stairs.

    That's weird. She didn't say anything that time either. It's like she didn't even notice. Freaky.

    'It's customary to sniff each other's butts and then run around.'

    Lilian would have something to say about that, if she hadn't just scooted.
Regulus ''As if any of you would know the first thing.''

"Well it's not like it was hard to learn." Regulus says. "There were a lot of people willing to help out in the circles I frequented. But I wouldn't say it was serious--"

''I just realized I should check that storage locker now before I forget.''

Regulus stares at Lilian. Does she know??? Or does she think she's, like, helping Mesmer do some weird thing back at her? OR maybe she thinks Regulus is trying to prank her? Regulus has missed like half the context of the cat shirt conversation and she gives Aika a bewildered glance. A little suit??

''Regulus'll wanna come too. Figure you won't mind that none.''

Wait, what is Calvin talking about? She's been slipping in and out of the tour. Is this a trap?? Or is this about the demon summoning thing? Mesmer's answer confirms something the answer before she worries too much, but she is worrying that she might have clued Lilian in with that kind of timing. Fortunately she totally broke the rules by bringing the cart roller up here. Her speed and stamina have increased thanks to this application of TECHNOLOGY to her problem...!! She's invincible, unless she has to go down stairs again in which case she might wipe out from all the bumping, but provided this small detail never comes up everything will be fine.

"She thinks every arcanist is dangerous," She asides to Calvin. "I stole a rock and then they tried to kidnap me so they could send me to their 'disciplinary course' which seems more ominous the more I hear about it." She bobs her head. "The only thing dangerous about me is my sick tunes." She lowers her volume. "They're so sick they're contagious." She just barely avoids telling Calvin 'it's fine I'd just sneak in' as she remembers Vertin's sage advice of not just openly admitting your plans in front of god and lilian. Well, Lilian isn't here right now it's only the bunrei but, still, close enough.

During SECRET MISSION, Regulus can naturally start assuming necessary materials once she starts getting a clearer idea of how things work. Or finding good enough substitutes (that probably won't result in explosions). But that thing about that clockwork tuning unit... Sure, maybe she could try and figure one out on her own but it'd be better if she just stole something, right? Or at least the plans. Doing trials on her own would take forever.

She is starting to think about diminishing returns on her mission here. If Lilian gets back and realizes what she's been up to...that's spooky!! Her main concern right now is that she can make the cart invisible but she can't really make it not make noise as it rolls around.

''We'll quickly pass through Laplace's manufacturing facilities.''

Could it be there? As much Regulus loves ice cream she didn't bring money. Even a half off ice cream is too expensive for her.

She keeps her eyes open for a third opportunity to slip away though this time--yeah she's probably not going to be coming back. And if she can do that before Lilian returns with possible Regulus consequences (or, frankly, even if it's Mesmer consequences) all the better.
Tamamo     'I can see why she said 'you should see her'.'

    "'She'? Ah..."

    'Not my best foot forward, I admit. Aha-- Aika, nice to meet you.'

    Tamamo is not the type to publicly say she's being magnanimously forgiving, only because she very well can express it by tone and bearing. "Aika Rosewater -- oh, yes, you did mention--" 'Ms. Rosewater is my mom.' "It is a pleasure to meet you, as well, Ms. Aika."

    She's still silently chewing on what Petra was saying about petting animals. Breaking that silence, presently, to say, "Is it common for one of the 21st century to go and pet those pets that belong to another?" That seems a bit strange to her.

    'It's customary to sniff each other's butts and then run around.'

    Tamamo can only glance sidelong to Lilian at this, but Lilian already has things to handle. She only briefly considers saying something unfond of dogs.

    'So, what's she been saying about my work?'

    "Only that you are studying something involving hereditary traits and bloodline interactions, and that she expected I would be interested." She is. It's not actually hard to guess why.

    'Go figure. Fine, jeez.'

    "Another time, then."

    Tamamo soon finds herself accepting an ice cream coupon. It would be a confusing experience just for being a partial offer on something she had no intention of acquiring, even before getting to it being inappropriate for the location, even before getting to it being a reluctant offer from Mesmer Junior with a void of enthusiasm.

    The automatic 'thank you' doesn't arrive. In its place, Tamamo stares into Mesmer's eyes a little too long.
Calvin Nash She thinks every arcanist is dangerous.

    "I know." He doesn't, but he can imagine. More pressingly, he hopes saying so will get Regulus to stop talking. It doesn't.

