ph_logs | Suppression Request: Bad Habits

Suppression Request: Bad Habits

Who: Agent Jean & CR/YOU
What: Jean has returned from a trip
When: Starts March 17th
Where: Places
Warnings: Discussion of violence, mind alteration, and death

Work Order: Attachment | Closed to Zelda and/or Pomni

Jean left their sending stone behind with they left on their mission with Jon, out of concern that communications might be intercepted. When they get back with Jon, stepping off of a golden skiff, the first thing they ask is to borrow one from a dockworker to contact their partners. Their voice over it is...

Good. Better than they've sounded in awhile. The first solid few minutes of their message is an excited tour through variations on "I love you," "I'm back," "I'm safe," "I love you," and "I'm sorry," frequently lapsing into Korean. Once they manage to calm down something more coherent comes out:

"Going home to pick up my sending stone and rack Twilight. Don't touch Twilight, it's angry. I've got to take a piece of Intel to Neil straight away, it can't wait, I'm sorry. Please contact me as soon as you can, I'll have my stone in less than an hour. So glad to be back. Love you again."

Work Order: Insight | Closed to Neil and Elias

By sending stone, shortly after dropping off the sword, to Neil West:

"Doctor, I've got urgent intelligence. Please bring Comrade Coldwood, I'm on my way to your clinic immediately. Reasonable containment measures for a Page may need preparation."

Work Order: Instinct

Our little chicken nugget has some advice to heed. Friends with them? Even a little? They're being surprisingly socially active. They'd like you over for dinner, or they can come by to help out. They're looking for lessons in your crafts and passions ("I'm trying out new things, comrade!"), hell, they'll even go on walks through the woods.

Of potential note is a sharp increase in their interest in rum, here to include books on the subject, evening drinks trying it out at Oak & Iron, and staring in vague incomprehension at the selection of it at various shops.

Come get your chicken.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Ever since Arilanna Tayrey saw Jean's notice she's wanted to have a conversation, so when an acquaintance points them out, she - well, she doesn't approach, the first time, because she's been in the tavern too long and everyone knows that if there's the slightest potential for contract negotiation you have to go into it sober. So she bides her time, and it's the second time she spots Jean that she goes over.

Tayrey's looking more herself now, in bright spacer-blue coveralls with embroidered patches and her little silver lieutenant's star. It wasn't the first priority, but it was high on the list. Her dark cloth belt has a slightly battered-looking revolver slung through it. A loan from her employer, until she can choose something better for herself. She strides over to Jean's table, all easy spacer confidence.

'Peace and prosperity.' Catching attention with a greeting, that's only polite. 'Tell me, would you happen to be the Citizen Jean who runs the local planetary militia?' That'd be almost a contradiction in terms, out in her sector, but this planet isn't unified, and this part of it being under isolation is the problem they're all here to deal with.

Today's fit is Cobalt Scar; Jean's friend Vah Midna would also like to try rum, and in any event is being somewhat protective lately. Tayrey's greeting gets a broad smile that shows off Jean's odd, triangular teeth. They put a hand on their lapel, almost -

- petting it -

"I prefer Agent, but yes!" They cross their free hand over their chest to bow while still seated. "How can I assist you, comrade?"

For a brief moment a flicker of sheer astonishment crosses her face. Yes, the teeth are unusual, but that's not what catches her attention. It's a total stranger calling her comrade. Back home she'd have suspected manipulation; here she knows different only because everything is different, and because Peter already had an odd reaction to the term. She'd only use it for someone she trusted to have at her side in battle, someone she knew wouldn't let her down.

She'll tread lightly with this one. 'Agent, then. I'm Lieutenant Tayrey. New arrival. Can I join you? I saw your notice and I have a few questions.'

"Of course, please do!" This is going to delay the rum tasting but life doesn't stop just because Kora said to slow down - besides, the levy project is...genuinely satisfying. It feeds a nameless urge not unlike the one that drives Jean to help feed people through their work. "You're not the first with inquiries and I suspect you won't be the last -"

A peeping sound from Jean's suit pocket. They look down, hold up a hand, and very gently retrieve a baby chicken from said pocket, holding her in cupped palms. "My apologies, Lieutenant, this is Agent Charlie. I take her with me when I'm not expecting trouble."

