Chapter 3

[thenine]

Who: OTA
Where: Quad
When: Week IV, Day VII - Week VI, Day VI
Summary: Chapter 3 prompts!
Restrictions/Warnings: Violence, blood, et cetera. For anything surpassing 'R' on a rating scale, please create your own log.
Notes: Please title your subject line in the following format -- Open / Closed | Date. OOC event information can be found here. Calendar information/dates can be found here.

Quick Navigation
The Nine
The Company
Westies
True Leithians
Leith
Resistance
The RAC

The Nine: Promises Unmade

Using the increase in unrest, as so many opportunists do, those within the Nine who seek to pursue their own agendas - whether that be family prestige, personal gain, or systematic upheaval - will find bountiful footholds to secure their positions. Land Kendry continues to assert itself as a leader in these troubling times, with Land Derrish falling in tow. Their first target, Land Hyponia, is shaken, careful not to make any mistakes that could crumble the already cracked mortar holding them together with the nobility. Aggressive though Land Derrish may have been, their sights have moved elsewhere, now focusing on driving forward oppressive legislation to replace the Seventh Generation Accords, rather than further eroding the power of Land Hyponia. Kendry is looking to control a functioning oligarchy, not cause a war over the territory that would be up for grabs should Land Hyponia fall. With the announcement of the Seventh Generation accords confirming already widespread rumors, those within the Nine are careful to place blame for the decision on the activities of the Resistance. For many, this is a believable conclusion, as the attacks by the True Leithans shook society at its core on both Westerley and Leith. Being a radical group, their intentions have been conflated with those of the Resistance in the eyes of many. Discourse on the subject isn't uncommon, but any within the Nine who seek a different target of blame best do so quietly, as dissent from within could quickly have one labeled a sympathizer of the unjust cause of the Resistance. On the surface a harmless placating measure taken by the Nine, the new PDDs being distributed through the Quad are touted as the pinnacle of communication technology. While some higher ranking Company officials and members of the nobility may already have access to quick and reliable network connection, these capabilities are now universal with the installation of the Meshwork. The Meshwork will enable all characters to interact in real time via text, video, or voice, but it isn't without side effects. For some reason, characters who frequently use their PDDs or who are in areas of heavily concentrated network use may suffer from headaches, nosebleeds, blurred vision, and/or dizziness, with more severe side effects including temporary blindness, loss of balance, short-term memory loss, and hallucinations. Connection of these symptoms to the PDDs is not the most common diagnosis, as many think the afflictions are a result of the aftershocks of P43X.

The Company: Balancing Act

With clean up from the P43X attack not yet completed, all Company officials should expect to have no singular responsibility, and little time for sleep, as they find the expectations levied upon them to only grow. Frayed nerves can create a hostile working environment, though anyone could be on the receiving end of any outbursts. The streets have returned from their throes of death with new life, but the city's usual clamor is being overtaken by the roar of protest. Some are peaceful demonstrations; some are violent riots, every display a reaction to the repeal of the Seventh Generation Accords. …At least, that’s what it says on paper, the docket that many Company officials receive outlining simple but brutal crowd control and suppression tasks. Whether a bar has been taken over as a hub of dissent, a street corner filled with unmoving protestors, or a Company affiliated storehouse raided, there's plenty to do for those tasked with keeping the peace. You may simply wish to make arrests, or you may welcome the chance to get your hands dirty - the law is on your side, and all voices daring to oppose the order of things need silenced. Those who don't take to the streets will likely find themselves on border control duty, checking the identification and supply dossiers of all incoming and outgoing ships. No one gets in, or out, without the proper clearance. Ship-wide searches have become standard practice, producing storerooms overflowing with contraband. Some may welcome the chance for banal organization, while others may take some 'bonus compensation' for themselves. With the tightening of rules comes the increase of bribery, and Company officials looking to line their pockets will find their opportunities in surplus. Get caught, however, and there's no second-chances. Although the Company audits have concluded, tensions only grow, and anyone found helping those with diverging agendas will be punished swiftly, cast in with the rest of the dissenters.