I stole a rock and then they tried to kidnap me so they could send me to their 'disciplinary course' which seems more ominous the more I hear about it.

    "Yep." The word is uttered like someone hanging onto a cliff as their fingers threaten to give out. Short, breathy, exhausted, strained.

The only thing dangerous about me is my sick tunes. They're so sick they're contagious.

    "Just a second," says Calvin.

    He turns away from Regulus and takes several long, lunging steps worthy of a workout, all the way to the elevator. He doesn't turn around to face the door and stays facing the inside wall of the elevator. Calvin grabs whatever is solid enough to serve as a railing and lowers his head. Just a little bit longer. Just a little bit longer and I can go home, take my boots off, and lock my door and shut my damn blinds and have a beer and a bowl.
Petra Soroka "It's not that complicated? And it's not that deep."

    Petra's frown deepens. The Sims negative- moodlets are popping off of her a landslide, confronted with her very philosophical antithesis. All relationships must move a certain distance away from 0 in order for them to cement in her mind, and Aika has just secured her place in Petra's memory. "Well, don't complain about it, then."

    Petra is so so so well-behaved for not starting a fight in the LSCC. She doesn't even have to strain to hold herself back from being more aggressive towards Aika instead of simply dropping the topic, because she's been given a Job and her tasks are more important than snapping at someone she doesn't like right now. She does sniff in annoyance, but shuffles closer to Tamamo as if to take shelter in her authority over her.

"Cat's got your tongue?"

    A second sniff. Petra's nose is scrunched up.

"Hah, aheh, hounded, about the service dog..."}

    This, in comparison, is funny. What Medicine Pocket says next isn't, though. "Wait, eight days? That's way too long. I've *had* shots before. It's supposed to be, like, eight *hours* for a normal shot."

"It's customary to sniff each other's butts and then run around."

    Petra snickers again, holding her fist up to her mouth. "Oh, you've got a *thing*, huh? How come you're talking like that when I'm the one wearing the vest?"

"Sure, yeah, you can call it that."

    Okay, so, they're *probably* just fucking with her. Going from talking about that research to refusing to clarify what's just been injected into Petra's body is clearly just a joke that they saw the opportunity for and took, because Petra is currently registered as a Funny Bitch at the LSCC. But for unknowable reasons, Medicine Pocket still has a notable positive reputation score in her mind, so even though she's huffy, she'll play along with the joke.

    "If my teeth start getting harder and longer, you're gonna know real fuckin' fast. There's *gotta* be some rule against injecting weird substances into someone's service animal. I'd be totally justified."
Aika Rosewater The lab.

    There's a lot to take in, staring through glass and peeking around corners and at shelves and tables and...
    "Hm."

    The one non-word hangs on her lips, at the sight of the dissections. Ears stiffen and her tail sways a bit more, she crosses her arms, and eventually just stops peeking into other rooms. It's normal-- it makes sense, probably? It's necessary, maybe, even. How many Things has she dealt with and brought back to people for exactly that?

    It's still...

"It isn't up to me."

    "Mhm, fair, fair. And right, hardly my call. But if it's always that question," Aika smiles, not shy about her ears picking up mutterings clearly, "Then you might want a canned answer that appeases people." She bites her lip, pauses, thinks about it for a second. That was mean? No, that was definitely mean. "Oh. Sorry. You don't deserve that. Not from me anyway. I'm sure your brass has a thorough paper on how it decides. I'd even accept 'vibe check at the time of'. Better than not having an answer at all."

"Is it common for one of the 21st century to go and pet those pets that belong to another?"

    "Depends on the pet, and how well behaved they are, but some people reach for a barking dog like it's a challenge anyway."

    She considers reaching for Petra.
    She resists the compulsion to antagonize a dog.
    More than she already has.

"Well, don't complain about it, then."

    Partially on account of Petra just kind of making noises but not hard-pushing anymore! But, mostly, it's to avoid being bitten?

"We're government employees,"

    "Gotcha!" Aika regains her pep, absorbing what she can of what all these new faces are about. "I take it demons are especially common where you're from, to need a whole branch of government to deal with? You don't have to give me the full rundown by the by, if you direct me to a pile of reports I'll print them out." She keeps a pile, at this point. She only *sometimes* sleeps on it.

    Then Calvin flees to the elevator.
    Huh. Wonder what that's about.

    Surely it's not out of disdain for sick tunes?

"After that, it's the museum."