'I'd say it's anyone who signs up without asking a single question that you have to watch,' says Tayrey amiably as she pulls out a chair and takes a seat opposite Jean. The small cheeps from that pocket don't go unnoticed, and her eyes widen as the little bird is revealed. Her posture stiffens, and she's not quite sure where to look. There's no fear, not of an animal that small, but certainly an awkwardness about having it in such close proximity.

She tries to shrug it off. 'It's no trouble. I expect she'll give you eggs when she's grown, and that makes her useful enough.' Very practical. On to business. 'My first question is about size and scope. Given the lack of pay details, I take it you're not offering any? You're aiming for a large reserve militia trained to step up in times of crisis?'

Ahh, Jean knows that reaction! They were having it about just about everything when they first got here. They've got so many sketches of plants because they were trying to figure out how the trees might attack.

Good times.

"Size...is not necessarily an objective," Jean answers after some consideration; they gently set Charlie down on the bar, where she is then provided with, you see, The Seeds(tm). She's a growing girl, she needs her snacks. "In order of importance - early warnings against natural and unnatural disasters, rapid response to the same in service of preserving life and infrastructure, and encouraging the native citizens out of their...malaise." Malaise is a good word. "Membership is strictly voluntary, which does mean no pay, but that doesn't mean no support! Among other things there's weapons and training available, and the town's already put up its own resources to help during our first major crisis, just before your arrival. Saturation strike from the stars, it got...bad."

...Wait a minute.

"...Is that the sky up there..."

Tayrey's not sure what to make of that last remark, but she's unfazed by it. Genuine concern or something closer to a space sickness case, both need the same reassurance. 'Roof looks solid and the sky was all clear when I came in,' she says in a low voice. 'I'm a spacer lieutenant; I'd notice if it wasn't.' Except that if there's a threat from the stars, they really need a detection system that doesn't rely on visual observation. By the time the enemy's in orbit you're already too late. It's troubling.

'Can you tell me what happened? Who's up there? Why did they attack? And - meaning no criticism of your efforts, I'm sure you make the best of the resources you have, but how did you repel them? The technology here doesn't look like it'd hold up against attack by a spacefaring civilization.'

"Hahaha, haha, ha...ha...no we would not," Jean agrees. The laughter is what one might charitably call a nervous response; still, even while they're laughing Jean is retrieving a notebook and paging through it. When they set it on the counter it's open to a well-labeled pencil sketch of what appears to be an elk with stars for bones; clear lines connect it inside ('Breakable' is labeled there, along with annotations of a ballpark amount of force), and the 'flesh' is labeled as gel ('Mildly toxic').

"No formal designation for these yet," Jean explains, paging through many more - each animal-like in shape, each labeled, and all far bigger than a human for scale in their picture. "These star creatures fell for approximately two months, give or take, from roughly 0200 until sunrise whenever the sky was visible. No tactics, strategy, or goal has been observed or surmised, but some behaviors were consistent - hostility towards terrestrial life, a preference for prey in the open over attacking infrastructure, and attraction to noise and movement among them. So..."

Flip flip flip flip. Agent Charlie comes over to peep and to stare at the book; Jean pets her absently, until they reach a hand drawn map of the town, with a series of barricades labeled on two sides of the Festival Green. Each position has numbers of fighters, names for runners, the local doctors, and team leaders, and lines of retreat labeled. Jean looks back up at Tayrey. "Simple defense in depth, but I don't have unlimited money or fighters, hahaha...we lured them in with bells and shouting to funnel them down these streets, and gave them something to fight. Effective but not flawless...defending the farms and other outlying areas is still a problem."

Edited 2024-03-24 14:06 (UTC)

Animals. Giant animals looking for prey. Like something out of her nightmares, literally - but she can't be Ari who has nightmares over the hell she's been through right now, she has to be Lieutenant Tayrey of the Tradelines. Competent. Reliable. If her silence stretches too long, it's only because she's carefully examining those sketches, isn't it? No reason to doubt her.

'It seems like you did a fine job,' she says, fingers coming to rest on the map. 'Training these people, leading them. Sound tactics.' And if this were one of their colonies, she'd be able to tell Jean not to worry, that the Tradelines were in-system now with the resources and the firepower to solve this problem. But they aren't. No ships, no spacers - not even so much as a single energy pistol. Only Tayrey herself, and she's honest enough about her own capabilities to know she wouldn't make much of a difference here.

