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

[lotusmesenpai]

[He watches her, his expression still that of a frigid rage until he finally sees her. How weak she is just then, legs barely keeping her upright.

Cursing to himself, he holsters the firearm and takes the sword in his now free hand, slides it into the scabbard between them - and then steps in and, with one swift move, slides an arm behind her knees, lifts Lapis up with a scowl.]

Don't argue, idiot.

[Time to get her into the dubious safety of her home, so he can check those wounds properly. ]

[refactor]

[ There is definitely no doubts whatsoever that someone is here. After all, when Bucky walks into the bunker, there's the immediate sound of... music? Though there's also parts of it that aren't music, like the sound of metal hitting metal and Jack yelling. At least it's not terribly loud, or not so loud to be heard outside of the bunker... ]

You stupid! [ bang ] PIECE! [ clang ] OF CRAP!

[ Aaaand crash, and the music cuts off abruptly. A pretty large robot gets kicked out of a side area that Jack seems to have made "his" area. It's a workbench with various parts on it that are all technical, and at the moment, for building a robot. What he's just kicked out is about as tall as his waist, and it's garishly yellow, but at least not playing dubstep anymore. Jack himself is looking a bit disheveled, with his usually perfect hair out of place, glasses, and even a cigarette tucked behind his ear. It seems like he's going for "engineer chic" today.

But of course, as soon as Bucky enters, Jack looks up sharply at first, but then just sighs out in exaggerated agony before dragging his hands across his face. ]

God, I— I wish you had? Hooooooly crap, this is a piece of junk. Why- Why did I think this was a bright idea? All it does is friggin'— That!

[ He gestures towards it angrily, but then pulls the cigarette from behind his ear before digging in his pockets for the lighter. After that outburst, he definitely needs a smoke. ]

[eggplanting]

And the Nine don't have the resources to figure it out?

[It feels like they wanted to take the easy way out, strike down the Accords because it was what they wanted in the end, anyway. It doesn't matter to them that people's lives are effected.]

Was there proof, a trial? Isn't that how this shit is supposed to work?

[rhygret]

Wait...seriously? [ Either Rhys has never been here or he really is that unobservant. He's really hoping it's the first there for the look he's getting right now. ]

[rhygret]

Oh right--right, Sorry. [ Rhys is grinning from ear to ear and he waves a hand in faint apology, but it's obvious that he's not like. Super-sorry or anything, that's now how them being dorks generally works. He is more than ready to get onto lunch though, and he nods to her. ]

After you? I don't...actually know where the closest one is. I usually only go out for fish on Qresh.

[ofobedience]

[This time he does give the man a sly-eyed look, brow slightly lifted, wry amusement visible in the angles of his face, though again he doesn't challenge his superior's prejudice directly. Instead, he just barks out a laugh.]

One of my main Handlers is situated on Leith, so I'm there quite often, and failing that, they fly me in specifically for you. But look at it this way-- if you owned a small army of bioweapons with a propensity for wanton destruction - which, technically speaking, you do - where would you want to house them? On Qresh, amidst the nobility? In a nice neighbourhood on Leith? Or here, on Westerley, where if we all got out and decided to run amok, the only people who would suffer for it are the ones the Quad value least?

it's a living.

[tirejacked]

Who, me?

[Well. No, but also...yes, if you're going to get all technical. Only a little. In his defense, he didn't follow her very far. A wiry woman throws a punch in his direction, and he catches it, twisting her wrist back and driving a knee into her gut. She stumbles back, gasping.]

I'm beating the crap out of a bunch of knuckleheads because I could use the cardio.

[I mean, don't you think he'd be a little sneakier if he was pulling any stalker bullshit? Give him a little credit.]

What about you?

[eggplanting]

[She can absolutely tell that he's not sorry, but considering she isn't either, the whole thing doesn't matter that much.]

It's not far.

[And with that, she leads him to a little restaurant that, as she said, isn't all that far from Company HQ, the interior set up with small booths rather than the train system at a lot of other sushi places. But that's why Steph chose the place, and when the hostess asks them where they'd like to sit, she picks a booth away from other customers.

Rhys can roll an insight check to see if he puts two and two together about That Thing She Wanted To Talk About.]

get busy punching or get busy dying

[eggplanting]

[Downside to this little interlude: Steph is kind of out of practice with the whole fighting thing and holding a conversation is tricky while also trying to avoid getting punched in the face.

Upside is that she's actually kind of curious to see how Jason handles himself.]

What about me as in am I following you or as in why am I here?

[Just to clarify!!

And once she's got that question out she focuses most of her attention back on the guy who swung at her, ducking past a second punch to hit him hard in the sternum with the butt of her palm. When he wheezes and bends over, she moves in close to hook her leg around the back of his knee and knock him onto his back.

