Scene #8567: Cafe De L-Corp

Owner	Pose
Angela	Chewie is upset. Chewie is upset because he wanted to prepare something truly splendid since the idea of 'cooking with Abnormalities' just frankly excites him but Angela insisted on the directions and Chewie is going to do his best. He's gotten around to claiming that the limitations will be the inspiration. Angela really doesn't care about how Chewie feels about it. She's more concerned about fucking up some etiquette and putting off Rita Ma more than anything. She hasn't really run a 'cafe' before or anything like that. Angela will meet Rita at the Warpgate, bowing her head slightly in greeting. "Welcome to L-Corp. I believe this is your first proper visitation. We prepared the meat you requested and have set a relatively--for L-corp--private area for your meal. I gave your instructions to the... to Chewie." She trails off for a moment and adds, "I apologize in advances for any accidental breaches of etiquette. If you have suggestions, we will incpororate them however we can for the future." Rita Ma can probably already smell the faint stench of blood that always seems to be present in the facility.
Rita Ma	Their personal interactions have been sparse. If one formed an opinion of Rita purely from the debacle of a party, from the SONG meeting, and from what she did to the Union Busan, one would have a very misleading picture. She does have a way of seeming crisp and austere under pressure. But there's no pressure here. There's anxiety, but that's not the same. And so the girl who steps through the warpgate is wearing a shaky, tender smile that's likely to dispel Angela's worries on impact. When she bows from the waist, she looks even tinier than she is. For some reason Rita's first breath hitches. She glances around, freezes, and dry-swallows. Her eyes squeeze shut- you'd think she'd been pepper-sprayed- and open timed with a little sigh to clear her mind. "You're being really kind to me, Ms. Angela," she says with awkward gratitude, trying to breeze past it. Her thumb fidgets with her satchel's strap. "Please don't worry about 'etiquette'. It's not like I'm anyone important! I'm the one who should be worrying about that, right? I mean, you're so busy, but you still made time for me. And I don't..." Rita's eyes sweep across the other employees, saccading one-by-one. Angela has all the time in the world to pick apart the subtleties of her expression. Forlorn yearning, quiet worry, wariness. Do all of them know? Or am I imagining it? "... it's not like I belong here, in the first place." She says it like she almost wishes she did. Rita's outfit is different today: daffodil jacket made for slightly cooler weather, sky-blue longer skirt, black shirt underneath. If Angela's very smart, she might intuit why Rita isn't wearing any white.
Angela	Angela is surprised by just how deep Rita bows. Even maybe feels a little awkward about it. "Mm... I suppose that is true. You are not, in the grand scheme of things, important--not in the way the rulers of the Nests would ascribe as such. But you are however someone I do not wish to offend. And you are doing us a favor by coming here for a meal so that you can make a more appropriate use of our Abnormalities than we could if we simply let them loose on your world hoping they'd do more damage to the forces threatening the multiverse than our allies." She makes her way along. "But mostly you seem respectable and polite so I should be so in turn. Please, follow me." Angela will lead Rita to the elevator. Agents mill about, some glance Rita's way. Most seem ... worried. Worried that, you know, such a sweet looking girl is heading deeper into L-Corp. Angela pushes the button for Welfare and looks Rita over again. Angela IS wearing a white labcoat and a suit and skirt with long leggings. "I do not particularly care for the elites of the City--admittedly, neither does the head of L-Corp, but naturally I'm not particularly fond of him either." The doors open into Central. Tiphereth doesn't even say hello to Rita, mumbling to herself and kind of quickly moving on upon seeing Angela--and her. She is still reeling from yesterday. Instead they head into the cavernous blue Welfare Department. A sunroof shines in light but clearly doesn't reach above ground and in the center a table has been set up. A boxbot with the tag Chesed snaps a lazy salute with an actuator arm at Angela. "Well hey there." Chesed says. "Thank you for coming to The Cafe De L-Corp..." "Don't fool around, Chesed. Is Chewie ready?" "Just about." Chesed says. "But I thought I'd ask--do you take coffee, Miss Rita? I can prepare a beverage as well."