'Your outlying farms. I know you offered training to the homesteaders, and I'm sure you'll have advised them to stay indoors and quiet during the hours of danger, and to keep livestock inside as well. It's really all that can be done. Giving them the tools to defend themselves. You did well. The creatures weren't organised, didn't communicate - so you outsmarted them.'

She's still thinking it through, and she asks, curious. 'Are the stars in the bone structure symbolic, or were the creatures really tiny fusion reactors? Extremely hot?'

"...Neither," Jean answers after a long think; their frown of concentration is a small gesture, but it hides a lot of those teeth - indeed, a lot of their more unguarded reactions show less teeth. "They're...like something out of a fairy tale, or maybe a cartoon. The constellations in them break like bones, and yet the slain creatures dissolved into a substance that people have taken to calling stardust. I've stockpiled quite a bit of it, and it's been submitted for testing to local technological and magical experts - you'll want Doctor First Aid, Doctor West, and Comrades Tarantulas and Salazar for more information there." Their eyes slide back towards the map. "...An organized invasion is still my concern. Even small raids meant to spread misery could strike the outlying farms all too easily and slide us back into famine, and I don't have good answers to those tactics. Lord Erik can get there swiftly, certainly, and even inform the rest of us, but by the time we arrive..."

Tayrey frowns. 'I don't have the cultural context,' she says with a wave of her hand. Fairy tales. Cartoons. That damned magic again. None of it signifies anything useful to her, and it's a frustration. Still, she takes what she can. They're not truly starlike. Breakable. Dissolving into an unknown substance.

'It almost sounds like picotechnology, but I'd think a civilization capable of that would apply it better, strategically speaking' she comments, as much to herself as to Jean. 'Unless it's in decay or collapse, but - well, no sense in speculating when you've had no communication beyond creature attacks.'

She takes her hand away from the map, peering at it again. 'Organized raids would be a different problem altogether. I take it there's not the manpower for routine border patrols. Ideally you'd need... a broadcast tower, with relay stations in the outlying areas if needed. Any citizen sighting trouble could use one of those communicators to get the message back quick, and then the tower could raise the alarm region-wide.' She sighs. 'Not that it would solve everything.' It'd be a start.

"Deployment is the beast that needs slaying," Jean agrees glumly. "Although we do have the skywatch and firewatch towers! Still volunteers, but with the new sending stones communication is at least instant."

It's. Better than nothing.

Tayrey nods, slowly. 'Any good solution that springs to mind requires technology that just isn't here, but I'll think on it.'

She can't help a small smile, though, seeing that Jean's gotten ahead of her with the towers. 'I neglected to explain my interest,' she says. 'Told you I'm a spacer lieutenant. My primary duties are charts and piloting, but starship officers have to be versatile. I've led damage control teams in the middle of battle, led planetary expeditions, I'm decent with mechanical repairs and firearms. And I know how to stand watch and not let my attention wander.' Tayrey's lips curve upward in a half-smirk, knowing that's a sticking point for more people than one might expect. 'You're not paying, so I can't offer loyalty or guarantees I'll always be available, but I'm also here to help this town. You need someone to take a tower shift or walk the border, I'll slot it in around my profitable commitments. If you want me.'

She's not going to make the assumption, after all. Her experience skews heavily shipside, and this is a small-scale planetary defense problem.

"Starships..." Something clicks, and Jean lets out an embarrassed laugh. "My apologies, comrade, you'd said before but I hadn't made the connection! If your chartmaking skills can be turned to terrestrial cartography I'd be quite willing to pay for good maps at the towers, regardless of your choice to volunteer - it's a small thing, but decent maps are hard to find without satellites..."

Charlie has finished her seeds, and walks towards Ari to stare at her, tiny head turning side to side. Somehow this tiny chicken is squaring up.

"...As far as the work goes, my only request is that you make reasonable effort to perform a duty you sign up for. A shift at a tower, for instance. The duty roster is kept at Town Hall and usually filled about two weeks out. And of course the training sessions are a public service, should you want experience with a more reliable weapon."