She doesn't really care that much about winning, this is about figuring out what her body knows how to do, so she's taking her time with it.]

[rhygret]

After the last few days? trust me, this is paradise, [ Rhys supplies wryly, tone just a bit thin and strained even as he makes an attempt at humour. If it falls flat he doesn't really care at this point, but he tries to at least appear a little grateful (he's a lot grateful, actually, just exhausted) so he doesn't offend their only chance at getting Lavi proper medical attention. ]

We're lucky you came when you did.

[rhygret]

[ Any looks of surprise Rhys could have at seeing Takasugi again have already been made, so at this point he only offers a wry sort of half-smile, leaned over on his elbows in a resigned sort of manner. ]

Don't think it'll help much. Everyone pretty much hates me in there? I mean, I'm a Kendry. I may as well have signed the cancellation of the Accords myself. It doesn't matter to them that not all of us are exactly happy about the way things have turned out for us either.

[ofobedience]

[A little of both, perhaps-- the strength to punch straight though muscle and bone with nothing more than his own bodily energy combined with a mania that's swiftly overtaking him, threatening to spill out and over and into something more, something worse.

He misses, and she brings down her sword, and swiftly he darts away again before leveling the pistol that remains in his right hand, pulls the trigger. Aiming for her head.]

[ofobedience]

[Giovanni listens with quiet and attentive obedience, taking in the instruction his superior has to give. It's a funny thing, he thinks, repurposing a tool of destruction for something almost soft, for the task of mending. And when he looks into Sion's face again there's something there beneath the cool and impassive exterior, something almost (almost) unsure. Trepidation begins to seep into him and all through the elegant lines of his body because this kind of thing, it isn't what he does. Isn't what he's meant for.

All it takes is the wrong application of force and he'd make the situation worse rather than better.

This level of self-restraint, the careful application of strength into something the other man describes as a 'stretch' rather than power or force-- it's unknown to him, something different, and because of that, something to be almost afraid of.]

My own body.

[There's a wry twist to his words as he says them, a double-edged sword-- his body is hardly comparable to that of an unaltered human, of something human at all (so he thinks), not with how it restitches and heals itself, all wounds righting themselves with the swift-burning kinetic energy his 'kind' have been imbued with. And more than that, the implication there that his body is something he owns, rather than something crafted by other (six-fingered) hands, a tool to be used, belonging always to those above him.

But there's no wry smile or sardonic expression to go with the sentiment, no-- instead there's a look of fiercely-focused concentration, mind temporarily re-routed only for this task. Even here, like this, doing something so unaccustomed for him, his aim is to please.

To do the very best he can.

And so when the other man finishes his deft ministrations, when the subtle flex and movement of his hands falls still, Giovanni begins to pull. To stretch, as Sion had framed it, and he holds fast even as the child begins to cry out from the ache of it, keeps going with unaccustomed gentleness until he feels the broken bones begin to realign.

Again, his eyes go to his superior's face, seeking out reassurance.]

[ofobedience]

[Oh eww that's his brother you're talking about. Though as it happens the wording doesn't phase him, only has him spitting out another sharp edged laugh, and he pulls up on Badou's arm a little tighter. A little harder. Hands grasping tight enough to bruise.]

Or perhaps your broken body can send the message for me.

[rhygret]

Well...no one's tried to shoot me yet, so that's good. Jury's still out on whether or not anyone will actually listen to what I'm saying. You'd think they'd be a little more enthusiastic that I'm trying to come up with a way for them to actually live on this moon without all the toxic fumes.

[ This is Rhys, Trying To Be Chill about the fact that things are very much not chill right now, and he probably shouldn't go anywhere without an escort.

That said...things are going better than he thought they'd be, which probably isn't saying much. But Rhys has decided to be baselessly optimistic about things as he squares his shoulders and rolls them in a faux-confident shrug. ]

Let's just hope a few of them actually bite.

[rhygret]

I...don't know, honestly. It's not like we don't have the man power? And to be honest a lot of shady stuff goes one between the Nine Families. I knew a girl--a Simms once? Not sure what happened but one day she was the Heir in line and the next no one was talking about her. It was like she never even existed.

It's possible they caught the people involved and got rid of them quietly.

[rhygret]

Oooh, I...hadn't thought about it like that. [ That sure is a sobering thought to entertain, and right on cue Rhys winds up rubbing the back of his neck. ] But what, I mean--they think you guys are just going to flip out for no reason o, or something? It's not like you're a bunch of criminals who need to be kept an eye on.

