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

[demonly]

I agree that a lotta Leithians just care about how they come off, not what they're actually doing...I don't feel the need to do that either, even as a Leithian too.

[ Part of that probably stems from the fact that he's not originally Leithian, but whatever. ]

Ya got a name? I'm Rin.

[ofobedience]

[There's that brief flashing moment of gold on red and at first it holds, before Giovanni's gaze lowers in what is a mark of respect yes but also - perhaps - a small denial. One way or another there will always be the leash, and if left with a 'choice' there'll be violence and pain in the place of healing, hands that break instead of bend, teeth that rip and tear.

Or at least, so he thinks.

As such, there's the vaguest twinge of his lips by way of response, a continuation of the wry drawl that had been present in his voice, though for now he makes no verbal rebuff or overt denial. The choice is never really his. It always comes from above and even when it begins inside himself his thoughts can hardly be said to be his own, so deeply steeped are they in the toxic waters of his 'upbringing'. The conditioning that permeates right down to the marrow of his bones.

(And yes, to be without such things, to be cut loose and adrift from the steadying pressure of someone else's control-- it frightens him, fills him with a cold hard kind of dread.)

These are the shape of his thoughts, at least, and when Sion gives him permission to release the thin leg of the quietly sobbing child, he does so readily. Hands falling loose at his sides, still and passive now as sleeping birds.]

There's no need to thank me. It's my duty to do as I'm bidden, Sir.

[A small reminder that he is what he is, a tool in someone else's hands, not a person with choices at all but a thing to be used as his superiors see fit. A quiet denial of what Sion is trying to instill in him.

Regardless, the lesson in healing, in self-control, will remain. For later use, perhaps. Who's to say, in this moment.

He moves to take his position two steps behind the Company man, then. Nods just once. Where Sion goes, he will go. Of course.]

And as you like it, then.

[ofobedience]

[He only continues to regard the Company man with that same, slightly strained, expression, caught between the roiling violence inside of himself and that slim slither of something that isn't quite concern. Confusion, maybe, or perhaps the weight of duty pressing in, the conditioning that fills him up-- Fenris is Company, and as such is owed his unquestioning loyalty. That's what this is. What he tells himself.

But then the question comes, and just briefly Giovanni's hand strays up towards the cruel band of metal punched down through his flesh and into the bones of the Spine, fingers running lightly across its cool surface before dropping away again. The confusion in his face-- infinitesimally, it intensifies.]

Yes. Part of my augmentations. As far as I'm aware, it's impossible to remove it.

[Without killing him, at any rate.]

[oneirism]

[Lapis is content to work in silence, humming softly as she finishes cooking the omelette. Luckily this doesn't take too long, so once the tea is done, food is ready to be served.

It... actually comes out alright. A bit lopsided, and the edges are a bit too crispy, but it's not a completely terrible attempt.]

Okay, I'm done too. Let's see, let's see... [Okay cut it in half... And place each half onto a plate without mushing it. With the food successfully made and plated, she gives an almost victorious smile.]

Done! I didn't do too badly, I think.

[oneirism]

[As they walk closer to her building, the pain of the injuries and the realization of what just happened settles in, now that the adrenaline is wearing off. It hurts to even breathe right now, and she has to force herself not to wince with every breath.

The tap of his chin against her head catches her attention, a welcome distraction from trying to steady herself against the pain. His words cause her to hesitate though, her hands tightening into fists as she bites on her lip. She can't... She can't hurt anyone, no matter what. Not after...

The memories swim through her head, the pain causing her to wince, raising a hand to rub at it.]

I... I just don't want to hurt anyone. [Not after she lost control before, not after she... It wasn't the explosion, no, it was something else...]

[oneirism]

[Shamisen? Edo? Two words she's unfamiliar with, and they'll be ones she looks into later. For now, her focus is on this conversation, tilting her head slightly as she glances over the case, before her eyes focus on him once more.]

Hmm... [Lapis mulls over that for a moment, before giving a slight shrug of her shoulder.]

Some of it was. Some of it was more interesting than anything. It was all valuable to hear, either way. [Always nice and handy to have some info against some bigwigs.]

What about you?

[tousei]

[ Really, as long as it's edible, he'll take it. ]

It looks good.

[ And since they're sharing, there is to be no protest. ]

Thank you.

[lefthandfree]

[Engineering, huh? Well, that definitely explains Jack’s handiness. And the...contraption on his face that’s...well, his face but clearly not at the same time. James pockets his lighter and follows Jack’s gaze with a short hum of consideration. Sounds fun to be able to tinker and make shit do things, even if it’s whatever failure Jack takes the noisy machine for. There’s a lot of potential there, and all the more reason a renaissance type like James knows better than to take his acquaintanceship with Jack for granted.

Taking in Jack’s response regarding the purpose of the robot, he lets out a quiet laugh. While he’s never quite been in the exact situation, he can sympathize, remembering times when he’d planned for one thing and lost control of the situation partway through only to end up dealing with something else entirely. Usually when he's hanging around with Hawke.]

Maybe it’s just your conscience’s way of trying to get you to let loose and have a little more fun. [It’s a dry remark, though it’s offered as if it could be a real solution.] God knows we could use some more of that, what with you and John not really getting along so great.

[Which is his subtle way of asking, “Yeah, so what's the story there, pal?” but Jack doesn’t have to answer to that tangent of course if he’d rather steer clear of it. Or if he misses the cue. Whichever. James won’t die without the information, but he’s proverbially dying of curiosity.]