Now it's Tayrey's turn to look flustered, and not only because the small chicken appears to be advancing on her. 'Let me clarify,' she says quickly, 'if I put my name to a shift, word by contract I'll be there. I take my duties very seriously. All I mean to say is that you can't call on me at short notice, and I won't be able to take as many shifts as I like, because my employer has to come first.' She doesn't break contract. If Tayrey doesn't turn up for an agreed shift, probably best to send her a medic, because something would have to be gravely wrong to stop her.

'I don't take charity,' she goes on, because the distinction between that and public services doesn't exist in her libertarian mind, 'but I assure you I keep my weaponry in good working order - and I'd be very pleased to take on that cartographical work. It'll take some time, because I'll want precision, but I can do it.' Precision and aesthetically delightful maps, that'll be her aim. It takes longer without the benefit of computers, but she does know how.

Having said what she needed to, she stares again at Charlie. If chickens were telepaths, this one would be hearing a clearly-transmitted that's close enough.

"...Charity?" Jean is confused. Not even offended, more along the lines that Ari said 'I don't drink paint'. They're very much trying to figure out how she even got there. "Comrade...you are a combatant, yes? Someone I need to be able to rely on in battle? I, hahahaha, HAHAHAHAH -"

Charlie stops advancing on Ari to go back to Jean, who is clearing their throat. "Ahem, my apologies, I have a responsibility to contribute to our contract! Teaching is one of the better ways I can improve the overall environment, especially given how chaotic these battlefields are!"

Is Jean laughing at her? The warm glow Tayrey feels when she's called comrade by someone she barely knows but whom she'd happily fight beside dims a little. She, too, is confused.

Then the explanation comes. Teaching offered as part of a contract is a different proposition altogether.

'You can rely on me,' she says firmly. 'I'm good with a gun. I'm still getting used to the guns they have here, but I'm putting in the hours. Getting faster. More accurate. I won't let you down, comrade. Word by contract. I'll take advice on shooting if you want to give it, but I don't need... basic militia training. I'm a qualified starship officer, passed and certified.'

She very much does need it, where anything not a gun is concerned, but there are at least half a dozen reasons why Tayrey won't join group training that's open to the public.

"I...have a low opinion of firearms," Jean admits, almost sheepishly. "And I'm willing to demonstrate why, if you're amenable! One moment."

Jean first asks the bartender to watch Agent Charlie, and then digs through pockets and digs through pockets and digs through pockets and digs through pockets and finally comes up with their Brass; they count out a small supply of it and set it down in front of Ari.

"To replace the bullets," Jean explains.

You can never have too many pockets. Jean has Ari's silent approval for that, at least. And her not-so-silent interest in the rest.

'Fair contract,' she says as she pockets the brass. 'Money for bullets, at least. You'll have to be more specific on the rest. The firearms here aren't what I'm used to. They're slower, they only carry six projectiles, no chance of a stun setting. They're still my best option in a fight. But I'm curious about your demonstration.' She can't help a quick grin. 'If you want me to shoot in your direction I'm going to need consent in writing.' Perilously close to one of those ridiculous stationer duels. She's not about to carry the blame if they take risks and it goes wrong.

"Not an obstacle!"

A different notebook is produced, where does Jean keep getting these, do they plan on stopping the bullets with their infinite fucking notebooks? They tear off a pair of pages and write identical notes, which they then sign; one goes to the bartender ("Only a precaution, comrade, I expect to return!"), the other to Ari.

I, Agent Jean of the Pumpkin Hollow Recovery Task Force, being of sound body and mind and in control of my faculties, do hereby attest the following: I have willfully requested that Lieutenant Tayrey, a fellow comrade from the ferry, take no less than six (6) shots directly at me with her service firearm. This request is made for demonstration purposes and should no way be construed as malice, self-harm on my part, inter-departmental violence, or any other act of malfeasance. In the unlikely event of my death, I entrust Lt. Tayrey with temporary custody of the earthly possessions on my body until such time as either myself or Comrades Zelda, Pomni, or Jon can arrive to return them to my home. Agent Jean of Hyrule (Pending)

"Shall we go to the riverfront? Less chance of stray shots hitting someone."