Westies: Tidal Force

Bereavement weighs heavy in the wake of the P43X attack on Westerley. Burdened by being both the last location of infection and the last to receive medicinal aid, Westies are entrenched in the solemn task of burying their fallen while the merciless machine of the economy marches on. Whether it’s the result of a lost loved one or the continued illness of primary caretakers, the end result is the same: families all across Old Town struggle to feed their children and make ends meet. It’s always been a guiding principle of Westerley—if you can’t work, you can’t eat—but with so many who can do neither, the situation in Old Town begins to grow dire. But there’s hope, albeit in the form of a double-edged blade: with the newly distributed PDDs and Meshwork installation, nonprofit organizations are able to conduct themselves on a wider scale, drawing in more donors from outside of Westerley. While their efforts are ultimately but a drop in the ocean, the renewed spirit of community and altruism provides relief—as well as nourishment—for many who might very well die without it. That same tool which allows the people to come together is also used to rend it; rumors begin to circulate through encrypted bulletins about the emergency meeting held on (Week IV, Day VII). Some of the rumors are wild speculation and fanciful daydreams, but in the mire of them, a grain of truth slips through. The Accords have fallen, they say. Be ready. Most people disregard the rumors, writing them off as the idle machinations of conspiracy theorists. They cling to their hope that soon their children will walk a planet that is bountiful in food and sunshine, that the land promised on Leith will deliver them from the hell they current endure. It’s those people who shout the loudest when the official announcement confirms the rumor. The Accords have been repealed. (Week V, Day III) At first, protestors gather in small, grumbling groups, little more than angry drunks. But as more and more people take to the Meshwork, the wrath of the few awakens the desperation of the many, and over the course of the night, the peaceful protest swells into an unruly riot. Workers strike, but without any legal protection, they swiftly find themselves rebuked by unemployment. Now with nothing to lose and everything to gain, the riots expand, filling the streets of Old Town with anger and tension. Company personnel become popular targets, and within the next day, all travel permits to and from Westerley are temporarily revoked. The moon closes its docks in an attempt to smother the flames of the rebellion. What starts as a movement for change shifts into a violent cataclysm, homes and businesses burned down, families torn apart by dissent within and outside of themselves. The Company seems content to let Old Town destroy itself, to let them “get it out of their system”, but all too soon that stance changes as well. With the death of a distant cousin of the Derrish, Company orders shift. Lethal force is authorized, and all too eagerly, used. Once the death toll begins to climb, the protests decline. The riots soften, though they do not disappear outright. Company and Westie optimists take to podiums in a desperate attempt to bid their fellow compatriots once more into peace. But something else awakens in the fires of those riots. Something far more dangerous than the chaos of anger: something controlled, methodical. They call themselves Hyperion, and they are the new faces of the Resistance.

True Leithians: Rested Laurels

For this faction, the time to scatter is nigh. Their work is complete: the Accords are no more, and the militant leaders order the reintegration of their soldiers into civilian life. Leith’s rightful owners retain the precious land that was once threatened, and although their methods were extreme, they are justified by the end result. But while the True Leithians see this as only a rested pause in their work, their benefactors—those who provided the resource and information that allowed their wicked deeds to see fruition—see this time as the closing of a chapter. Loose ends that might later lead to Qreshi officials or even potentially the Nine themselves are dealt with severely and harshly, albeit quietly. Several prominent figures of Leith’s highest echelon of society simply disappear, and curiously, those around them don’t seem to remember that they were ever there in the first place. Their benefactors are not the only group that would see the True Leithians burn. Among the first wave of missions delegated beneath the Resistance is the assassination of known True Leithian sympathizers. Unlike the Company, the members of Hyperion are ordered to perform their tasks loudly, to send a message written in the blood of the True Leithians. The citizens of Westerley will no longer be the gutless pawns of the Quad. They will strike back, and they will uncover the source of the True Leithian’s funding and information. If the True Leithians thought themselves ruthless, they’ll soon learn a new measure of savagery when Hyperion converges on their trail.