Rita Ma	"So you're thanking me for helping you to help my own world," Rita says, with a forlorn little smile. "You're a really kind person, aren't you, Ms. Angela? That doesn't help me feel any less indebted." But being called 'respectable and polite' brightens her up. On the walk to the elevator, she keeps shrinking closer and closer to Angela, as if to use her for cover. Rita can't help but flinch from the agents' worried glances. She's too braced to read something else into them. In the elevator she relaxes a little. Finally, cover. Her knuckles, gripping the satchel-strap, un-whiten. But her back stays straight, her eyes fixed ahead. Jelly removed from a mold holds its shape for an hour or two. "Thank you for trusting me, Ms. Angela," she says. Her voice is quiet, but her smile is shy now, sincere. "I don't really know why. But I'll do my best to deserve it. I promise." She adjusts her posture, stiffens her gaze, and armors up her smile before stepping out into Central and Welfare. Rita bubbles over into a tiny laugh when the cube-bot salutes, reciprocates the little wave, and then glances between him and Angela with quiet bafflement- does she hate bad jokes that much?- before remembering she's being addressed. "Oh! Um, thank you so much, Mister... Chesed? But I don't think I can drink it. A glass of water would be fine," she says hastily. "Really, you don't need to go through so much fuss for me. Um, not that I'm not grateful, but..." Rita trails off awkwardly, but eventually seats herself at the table. After Chesed's left, she thinks to ask: "Are you going to be watching, Ms. Angela?" It's hard to read a preference from her tone, but she does sound... worried?
Angela	''You're a really kind person, aren't you, Ms. Angela'' Angela's shoulders push up slightly as she regards Rita. She really walked into that one but she still feels the urge to argue. In truth, she probably wouldn't mind if the horrors of Rita's world burst into the City and rampaged a little so they could feel what it's like--but she can't really bring herself to do that. "I've been told that lately. But I still participate in this process here, Miss Rita, and intentionally end the lives of good people for the purposes of an ultimately selfish goal." She makes sure to get that out before the elevator doors open. ''I don't really know why.'' "The Commander seems to and I trust her judgement, though there's other reasons I'd rather not share with the Facility. Perhaps in a private conversation." Chesed is a boxbot and is already holding a cup of coffee--though that seems to be for himself. He pours some down his chute. "Ah, no, I'm afraid I just enjoy coffee! But if you can't consume it, there's no helping it--can you manage tea?" Angela looks to Rita, quirking her head. "Would you prefer to eat alone? If you are concerned about shocking me..." Chewie comes out into Welfare, heading towards the table. He has brought two plates. One looks a bit like seaweed rolls with something that looks like raw thinly sliced shark meat inside of them? And the other one looks more like a hard-scaley red and blue sashimi. "Miss Rita...! I hope this dish delights you..!" Chewie says. "To think I would be brought back from death so I could deliver this meal to you...!" "Do not be overexcited, Chewie." Angela says.
Rita Ma	"But I still participate in this process here, Miss Rita..." Rita doesn't have time to respond before they're out in 'public' again. But her sidelong look of discomfort falls well short of shock. "Ah, no, I'm afraid I just enjoy coffee!" "You-??" Rita starts to say, leaning forward in her seat. When Chesed 'drinks' it, she looks utterly baffled. She puts up her palms with an awkward laugh: "Um, that's, wonderful for you! But no, I'm sorry! I can't have tea anymore. Thank you for offering, anyway!" I can't believe he can drink things. Am I jealous? Fortunately she doesn't have time for envy. She's just setting down her satchel and about to answer Angela when 'Chewie' comes in, and she presses her palms together and nearly bounces in her seat with starry-eyed delight. "Oh! Saengseon-hoe! And that's a kind of kimbap, isn't it? Thank you so much, Mr. Chewie! I'm sure it will." Only the bit about being 'brought back to life' makes her blanch a little. She looks back over her shoulder at Angela questioningly. Back to Chewie, with nervous positivity: "That's, really wonderful? You seem like an amazing chef! You'll get to keep living after this, right?" ... She waits until she and Angela are as alone as they're going to be. Only then does she pick up the chopsticks- her fingers tremble just a little- and remember the earlier question. Rita swallows her drool before she speaks. The anticipation and glee have had time to drain out, leaving behind only a faint joy. "I don't know. Being watched is scary. But being left alone doesn't feel great, either. I guess it comes down to whether you'd really think it's okay, Ms. Angela." She pokes at the 'shark' meat with one chopstick and smiles forlornly, her dilated eyes laser-focused on the plate. "It's okay to think I'm gross. That won't hurt my feelings. But I will feel bad if you're pretending not to."