    "Oh yeah, makes sense. History's being erased, of course you'd want a place to save it. Was the ice cream shop there before you started taking off-world visitors for tours or is it a special accomodation just for us?"
Petra Soroka "The only thing dangerous about me is my sick tunes."

    It's uncertain whether Petra is trying to antagonize Regulus or Calvin more when she inserts herself into their conversation to add, "You also beat them up and then tied them up and held them hostage and bragged about it on the public radio."

"Is it common for one of the 21st century to go and pet those pets that belong to another?"

    Personally, Petra thinks that Mesmer is much more of a threat to Lilian than to Tamamo, but she knows her duties to watch their interaction when Mesmer hands out the stupid little ice cream tickets. She's learned her lesson about trying to reach for one herself, though, not being a guest. If she's scolded for lunging again then she'll have to turn in her badge and gun.

    "Sort of? But there's lots of wild cats and dogs too, depending on where you are-- or, specifically, feral. Since they're still domesticated, and still act like they're domesticated, even though they're living outdoors. So people kind of just view them as categorically 'pets' belonging to no one."
Tamamo     She does sniff in annoyance, but shuffles closer to Tamamo as if to take shelter in her authority over her.

    Still considering what to do with the coupon she accepted, Tamamo looks at it, then at Petra, then back to the coupon, and finally brings out a smartphone into which she begins drawing characters with one finger. The sentence forms: Can dogs eat ice cream?

    She frowns a little, quietly reading, "Lactose... weight gain... chocolate..."
Foundation Scions 'But if we're talking about full-blown supermaterials applications,'

    "We caaaan be talking about that, yeah! And you know what, for, two... two and a half million in the cushions, that's *gotta* be what we're talking about!"

'Is it common for one of the 21st century to go and pet those pets that belong to another?'

    "Should be, yeah." They haven't seen the 21st century.

'It's supposed to be, like, eight *hours* for a normal shot.'

    "Yeah, so, you know, it'd be a record if it went on that long, or longer." Is it a normal shot???

'Oh, you've got a *thing*, huh? How come you're talking like that when I'm the one wearing the vest?'

    "Ahah, that's funny, yeah..." Not an answer!

'If my teeth start getting harder and longer, you're gonna know real fuckin' fast'

    "Yeah, yeah! If they do, tell me, there's a lot of tests to run! If more start to come in, that's..." Air-through-teeth, raspy-highpitch, "Also, important to hear about!"

'I stole a rock and then they tried to kidnap me so they could send me to their 'disciplinary course' which seems more ominous the more I hear about it.'

    Mesmer pinches the bridge of her nose, trying to control her breathing. "You stole every breath of air you keep filling with that nonsense. You kidnapped them, you're kidnapping us under threat of continuing to speak-" The guard trailing Mesmer perks up, weirded out, before Mesmer just, stops, with a "No, no, it's nothing. Forget it. It's perfectly serviceable for her to be along for any organizational cooperation. What's the worst that could happen?"

'History's being erased, of course you'd want a place to save it.'

    Mesmer exhales. It's a breath of fresh air to deal with someone else being annoying to her than Regulus. "The Laplace Museum pre-dates the Storm, actually."
Foundation Scions . . .

    Elevators ferry the group down, down, and down, not through the atrium's arterial route but through a side, freight-elevator route near the perimeter of the building. Mesmer has to press a key-code combination for the elevator, one to summon it, a different one to get it moving down to the foundry. It's fast, without glass walls, and lets the Elites off on a wide, circular wirework catwalk hub, like the dead-center of a spiderweb. Immediately, Mesmer rushes to hold onto a hand-rail, for no explained reason, and carries on her tour as-usual.

    The majority of what can be seen of the foundry is from catwalks, over clusters of domed and stilt-raised stations and facilities, half-warehouse, half-factory, and half jettson's village, in the recessed ground-floor complex. High ceilings above, and low ceilings on another part, indicate where the rest of the towering structure sits above the section vs. where there was room to expand and build tall.

    Echoey on the suspended platforms, Mesmer doesn't let go of a handrail to walk, or to talk- "Laplace Scientific Computing Center has, since this campus's establishment, maintained some amount of in-house manufacturing, for parts, tools, and prototyping. However, as you can see, there's a far greater need for self-reliance in production chains nowadays; the facility has been greatly expanded. No photographs, but you're free to look, at least."