Leith: Olive Branch

The atmosphere of Leith is one of both hope and mourning. Recovery on Leith proceeds more efficiently than that on Westerley, their infrastructure and resources better able to accommodate those that were felled in the P43X attack. But although agency has the streets of Leith cleaner and the surfaces shining, the spirit of the moon itself suffers a devastating blow in the wake of the attack, the people of Leith unprepared and unseasoned to deal with the psychological ramifications of so much death. But they are not yet hardened by the experience, drawing together in the spirit of cooperation to restore not just the physical aspects of their homes, but the mental fortitude of their people. Charity drives and galas proceed in extravagant fashion, as if by the display of their assets they might rebel against the somber circumstances on which they’re hosted. For most on Leith, the fall of the Accords arrives as welcomed news, the citizens of the moon long since opposed to sharing their land with those of Westerley. But although the sense of satisfaction with the ends is high, there’s also an undercurrent of regret for the means which provided it. Unlike the True Leithians, most of the citizens of Leith are not radical or extreme, and they offer their sympathies—but only their sympathies—to those Westies in their midst. News of the riots results in tighter security around the Westies still stationed on the moon, and for the days that the violent storm on Westerley builds, Leith in turn becomes markedly quieter and more conscientious. Moderates come together over the Meshwork and propose a Peace Summit, a meeting of both delegation and charity, once the riots and dangers of traveling have passed. The summit is sanctioned by Leithian officials, as well as the allocation of surplus resources to aid their sister moon in her recovery. While many citizens of Leith eagerly await the news of lands once lost to their families for the Accords, many more donate their time and hands as part of the newly created Good Will Corps, a coalition of both political pundits and regular people devoted to strengthening the connection between the moons rather than sowing division. Volunteers—and some individuals who are voluntold, join the Good Will Corps on a trip to Old Town where the Peace Summit is scheduled (Week VI, Day III), lending their time, their labor, and their technology as a gesture of good faith. But whether or not that’s sufficient to see the Peace Summit garner any steps towards system stability is another matter altogether.

Resistance: Sacred Grove

The people of the Quad barely have time to remove the packaging from their new PDDs before a new voice of dissent begins to worm its way down the feed. Encrypted messages, quick flashes of imagery begin appearing at random on open networks and closed channels alike, pitting the harsh realities of the suffering, suffocating Westerley against the excess and decadence on display by both Leithians and the Nine, showcasing the disparity in the starkest of lights. All of it aimed at one purpose, to spread one solemn truth: the branches of the Mother Tree are burning… and the Nine seem to be holding the matches. The name whispered, the one goading dissent, echoes through the Quad - Hyperion - followed slowly with the murmur of hope. Of an intellect so profound that not even the Nine themselves will be able to stop it. With an artful ease, this new force begins to reach out, to commandeer the discordant efforts of the Resistance and reforge it into something stronger, faster. Deadlier. It starts with a select few receiving instructions directing them to safe houses already stocked with equipment and supplies, each with tech tailored to that cell's purpose and loaded with dossiers far too complete to have been compiled by the average citizen. Some of the background information appears to come directly from the records of the Company, or the Nine themselves, while still more from planets outside the Quad. Some even hint at records long since sealed by the RAC. Nothing points to one faction over another. Nothing reveals the how or why this Hyperion has decided to play these particular cards now, but one thing is quite clear. There's a deep laid plan being set into motion, and neither the Company or the Nine will see it coming. All these leaders have to do is gather their forces...

The RAC: New Grade

The citizens of the Quad were not the only ones affected by the P43X - the upper ranks of the RAC's field agents is notably thinner - and with tensions shifting yet again between the moons, they cannot afford to be ill-prepared and understaffed. In order to bolster their ranks, the decision comes down the pipe of a new assessment system: Peer Evaluations. Many of those that have been in their current ranks - those between Levels I - III - will be eligible to receive a two-part assessment of their capabilities to operate efficiently at the next level through successful completion of live warrants. These field evaluations can be conducted by any Level IV agent and turned into Central Command for compilation and rank change approval. Unlike the lower level agents, Level IV assessments will still be conducted by RAC's Central Command, once all of the subordinate assessments have been completed and processed. These agents should take note - part of their own evaluations for Level V will be the efficiency with which they're able to evaluate those below them. During this time, warrants will still flow in and agents sent to answer - especially once the travel bans go into effect on Westerley, as those agents alone bearing active warrants will be able to enter and leave the atmosphere, though their docking point will be limited to the Prisoner Intake facilities.

Comments

[uncrownings]

Noctis. [It's not about spirit and they both know that- but Noctis recognizes the olive branch for what it is. Time is a luxury no one has, and he isn't proud enough (or stupid enough) to turn down the offer when it comes. The physical relief is immediate, the man's weight buoyed between them, and Noctis can feel his spine straightening with the ability to take his first real, deep breath in what's felt like hours.