Angela	"Oh, ah, well--it took some time but now I'm addicted...!" Chesed pretends to not know what that's really about, keeping up that genial presence with an effortless flair that isn't actually effortless, simply well practiced. Chewie, the chef who has in fact cooked human before, smiles bashfully and rubs at his neck. "Oh, ahh,, thank you Miss Rita. That's all I ask!" ''You seem like an amazing chef! You'll get to keep living after this, right?'' "Oh hopefully so," Chewie says. "But if I'm killed again, I hope they have the decency to prepare my body properly. You shouldn't waste good meat. Miss Kukuru was really kind to give me another go around." He dips his head. "Enjoy your meal!" And then he heads off, more alive than he's felt like in a while. "An Abnormality consumed him briefly but Captain Hook performed a maneuver to rescue him. It was a near thing." Angela explains. She turns her head and nods to Chesod who brings an accentuator arm to his 'chest' and then waddles off on her own, leaving the two of them alone. "Mm..." Angela thinks, deciding to try and be honest about this rather than strictly polite. "I suppose there is only one way to find out, Miss Rita." Angela says, moving to sit down across from her. "I have learned of the pleasure of eating, Miss Rita, and I have seen Abnormalities eat men and women alive. It has sadly reached the point where it ceases to disturb me. Naturally, I do not neccessarily consider this to be a ''good'' thing, but if it allows me to spend time with you while you eat--then at least something good came of it." It's frankly hard to imagine Rita as gross but she knows that what meets the eye isn't always so clear.
Rita Ma	"I hope they have the decency to prepare my body correctly." Rita looks like a family member has just found her porn. "... Yeah! Ms. Kukuru is really wonderful!" she manages to say, when the light returns to her eyes. Her voice still fumbles, and she's too eager to wave him goodbye. "Please stay safe out there, Mr. Chewie! You're- I'm sure it's delicious!" ---- Tantalizing herself by staring at the 'kimbap' is unbearable, but meeting Angela's eyes would be worse. When Angela moves to sit down, Rita perks up and makes a little "ah-!" of protest, but then slouches back down and doesn't object when she settles in. "It has sadly reached the point where it ceases to disturb me." Tentatively, she does look up. Angela can see the wavering self-doubt in her eyes. It doesn't take a mind-reader to tell she's thinking: but what if I'm worse? It's an act of bravery for her to finally say: "Okay. If you think you'll be alright, I trust you, Ms. Angela. Thank you." The words are sincere even if her smile isn't. Her chopsticks tremble when she picks up the 'shark' sashimi. She didn't try to say I'm not gross. So she's probably telling the truth. She brings the first piece to her lips, taking one nibble, and then another. It's like a dam breaking. 'Ordinary' monster flesh shouldn't get to her this badly, but the smell of human blood has been haunting her ever since she got here. She needs something. She needs this. At first she smiles and savors it and makes happy noises. That ends around the fourth bite. Using her utensils ends around the sixth. By the tenth bite she isn't really 'biting' at all, or even 'swallowing'; Angela can be pretty sure that Rita shoves one or two pieces down her own throat whole. Humans eat for joy and animals eat for need, but this isn't either. It's running from something. Putting out a fire inside her, plugging a fatal wound. It ought to be horribly messy but it's not. Even glassy-eyed, she doesn't waste a scrap. She rears up out of her seat to hunch over it. Rita gasps. Was she not breathing that whole time? She pants raggedly and collapses back into her seat, looking down at the empty plates, and then up at Angela with wild-eyed anxiety, and then takes a jarringly dainty sip of water to have an excuse not to speak, and then starts scrubbing her hands thoroughly with a napkin to have an excuse not to hold her gaze. "Um. I'm sorry, Ms. Angela," she says, when she finally catches her breath. "I'm usually... it's not..." Her fingertips slice through the paper with the slightest graze. The scrubbing turns it to confetti before long, but she keeps going while she struggles to find the words for an apology.
Angela	Angela is starting to learn that honesty is the best policy, sometimes, even if she is an AI that can lie. But more relevantly, she has learned that too much honesty often reads like a lie. ''You're- I'm sure it's delicious!'' Chewie kinda figured what she meant, what a sweet girl. He considers what he would make of himself that Rita could eat but also fulfil his culinary passions. Now that he knows the dietary requirements he's sure he could think of something. He dwells on this for a period that even by District 23 standards is maybe a bit too long--even if being deemed a delicious meal is an honor for any chef in that District. But what if Rita's worse? Angela wouldn't know until she sees it. Battling the Yin Yang Dragon to get off a slice of its meat was the hardest part of the affair and Angela elects to not tell Rita of just HOW painful it was to collect. At least it wasn't during the Meltdown. The flesh doesn't taste like human flesh for the most part. It tastes mostly like fish actually, at least at first. Monster fish? Sure. Rita's probably had that right? But these are still ultimately human concepts birthed by human minds. There may be a slight aftertaste, like it's still in the ingredients somewhere. Angela watches Rita eat. She doesn't smile, exactly, her expression is still as stoic as it tends to be. She CAN smile but she generally avoids giving her realest and truest smiles out in the world until the moment comes. It is, at least, not horror and shock that crosses her features, though she doesn't ease back and smile at someone simply enjoy a meal. She seems...thoughtful more than anything. You are finally allowed to be kind, Angela thinks to herself, but that actually makes things harder, doesn't it? Kindness is difficult to express. And maybe Rita has enough kindness that she shouldn't rely on it too much. "I am not bothered by your table manners, Miss Rita. Rather..." Angela considers. "My apologies, it is difficult to place but you seem..." She tries her best. "It seemed like you were managing your own Qlipoth Meltdown Level. Managing yourself to avoid a Breach? I am not saying this is accurate, just--the feeling I got." She opens her golden eyes.