    Subsections have been sequestered off by dividing-walls and curtains, indicating where there are likely to be secret works going on, but rounded paths formed on floors lead to ramps and conveyors, with a continuous movement of parts, materials, and paper notices from place to place. Pneumatic tubes stretch through various supply points, and more robots than even the atrium mix in with hardhatted workers, all still sterile and scientific in design-tone, like a fulfilment center run by NASA.

. . .

    Of course, Regulus has to sneak down a ladder to get out and about into any of this, and weave her way to, probably, the most secured-looking storage area she can find. At least it's convinient that Laplace workers tend to, with the exception of Mesmer Jr., wear keycards suspended on lanyards, like they're fresh for the stealing.

    On the ground, there's networks of signs and directions, helpful to Regulus, indicating where the varieties of materials and parts might be stored; raw metals, standardized tubing, chemistry glass, circuitwork, proprietary replacements, engine oil- no, it's gotta be 'proprietary replacements'. Nothing within that hub, in its own dome, with its own inventory-checklist and security camera and keypad-door, is labelled with its purposes, just in crates and bins with numbers attached to be requested by someone with the knowledge of the master-inventory system's classifications; but Regulus doesn't need to know anything about that, she's got a list ! Part bunch-of-numbers, bin seven, with a... physical key to its locker, but a flimsy one. Yeesh. That's the part, at least, be it able to be stolen and smuggled-out, or just... looked at for later guestimation!

Either way, she'll have to climb back up the ladders to the catwalk to catch up, of course, or some other, longer way, if she's rendezvousing later or simply trying to escape. Good luck, Regulus!

. . .

    "Oh, here we are-" What a thing to say when she's very nearly walked her back into a doorway, heading towards the older-section of the foundry (and thus back towards the tower itself). "We're nearing the end of our time together here. If you've more questions, now's a good time, as we head to the Laplace Scientific Computing Center's very-own company museum, full of wonderous relics of the, modern, past, and future age. And ice-cream."

    The door hisses open, without a keypad from the inside, at least, and a short hallway connects with the bright light of the atrium lobby, ground-floor, all the rest of the tower above them.
Foundation Scions     The lobby, bright and open, is comparatively quiet to everywhere else in Laplace's campus. Directory desks, security checkpoints, and a hallway towards the employee cafeteria, but, additionally, a glass-wall-lined section under an overhanging balcony, with signs indicating it as the Laplace Museum (and gift shop). Inside it, while work isn't exactly finished, it's clear that it's in the process of having many displays un-censored from how they were, when having to host outside visitors from an era where the forefront of science was the space race, and not the comparative wonders of '99.

    It's being un-censored, of course, because as placards state, Laplace Scientific Computing Center simply did not exist in 1928, and thus there is no likelyhood of visitors from the outside era seeing the inside of Laplace's campus. An overview exhibit of its history does exist, however, from its inception in the middle of the century, to its global expansion, to, actually, a few exhibits about its efforts since the onset of the Storm, such as globe-spanning sensor networks first intended to predict the catastrophe, and... less-than fully successful at it, with great expenditure of resources. Likewise are various monument plaques to former employees taken by the storm, but scattered around are inventions and innovations, celebrated and enshrined; rocket parts from an Apollo mission, a glass-shrouded teleportation floppy-disk prototype, an... Artificial Somnambulism helmet mock-up, regrettably. Posters celebrate the remnants of modern technology archived and maintained here, alongside explanations of makeshift solutions to the problems faced by the apocalyptic conditions.

    It's quaint, and cute, that the organization has gone through the effort to celebrate itself in this way, when it's somewhat-less of a sales pitch to the worth of the conglomerate than it would have been in an unbroken timeline.

    Mesmer Jr., tour guide, with a quip or a speech about every other place they've walked through today, has no remark for the group. She hovers within the museum, standing by a doorway to an old-fashioned styled ice-cream store, with a curved wooden bar and chrome-sided bar seats. A sign on the door reads 'closed', having ended its opening times an hour prior, something she sighs about, and goes to scrounge for whether there are gloves and hair-nets she can find. The tour demands there be the chance for half-off ice cream, if anyone's paying for it, it's her who'll serve it, and she will take back the orange carnival tickets to do so.
Lilian Rook     . . . . . . . .

    Downstairs, Lilian stands before storage bank 4, locker unit 23. She holds the door in one hand, left where it was pulled unassumingly to the side in her last moment of blissful innocence. The corresponding key is clutched in the other, never to open it again after having been halfway wrapped around her thumb. She hasn't moved to touch anything inside since she opened it a full thirty seconds ago. Her wide-eyed stare rests numbly on the re-sealed package, preemptively aghast while her jammed-up thoughts struggle to catch up.