She reads over the note very carefully, hesitating over the part where Jean might arrive to return their own possessions to their home after death. It's a non-standard clause, for sure, but she's not about to question it. All sorts of peculiarities in this place. Aside from that oddity, it's well-written. Sound. Ari calls over one of the locals, has them read it and sign as witness, and then she's satisfied.

'Nicely done,' she tells Jean. 'Sure, the river's not too far.' Now people really are going to think it's a duel. No matter. She slings her bag over her shoulder and leaves the tavern, setting off at a brisk pace. As they walk, she asks: 'So, you really want me to just shoot at you? You have some kind of shielding, is that it?'

"No shielding! Haha, hahaha, AHAHAHA -" Jean coughs, "- I used to, when I wore the Page of Captain Nikoli, but she's alive again so I can't. Good technology..."

They sigh wistfully, then continue: "However, my friend Vah Midna here," they tug their lapels, "does give me several properties cognate to hostiles I've encountered here! And I do prefer demonstration over lecture!"

'I have so many questions,' Tayrey admits. She feels as though she's missing something. Not in the usual way, where she wants to blame errors of translation, but in that it feels as if she can almost grasp the meaning. Almost but not quite.

Best guess is that Jean took a shielding device from a dead captain, but said captain didn't stay dead and understandably wanted her shield back. And the rest? Maybe Jean's wearing layered silk under the visible clothing. Tayrey almost asks. If it's that, Jean's knowledge could prove extremely valuable to her. She decides against asking only because she doesn't want to spoil the big reveal of the demonstration, if that's what it is. Let Jean enjoy it.

'Demonstration first,' she confirms. 'There's no substitute for that. Then we'll get to the leftover questions!' Assuming it works, and Jean is not dead.

Jean nods and paces to the bank of the river, giving Tayrey plenty of range. They crack their neck and settle into a fighting stance.

"Stop me from touching you," they call out. "And fire at will, comrade!"

She's had some practice with the revolver, so while she's not quite as swift or as accurate with it as she would be with her regular energy pistol, she's confident enough. She can hit a stationary target! Although she hopes it won't end in disaster, that thought won't stop her from doing her best.

Smooth and steady, she takes aim, cocks the hammer, and fires at Jean's chest.

For the briefest of moments, something cobalt and red seems to overlay Jean, and then they're moving, their lunge starting as the hammer is drawn back. They do not zig-zag or make an effort to dodge, but their hands whirl in a blur; the meaty impact of bullet on flesh is heard, yes, but no blood...

They're moving so fast, eating up the space between them with unholy alacrity. Each shot makes them slow down for split-up seconds to meet it with hands or feet. Humans shouldn't be able to react this quickly; they definitely shouldn't be giving off these many audio cues that they've been shot without bleeding or slowing down. As Ari makes the smart play, retreating and fanning the hammer, Jean leaps, and twists -

- third shot. Something connects with their furry boot and goes high into the air -

- and they twist, catching the fourth shot with a motion of their palm that disagrees with physics and wins -

- and puts them in a position to continue the motion, backhanding the fifth shot -

They land in arm's reach and take the sixth full in the chest without flinching. Now there is blood, a misting puff of it mixed with furs from their suit, and yet the smiling corporate soldier simply reaches out and taps Ari on the back of the hand while holding their other palm-up. Three bullets, crumpled from impact, are held in it already; the remaining two not in Jean's body fall into the pile with soft clinks, still smoking from the heat.

The sixth drops out from the inside of their suit as if pushed.

"A bear could do something quite similar," Jean says brightly. "As could the star-creatures! You'll need heavier firepower...but something that can transfer more force, like the halberds the levy uses, is simply indispensable for larger hostiles."

Tayrey holds her nerve. This was by no means guaranteed. The last time she had found herself shooting at something that would not stop, would not die, it had resulted in unimaginable terror and pain for her. No escape.

Here, she stands her ground. She doesn't panic, tries to make each shot count. None of them do. When Jean taps her hand she practically leaps backward, and has to tell herself, over and over, that there is no danger. That it wasn't a trap, that Jean isn't going to hurt her. Her conscious mind fighting desperately for control over her instincts, over the fear still rising in her body. This is a person to avoid, all those instincts scream. This is a person who could kill you with minimal effort and there's nothing you can do.

She keeps her control, but for a long moment after Jean speaks there's nothing but a glassy stare on Tayrey's face.