Navigating the crowd will be no easy feat, but life on Westerley was never about being easy- he doesn't need to come from Old Town to know that. His experiences here have all been second hand, the freedom his work allows makes him part-time tourist at best, but there's no space for shying around. He doesn't know this person- doesn't know what's behind the visor any more than he can make a guess at his intentions. It's a lot of hoping for the best.]

If you know where some medics are I'm all ears. [A pair of protesters shove by on his left, leaving Noctis with an elbow to the ribs and a momentarily winded pause.] Otherwise we're heading to a bar.

[uncrownings]

[His weight shifts from one foot to the other. At his hip, Noctis' sword thuds against his side.

Joy is the last thing he expected to be trading in, but maybe he should have. It'd mean a little flexibility for the future. Instead of answering, he counters.]

I'll give you fifty and a favor, no questions asked.

[ofobedience]

[The sound of her cry, it does things to him, unsteady shivers that pulse through the Spine and push him ever onward towards greater heights of violence. It's the only thing that registers for him now, the scent of blood, the cries of terror, the wet rip of flesh as the arrow goes in and it's good and he wants it yes he does.

Left open, a moment of weakness, and he capitalises on that opportunity as any predator would, moving in fast as he springs yet again, meaning to bring her to the ground.]

[fledges]

[Kate goes down, but the pain grounds her, gives her enough foresight to pull an arrow from her quiver at the last second. It's another one of those wicked ones, this one made by Jack. As she falls, she tries to drive it into the side of his neck like a dagger, but her aim is thrown off enough by the fall that there's no way to tell if it will strike home or miss completely. If it does hit flesh, it's meant to dig in and extend razor sharp barbs—to tear chunks out, as Jack put it. She doesn't have time to pay attention to whether or not she's actually hit him, because she strikes the ground and the air is knocked painfully from her lungs, all in a rush.]

[iuramentum]

[ Rank B Charisma in action tbh
Saber doesn't budge even as his firearms rise, the only reaction being a tensing of her arms, a certain laser-like focus on Gio's face.

It's hard to tell exactly what happens first when he fires: the shower of sparks as the bullets get swatted aside - one, two, snap, snap - or the fact she's simply not placidly standing in place anymore. Quite the contrary; Saber hurtles forward in several strides clearly beyond the physical means of a regular woman her size.

And here Gio faces his first conundrum. Clearly she's wielding something with both hands that distorts the air around it, but the exact shape and dimensions are so indistinct that it's difficult to tell how far her reach extends. A baton, perhaps? Maybe even a staff?

Either way, the command in her voice is mirrored by the authority in her eyes as she brings her weapon up in a wide, sweeping slash; a silent demand as natural to her as breathing.

You. Will. Yield. ]

[kirkwalled]

[ Hawke's been here for a while before Hijikata arrived and it's not exactly for honorable reasons -- she wanted to take a nap first and it'd be easier to do so while preparing. The nap ended up prioritizing the preparation and so, as Hijikata arrives, Hawke considers informing him they're a bit low on ammo. And guns. And... well, everything.

(This isn't even her ship -- it's a friend of a friend's.)

She decides not to when she catches his expression and instead smiles cheerily as he joins her on the bridge. They have full gas, at least. That's good enough for her. ]

Oh, skimmed. Capture, no kill, ship named Elbow? Simple work, really.

[ A shrug as she starts the ship up to send them off, already at least putting their destination in. Look, she can remember that much at least. ]

[valr]

[While Royce is struggling with the internal dilemma of not being a dick, Kara opens up her fridge to check if there's anything edible in there, and eventually comes out with a plate of cold pizza.

Which she's going to eat like that, because she's an animal.]

Free of charge. Joy or favors.

[Kara often trades in favors rather than cold hard cash, but right now she's willing to just do it to help out an almost-friend.]

[inksplashes]

[ So basically never going to happen?? Alas, his life of crime..

Paranoid to a fault (though it's a saving grace in his line of work), Lavi isn't as quick to lower his weapon, sighting down its length as he traces every glinting surface in the wreckage.

Nothing else stirs, so once the dust and detritus has settled, he nods faintly, grinning over his shoulder before resuming their otherwise careless banter.

(It doesn't matter if they're walking into a trap, they have to keep moving forward through it anyway.)

Down the next tunnel then, gun gripped firmly but trigger finger loose. ]

Nailkins? Nailpuff? Nailwol?