    Her fingers twitch, as if to uncurl, and freeze again after only the slightest sign of life; as if her nervous system suddenly thought better of that signal. She remembers to breathe, and then makes a toneless wheezing sound, strained into incoherent plaintive-confusion. Her eighth attempt to mentally work through the sequence of events that started at the parking lot and ended with being sued for eight dollars falls apart halfway down the track, and every scrap of comprehension loaded into it clatters back out, only joining the steadily growing heap.

    No matter how she looks at it, there are only two possibilities; or rather, only two are catalyzed from those volatile reagants of stunned reactionary thought: Either Mesmer is 'settling her debts' with provocative clothes that she'd already worn on purpose, or something about the artificially constructed 'addiction rehabilitation therapy' Mesmer had foisted on her had rattled Mesmer badly enough to abandon her current level of parasocial psychosis out of secret shame.

    Either or; both of them beg the same question. One that Lilian finally outlines in her mind as she takes a deep breath, slams the door shut, and screams at the top of her lungs, "WHAT THE FUCK IS--"

    . . . . . . . .

    "--WRONG WITH YOU?!"

    They're words that nobody likes to hear from Lilian, blipping into the door behind them to cut them off, much less 'Lilian who is rapidly and aggressively approaching and hurling a crumpled up metal key against the ground like trash'. The mood starts at DEFCON 3, and spikes to DEFCON 1 as Lilian snatches up a souvenir drink bottle and shatters it against the railing, speeding up to a near-lunge--

    Grabs Regulus by the back of the back of the collar, in the midst of creeping off again, and promptly shoves the jagged glass against her throat to 'discourage' trying to escape.

    The part where she gets her in an arm lock and twists her to face the security guard (and Mesmer) is practically a formality. The part she says "Do you fancy yourself clever? Do you seriously think that no one knows?!" comes across as so deeply unbalanced that it's almost like she's not even talking to Regulus at all. The glass slowly squeals and cracks in her grip, multiple points there to draw blood. "You. Do I have to do everything?" Lilian snaps, at the hapless guard. "Take this one in would you? Or so help me god--" No. She's been staring at Mesmer the entire time, as the glass grinds apart in her grasp.
Regulus ''You also beat them up and then tied them up and held them hostage--''

"Woah woah woah I didn't hold them hostage!" Regulus says.

''You stole every breath of air you keep filling--''

Oh no! Mesmer talked so much shit at Regulus she successfully destroyed her in a single blow! Regulus has had this conversation enough time that she bounces before it's even over.

Unfortunately this does mean abandoning the rollercart where it is since Regulus can't exactly stealthily move it across a catwalk. Also it's not really helpful across a catwalk. Regulus didn't think there would be a catwalk. She's learning a lot, at least, about what it's like to move around Laplace at least. It served it's purpose, at least, in giving Regulus some time to catch her breath at least.

The hardest part is moving down the ladder without making any noise. Turning invisible while moving down a ladder is actually a little rough because she can't see where she's putting her feet. But she knows what she's after.

She does consider that she could just like--look at it and do some tests but ... she's actually feeling kinda pissy!!! She's been teased and mocked all day! So she's just going to take it, she decides. Besides, the faster she gets that warpgate up and running, the easier everything will be for Vertin. She climbs back up, handing it off to APPLe and turning him invisible.

"Make sure it gets to the suitcase." She murmurs to him. The APPLe flees under the cover of REgulus's arcanum as she aims to escape her own path, only...

She freezes when she runs into Lilian storming back towards the group. She seems focused--maybe she didn't see her?

''Grabs Regulus by the back of her collar...''

SHE SAW HER SHE SAW HER.

"Okay okay you--" She feels something against her throat. "W--woah woah woah what are you doing???"

She attempts to crane her neck away from the glass but it soon becomes apparent, even to Regulus, that...

The glass draws blood...

That this isn't even really about her sneaking around. In the moment between getting handed off to the guard...

She sends a beam of light into the glass which refracts off of it, sending out a brilliant flash of white as Regulus vanishes once more, though she doesn't particularly obscure her running.

"What the fuck is wrong with YOU!?" She shouts back, grabbing at her throat. "You're off your rocker! You both are!"

She doesn't stick around after that.