'Congratulations,' she says at last. 'That was impressive.' That's what you're supposed to do, isn't it? Someone bests you in training, your simulation screen flashes up red or their target looks neater than yours, the worst thing you can do is act aggrieved about it. If Tayrey's awkward right now, if the words sound hollow, it's not dented spacer pride that lies behind it.

She tucks the revolver back through the belt loop where she keeps it, and straightens up again. 'I take your point,' she says. 'I won't sign up for shifts. You really should make your advertising clearer, set out your requirements, and then demonstrations won't be necessary.' Unless Jean enjoys that sort of thing, but she's not inclined to unpick that right now. She's back to being the girl in a new apprentice's uniform with her Cardalek braids still hanging down her back. What should you do if we're boarded? Hide in the chart room. At least then she'd been surrounded by people she could trust.

This island isn't a safe place. It isn't a place for Tayrey to relax. This is something else to endure and to survive until she can get home.

"Comrade..." Concern, genuine and innocent, almost childlike in how unpracticed they are in displaying it, crosses Jean's face. The expression hides most of those odd teeth. "My apologies, my intention wasn't to discourage. Most recorded hostiles haven't been able to match me for speed; mostly my concern is this."

They tap the bullet hole in their suit, which is already sealing over with new cloth and fur. There is no sign of blood.

"My offer to teach is in earnest, and if firearms are your preference a primary armament like a rifle may do you a lot of good! The point I was trying to make is not that you shouldn't fight, but that your personal safety is not served by specialization. My own training was..."

"...Unkind. I don't wish it on others."

Again she pauses, mental gears whirring. Tayrey knows that Jean's concern is real, and it's touching. It might be the one reason she doesn't make an excuse and bolt.

'I'm sorry for it,' she says. 'Training should be demanding, without unkindness. Mine was... supportive. And tailored to the needs of a trainee officer aboard a starship. To my particular strengths and skills.'

There's a little worried crease in her brow as she decides that honesty is called for. 'Then I was separated from all my comrades. I know we all died to get here, so it's nothing special, but mine? Came after I was firing an energy pistol on an intensity setting that would turn a regular human into red mist at this... monster. That hardly even slowed down. And I've got first-class Cardalek genetics, accelerated healing - not like yours. Milder. The sort that meant I took ten days to die. Of injuries I won't describe. My body fought against it, and lost again. So what you've proven to me is that if I care about my personal safety at all I need to stand well clear of unknown beings in this place, because my risk tolerance for being put in a situation like that ever again? It's approaching zero.'

She sighs. 'That's not a complaint against you. There are far worse ways I could have discovered it.'

"Oh, no, the healing isn't me!" Jean tugs at their lapels, careful not to drop the bullets. "That's Vah Midna here, protects well against damage solely to the body. The speed is me! Me and combat implants." Their voice lowers in vague embarrassment: "The laughing is um. Haha, it's a bit of a side effect."

Deep breath.

"My concern is that you may not be able to select your participation in such situations, but! Hahaha, ha...harsh as my teachings were, they have prepared me to help! I can offer more personal lessons, it might be of use! One fights differently with a team than alone, and if you prefer not to fight with the levy..."

An olive branch. A chance to negotiate.

'If I have no way to select not to participate in a fight that I haven't a flame's chance in vacuum of winning,' says Tayrey, in the same flat tone she'd used to describe her death, 'then this is another long nightmare and I'm calling breach of contract on Citizen Mortanne.'

That's the simple truth of it.

More animation returns to her voice as she adds: 'At least now I know you're not laughing at me. If I had a trial personal lesson, I'd have three conditions.' She ticks them off on her fingers, for precision. 'One, I pay for it. Two, it stays between us, no gossip. Three, if I call for a stop at any point, we stop. None of those lines about how the enemy won't. I've got to be able to trust you.'

"There are actionable objectives beyond victory," Jean says softly. "You'll never hear me complaining that someone lived to fight another day."

The conditions are listened to with great seriousness. They nod once at the end, and speak up: "We'll need to try a variety of weapons, but I was quite serious about heavier firepower. Luckily I know who can point the way! Comrade Leeds maintains an extensive collection of functional firearms and may even be able to assist in measurements for a proper rifle. I don't know if her collection is for sale, but surely her advice must be?"