Nailwol.

[iuramentum]

Directing foot traffic away from the riots is priority.

[ She speaks while surveying the crowd, mentally weighing their options. ]

How well do you know this area?

[brokeassgoing]

[he cocks a brow. what is WITH this guy. he's more than unnerved, more than irritated--]

You're acting like you know me which you don't so why don't you chill out. And fuck off.

[ofobedience]

[It's a narrow thing, but he twists to the side even as he comes down on top of her, the arrow missing his target as he straddles her waist, pins her down with the weight of his body. He barks out a rough and brutal laugh and as he leans in close he's panting, chest rising and falling in quick little starts but it's not from exertion no, not from the previous pain that's already gone out of him, gone up in smoke along with his wounds-- it's all visceral animal excitement, the desire to riptearmaim, to kill.

It won't be painless, it won't be quick.

His hands find her ribs and they press down, meaning to break them, one by exquisite one.]

[brokeassgoing]

[Is Badou truly not paranoid enough? Careful? Does he really think no one would bother to come through all that rubble? Or does he trust Lavi to be a good human shield? The world may never know thankfully.

He scoffs loudly, the sound hollow in his own ears.]

Why are you so, so shitty at this? They really got talentless killkoys out there.

[fledges]

[It isn't like Kate hasn't taken a beating before. It isn't even as though she's never had broken ribs before, but Giovanni presses down, and Kate can feel the pressure breaking her ribs slowly, and it's excruciating. She tries not to scream, tries not to give him the satisfaction, but a desperate, strangled sound tears out of her anyway.

The adrenaline is kicking in now, and it's what gives her the energy to force her hands up, trying to hook her thumbs into his eye sockets and press down. Even if she doesn't do any damage, maybe he'll pull back and give her a chance to get free.]

[slotted]

[ leo HAS NO TIME FOR YOU ]

I prefer brandy with mint. [ WELL, HE ASKED. then he clears his throat. ]

We have peppermint.

[digophelia]

[ While Alice showed the briefest moments of confidence and talking with a new-found bravado, she finds herself slipping. If only in thought.

They're rippling far enough that even a hermit can hear them.

That is enough to make her feel incredibly guilty that she's always reluctant to go far from the areas she knows. With a breath, Alice tries to recollect herself from that brief pause. ]

Indeed, I have. I have plans to attend one, you see, here on Leith. They've announced a gala and the Peace Summit.

[ofobedience]

[The sound she makes, the brighthard vibrations of her breaking bones as they travel through his fingers and wrists and up up up into the dark centre of him-- it's a wonderful thing. It makes him laugh (and laugh and laugh) red eyes empty of anything but a fast ascending animal glee and even as her hands snatch out for his face, it doesn't stop.

Instead, he moves to grab her by the wrists, pull back just like she wants him to, but he still has a hold of her as he stands, makes to swing her up and hurl her across the blood-smeared ground.]

[inksplashes]

I'll take it.

[ If the vapors rising from the glass are any indication, the liquid within might well make a good antiseptic in a pinch. Sipping from the glass, he tilts it slightly in wordless thanks, savoring the surprisingly smooth texture of the rum as it traces a line of fire through him.

(He notices her wince, smiling a little to himself for it. It's cute, and in this moment, he's in dire need of things to endear him to the human species.) ]

It always does.

[ Lavi can't quite drain the bitterness from his voice when he says this, though he gives it his best effort. It's probably, objectively, fortuitous that war is finally coming to the Quad--with its beginning and, he expects, quick end, he'll be able to move onto his next assignment.

A new name. An empty heart.

An easier life. ]

It's only going to get worse from here, you know. Might not be a bad idea to head back to Leith when you can.

[ Lavi knows she won't. He anticipates she might even hate him for suggesting it, but someone has to. While she's devoting herself to saving this blighted moon, who's going to devote themselves to doing the same for her? ]

[fledges]

[He strong and so, so fast, but Kate knows that if he gets a good enough blow in, she's dead. He lifts her up easily enough, considering how light she is, but she swings her legs out, tries to lift them up to wrap them around his waist. She needs to get distance between them somehow in a way that doesn't involve being thrown against the concrete, but considering the way she's clinging to him now, that doesn't seem like an easy feat.]

[fledges]

[She doesn't hate him for it, but she does shoot him a withering look.]