Rita Ma	"I am not bothered by your table manners, Miss Rita." Rita- in the middle of cleaning under her fingernails- softly startles. Her eyes flick up with an "Mmm?" of surprise. She'd just decided that she seems like an honest person, and now a curveball like that is that much harder to brush off. She feebly protests being accepted. "But, Ms. Angela, I..." "Managing yourself to avoid a Breach?" That shuts her up. Rita looks baffled for a second, and then swiftly embarrassed and seen. Her eyes fall to her lap, and she wipes her lips with the napkin just to buy another second or two to form words. "No," she says softly, "it's accurate. You get it, Ms. Angela. As much as anyone but Ms. Rook. Maybe more." The napkin dryly crackles in her balled-up hand. Rita's face squirms for a second, but it settles back to calm. "It feels nice to hear you say I'm a danger to people. 'Breach'. Nobody else thinks so. That's nice, sometimes. And I hate it sometimes. I fooled them, and now they don't believe me that I'm holding anything in. I think even Ms. Rook sometimes forgets." Her lips squiggle tightly. A wave of sharp emotion passes through her, and she shrinks in on herself. Then it's gone. She looks up at Angela bashfully, and smiles, and for once it shows a glimpse of her 'teeth', a ruin of enamel in a hundred life-ending angles. "I wasn't always like this, Ms. Angela," she says. "It's been long enough that I learned how to deal with it. But short enough that I still remember 'normal'." "You know what that's like, don't you?" Rita's eyes slide off to the side again, resting on the door out. "How to put on a face for them."
Angela	Angela wonders how Chewie would have taken it, the way she ate the food. She seemed to really enjoy it, then it seemed to become something else. The Agents who leave the facility notice the shift in smell better than Angela is capable of. "If I am in the vincinity of the Dame Commander's insight, then I'll take that as a compliment." Angela says. She is not a modest person but if she trusts in the competency of anyone, she trusts in the Dame Commander's. It isn't just because of how well Lilian talks her game either. She's seen her in action. Admittedly, seeing someone who expresses that kind of ready confidence doesn't hurt. The multiverse seems to lack in such confidence. She thinks of Lilian speaking of how the girls fear what they could be a little. Angela knows that fear as well. "Well you are charming." Angela admits. "No shame in that, but danger can be charming too. I don't find it mutually exclusive." She wonders if those teeth could rip into her own body. She's very durable, designed to endure infinity if need be. She isn't inclined to make a test of it. I wans't always like this either, Angela thinks to herself. She doesn't say it, but it flickers across her golden eyes in a brief bitter moment. Maybe it's that, more than anything, that feeds Angela's ire. "Yes Miss Rita," She says of putting on faces. "I am a secretary, after all." She phrases it lightly for anything but. Her gaze travels to the door. "They will be ready come the final battle." Angela says eventually. "I cannot fight directly, not even Gebura can, unfortunately. But we will be sending our strongest agents as well. Your brother made an impression on them." And then, she thinks, maybe you can have it both ways.
Rita Ma	Rita's smile brightens at 'charming', and dims only a little at 'dangerous'. Knives are dangerous and everyone has them. It's not as bad as 'scary'. But Ms. Angela doesn't seem scared of anything, so maybe that doesn't mean much. "It's important to be charming. I try my hardest," she admits, with a tiny helpless shrug and a chagrined smile. "I don't want to be hated, Ms. Angela. But I don't want to be given too much credit either. Maybe that's not possible for someone like me, but..." Rita stands up, but her eyes linger on Angela's for a moment longer than politeness requires of her. Does she notice that flash of bitterness? Her smile shifts towards sympathetic after. "My brother," she repeats fondly. "He was always good at that. Thank you so much, Ms. Angela. I'll try to be ready for it too, whatever that means." "I don't know how I'll pay you back for this. But I want to try, somehow. Oh, and, um, Ms. Angela-" Rita stacks her plates, and puts the chopsticks and the half-full glass of water on top of them, and scoops them up with a little "ah-!" of audible effort even though Angela knows she can rip steel. "Where do I put these?"