Tayrey points a finger at Jean. 'That'd be an immediate breach of condition two,' she says, but it's more of a faintly amused remark than an accusation. 'I'll talk to my contacts at Lockwood Security if I need to source more weaponry. Say it's for work purposes, which is mostly true and doesn't invite questions I don't want.'

Then she tilts her head, looking Jean over again. 'Your clothing - you call it vah midna? What's it made of? I'd been looking at the possibility of layered silk for body armor, since I doubt I'll get the composite polymers we had back home.'

"My apologies, comrade, I'd envisioned that you would approach her yourself." Jean looks genuinely contrite there; perhaps they're sensitive to social faux pas.

Luckily there's another topic!

"Vah Midna, yes, that's his name." Jean tugs the lapels proudly. "This suit is the product of Cognito technology, and both is and isn't a part of my friend Vah Midna, whom I've worked with in the past! The specifics are a little beyond me but it affords some protection to my body and mind, though mostly the body. Other such equipment has different protection but a similar function..."

A look flickers across their face. "If you find clothing that puts you in contact with another entity, please inform me. It can be dangerous to the user without proper...resonance. Conflict with the entity can be mutagenic."

Jean isn't to know that Tayrey is intensely private about her weaknesses, and that involving a total stranger, much less one with the social standing of the Leeds family, isn't something she'd be willing to do. Not wanting to debate that, she just gives Jean a reassuring look, a quick nod, acceptance of that apology.

She clearly struggles with the notion that a suit can be part of a person, but Tayrey has lived through so much peculiarity that she doesn't interrupt, just accepts that in Jean's home universe this is a thing that can happen.

Her response is a considered one. 'If it can happen simply by touching the clothing, I'll break contact at once and find a safe way to transport it to you. But it's unlikely.' She indicates her own blue and silver outfit. 'I'm representing the Tradelines, and looking the part matters to me, even if there's nobody else to care about it. It's a symbol of not losing sight of who I am, yes?'

An eager nod; when Jean's genuinely smiling, they show a lot less of those pointed teeth. "I understand, comrade. Luckily, mere contact is insufficient. Most such clothing manifests in a form like this one - a layer of business formal," here they touch the tie on the inside of Cobalt Scar, the suit vest under the furred jacket, "that has been altered with some outwardly fantastical element. Touching, transporting, even laundering the clothing is perfectly safe, but depending on the strength of the entity or the presence or absence of conflict, side effects can become permanent on a scale from weeks to hours. Mister Calloway and I have an understanding that these E.G.O. armors and weapons will be kept aside for me, for the general safety of the public. Even if they don't see use...I shudder to think of what might happen in improper hands."

They frown in thought. "...Though a few that may be useful to you present themselves to me, if they appear. I'd, hahaha, HAHAHAH, ha...need to know you a bit better before jumping to conclusions, but...hrm...well, cross that bridge when we come to it!"

'I understand,' says Tayrey quietly. She's still taking it all in. The critical information about the danger the suits present, yes, but also smaller scraps. That's what passes for business formal on Jean's homeworld, for instance. Not the buttoned shirts and long robes favored by Cardalek's Directors.

'I intend to keep a safe distance from any entity I can't either do fair and reasonable business with, or fight,' she adds, that firm and definite tone creeping back into her voice. 'But there's no sense in fretting over distant probabilities. What I will tell you-' she leans forward slightly, as if sharing a secret. 'Be careful with that Citizen Calloway. He overcharges to the point of absurdity. He has my papers in there for sale - on plastic, all written in Sector Standard, and he's trying to charge nearly a month's wages for them, as some sort of mystery artifact.' He wouldn't be negotiated down, which had irritated Tayrey even more.

"...Yes, he does that," Jean says with a sigh. "But I am unwilling to escalate my access to this technology to the point of violence, so I'm afraid business must be done. We'll meet again to discuss the details of your training?"

'Very sensible,' Tayrey agrees. 'Yes, we'll meet again to negotiate contract properly.' Once they've both had time to think it over. 'I hope we'll work well together.'

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Suppression Request: Bad Habits

Oak & Iron

Re: Oak & Iron

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Description done with plotting via Discord

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Wrap so we can focus on the other one?

sure! wrap <3