[ Honestly Rhys wouldn't think twice about buying some land of Giovanni on Leith. He's that rich, and that obtuse when it comes to the true gravity of Giovanni's circumstances. ]

[slotted]

Your lot wouldn't remember.

[ and by "your lot", he means all the rich people in leith. which... is almost everybody, actually. ]

Are you ordering?

[rhygret]

[ It's totally about The Super Charming Evening Out he took her on and maybe Steph has something to say about him taking her out for fun in nice clothes??????????????

Yes???? ]

Couldn't have picked a more lonely spot in the whole place, could you? [ CHARM + 10 ]

[ofobedience]

[But it's Giovanni's turn to look uncomfortable then, awkward almost, and his voice turns quiet as briefly he looks away. Eyes lowered to the ground.]

We've been known to.

[As he had done, during the riots, something snapping inside his head and leaving him beyond control until the moment Kanda had shot him on just shy of lethal settings, point blank. There's a short stretch of tense silence before he adds--]

I'm aware that you like to think of me as something almost similar to yourself, Mr Kendry. But the fact remains that I'm a weapon, not a man. One that sometimes goes off unpredictably if you drop it, so to speak. Hahah.

[One have to buy Giovanni himself before they'd be able to give him land or any kind of freedom-- an inadvisable risk, and an expensive one at that.]

[rhygret]

Not something Giovanni, someone. Okay? I don't care what they want to call you, to me and Vaughn and Steph you're just like us. Ex...cept for the whole healing thing. That would actually be pretty handy to have.

[ He clears his throat a little not sure if he should reach out to touch his shoulder or what. ]

A-anyway, being good at fighting and killing and stuff doesn't make you not a man. I mean look at your! You're all...you've got--muscles, and...because--look, just. You're a dude okay?? No wait, you're better than a dude. You, Giovanni, are a bro. That's basically like the highest form of praise you can give someone.

[ Rhys literally says this like it's some grand honour he;s bestowed upon him, I'm so sorry. ]

[ofobedience]

[Except for the whole healing thing, and the fact that he can rip out a man's heart with nothing but his bare hand, and the fact that - sometimes - he kills indiscriminately and with such joyous abandon that he's unable to reign it in. But he doesn't want to dwell on it, not now, and for the moment he's caught between wanting to roll his eyes in frustration and duck his head in something almost (almost) approaching shyness because no matter how ridiculous the accolade, there's still the sentiment behind it.

The fact that Rhys thinks so highly of him-- it sets off bright sparks of gratitude in him, of overt gladness. It's a rare thing, to receive that level of acceptance and praise, no matter how strange the shape it takes.

Finally, the latter wins out, and just slightly, he dips his head. Smiles in a way that seems more genuine than the usual cold cutting expression he wears.]

Well. If you insist, Mr Kendry. Thank you for the appreciation.

[rhygret]

Come oooon, call me Rhys--I promise I won't tell anyone~ [ Rhys drawls that out like he's cooing at someone to be an ass, but in this case it's more like trying to coax an unfriendly cat over. Say his name, Giovanni. Especially: ]

Actually I'd uhh, appreciate it when I'm not at the Summit. Kendrys aren't exactly popular right now soooo...I kinda-sorta took off my sash. Going 'under the radar'. A-at least until people stop wanting us dead.

[ofobedience]

[He gives him a mildly incredulous look at the tone, though in all honesty he's accustomed to being patronised and spoken down to or not even directly addressed at all, just spoken about, as though he's incapable of understanding what the 'people' are discussing. This isn't like that, he knows. Just a part of Rhys' eccentricity.

Though it's the latter part of Rhys' statement that wins him over in the end-- the idea of someone wanting his superior dead, and the possibility of the use of his official title where others can hear it potentially leading to this outcome-- well. It's not something he's prepared to risk or take responsibility for. And so, for the first time since they've begun working together--]

All right, then. I understand. Rhys.

[rhygret]

Thanks. [ Rhys breathes a faint sigh of relief and flashes the man a look of gratitude. ] I know this sort of thing can get you in trouble, so you only have to do it for the Summit if I don't have my colours on okay?

But if you ever feel like calling me by my name after that is totally fine too, just saying. [ FINGER GUNS. It's as bizarre as you probably imagine, but it's a Hyperion Thing, and Rhys...

Rhys...? Pauses, mid-gesture and blinks a little as a very strange sense of deja vu overcomes him. He feels like he's done this before, seen other people do it too. Like it was some sort of...normal thing people did. But why did he just prescribe it as a "Hyperion thing"? He doesn't even know what a "Hyperion" is.

--Whatever. Rhys resolves to worry about it later and shakes his head a little, laughing it off quietly and running a hand through his hair. ]

...A-anyway, I appreciate it. Thanks.