I can't leave. I have to help.

[But she knows why he suggested it. The thought of the people she loves being in the line of fire is terrifying, and that's part of the reason she needs to stay. Besides, she can't bring herself to be angry at him, because she finds herself wondering how many times he's been through this before, and she's reaching for his hand before she can think about it.]

That isn't very neutral of you, Lavi.

[It isn't accusatory. It's soft, almost grateful. She needs him right now, and he's here for her, despite whatever role he's been forced into.]

[ofobedience]

[Her legs around his waist brings them in body-close and it's enough to prevent him from tossing her yes but now she's here, pressed against him, the copperhot scent of blood pouring off him in deep red waves. And he'll work with this, yes he will, doesn't seem put off or perturbed, doesn't seem anything other than rabid and savage and filled with an endless propensity for brutality.

His arms go around her, then, pull her in close in a sick parody of affection, and she might catch sight of his razoredged teeth before he tries sinking them into the meat of her shoulder.]

[digophelia]

Hiding from guard duty?

[ When he said that he had guard duty, all Alice could think of is Lavi looking after some important Leithians -- maybe even true Leithians. Wherever they were.

Just as Alice is about ready to lean down. and pick up the boxes, a comment catches her off guard. "Long hair like a witch". Right there, Alice turns back up, her face flushed. ]

Long white hair?

[ She puffs, leaning down to gather up the boxes to buy her some time. ]

You're referring to Sion Astal. [ She doesn't need any other descriptions regarding Sion. Alice had plenty of mixed feelings over him, between anger and gratefulness. ]

I would say that you're welcome to, however, he has a way of finding you. I would advise you not to hold your breath. As idiotic as he is, he is a persistent man.

[digophelia]

[ Alice heaves a heavy sigh. She was hoping to be able to finally approach others hear and see what she can do. ]

I suppose it won't hurt for a little bit.

[ Since mingling is definitely not an option, for now. There are other women her age here, laughing and in intense discussions and Alice is trying to hide behind all of the crowds, unable to tolerate such a crowded space. ]

It's very kind of you; I can't say anyone I've seen so far has been friendly. I, ah, I suppose I'll follow you.

[ But are many of these older Leithians ever friendly? ]

[inksplashes]

[ He's reminded of that day in the tunnels, of watching her gently brush away hair from unseeing eyes, tending to the sick and the razed with little concern for herself. She's always reaching out, he thinks, even when she gets hurt for it.

So this time, he reaches back, meeting her in the middle, long palm gently enveloping hers. A squeeze, as of a heartbeat, and he means to let her go with this, but he doesn't.

He's so damn tired of letting go. ]

No, it really isn't.

[ A shrug before he downs another sip of the rum, a trace of self-loathing in the low laughter that follows the swallow. ]

But there are some people the future needs more than history does.

[ Some people he needs more than the Bookman does. ]

And I think you're one of them, Kate Bishop.

[fledges]

[Something twists in Kate's chest, and she takes a shaky breath in. For all her bravado and confidence, feigned or genuine, she feels like she hasn't been doing anything now that things are getting serious. She doesn't know where to start, doesn't know how best to help, and there's a constant, dull longing she can't pinpoint for something, for someone, although she can't name them. She grips Lavi's hand as if it's a lifeline, her gaze dropping down to the bar for a second as she struggles to come up with a response. When she finally manages it, her voice is very, very soft, something unusually vulnerable in it.]

It needs you, too. I need you.

[lotusmesenpai]

[Fortunately for Kate, rather than a mouthful of flesh, an inhumanly strong hand reaches forward, knifes right in between those jagged edges hard enough to bruise the corners of a normal human's mouth - the other hand pressing the cool muzzle of a pistol right in the center of the Dog's forehead.]

Fucking mutt. A woman isn't a damned chew toy.

[Dimly, he's aware of the serrated edges of those teeth shredding the back of his hand, his palm, but it doesn't matter. Instead, he doesn't hesitate - just pulls the trigger.

He'd used the highest stun setting possible, just shy of a lethal current. More than enough to knock someone with his own - or Giovanni's ability to heal - right on their ass.

So no sooner does the blast hit Giovanni before the pistol is hastily holstered, Kanda's now free hand snapping back out to cut between the two, to anchor the woman back against him, so that she doesn't get taken down with Giovanni.]