[lefthandfree]

[James gives a boisterous laugh at that.]

Oh, buddy, I’m not crazy enough to lick a donkey even on my worst days. That’s the kind of thing you save for when you’re done being a responsible adult and don’t care if you wake up in a gutter next to your own puke. [And even as much as he’d personally had moments of sheer turmoil, he’d never been that self-destructive.]

Just seen it happen a lot. If that’s really what you plan on getting, then I don’t recommend more than a couple sips. But— [he raises his ale] —if you’re feeling adventurous, I certainly won’t stop ya.

[eusford]

I'll make it unexpected. [ He's speaking as if he didn't even hear what Rhys had asked; the last of his words dragging on with sing-song like tone, obviously continuing to tease him. ]

So then it'll be nice and exciting, you won't have to live a boring life and age like fruit.

[shikomizue]

[As Takasugi's glass grows warm in his grip he imagines the other's has turned to ice.]

If he's ill, he's made no indication. ['Radiation and stuff' amazing.] His vitals read as expected, in the very least. [Lavi is injured, that much is certain, but from what Takasugi has seen it's hardly life threatening.] Perhaps he simply doesn't trust us.

[What's not to trust????]

[shikomizue]

[With narrowing eyes Takasugi raises his hand to gesture subtly to a man who looks as if he's had too many.] That one owns a failing bar - he can't keep his employees for longer than a few months.

The man to his left, the one wearing blue, is a hobbyist who collects weapons from other planets in the J. [His smile grows.] Just for display, of course. [Not.

Takasugi leans back in his chair, hand falling to rest on the counter, his demonstration completed.] My work frequently brings me to venues of all persuasions. Some people leave an impression, some don't - I could write a contact list for you, but only a few have funds to spare.

[If Rhys wants aid in other areas, however...]

[digophelia]

Ah, well.

[ Not the most eloquent way to put it, she thinks. She quietly shuffles along finding it to be too impolite to point out that there wasn't any "crap" involved. Or how did he even define it? Just thinking about it too far made her head hurt.

Alice has spent most of her time here sorting and hadn't really paused to consider the amount that she's collected so far. When he asks her if it was all her work, she glances up, thinking it was a small collection. While it did help ease her stress and it was good for her to be preoccupied. ]

Me? [ Alice's hands remained paused as she prepared to go through another box. ] Oh, well, yes. No one else is gathering donations for children, except for me, I believe.

[digophelia]

A small one, it changes as I learn more and talk to others. These galas and Peace Summits are a good starting point to raise awareness for something else, something other than a temporary shelter. I wish to gather as many toys, clothing, and other things that children need and distribute them. I hope that it lets me find which area is the most devastated. Perhaps others may follow suit... after all, how can anyone say "no" to children? Not even the most snooty Leithians, it would reflect poorly on them.

[ And, tentatively... ]

And maybe someday, I can give them a new home and help facilitate a school or.... or even perhaps an orphanage and have others help me.

[shikomizue]

Aa- [He agrees with a vocalized breath, turning from the path he'd followed to greet her.]

I'll wait out front. Or would you like to meet me somewhere more public? [Her mistrust doesn't offend him - it's smart. Going with a stranger to another planet is risk enough.]

[shikomizue]

[Interesting is a rather safe word - it gives away attention paid without betraying the intent behind it. But even such a vague assessment can be valuable, illuminating dimly the girl's purpose.

She could appear bored, shrugging and slight shifts of focus wanting for the opportunity to participate.

Or she could simply have understood what he'd advised long before tonight.] I have little hope for anything coming of this. [He heaves his instrument onto his back with a sigh.] Well minded the ideas may be, everyone is competing over who will take the spotlight.

[rhygret]

You know I already live a nice and exciting life, right? This is me right now, living it--and I'd like to keep it that way!

Gods, seriously, you are the worst friend. [ I feel like this is a thing Crowley just does sometimes, and Rhys tries to roll with it when it happens. ]

[kirkwalled]

[ Have a long-suffering look, Kara. ]

It's just a body, she says. I fear for your standards, serah.

[ Hawke's killed very alarmingly high number of people over her years but it doesn't make dealing with the corpses any easier. It's not sympathy, never really is, because if they're dead -- there's most likely a reason for it. If it's by her hand, there's even more of a reason. The only time she's cried at a corpse was her mother's and she refuses to do so again.

Still, the disgust is everpresent. ]

-- Ah, yeah. Anyone who finds him there is most likely looking at that point.

[ So, she'll grab the legs. Two firm hands around his ankles and she's lifting when a thought occurs to her. ]

Oh, you don't think he defecated himself, do you? I'd rather not deal with corpse poo.

[valr]

We ain't taking his pants off.

[Kara isn't planning to find out whether he shit himself or not, but this is one of the actual gross parts, so she understands where Hawke is coming from.]

Want me to take that end?

[Just, you know, in case.]

[kirkwalled]

[ Seriously, you're going to kill her here, Kara. ]

Well, thanks. I'd rather not witness that.

[ And she hesitates for a moment at the offer because maybe -- perhaps? But no, she doubts he shit himself and if he has, hopefully they can get this done quick enough for it not to be a problem.

So, a shake of her head and she lifts up a bit more firmly. ]

No, let's go. Quick as you can, don't want to be caught with my hands red here.

[ This is definitely not something RAC approved, she's sure of it. ]

[tousei]

[ The mention of children gets a change out of him: more than just slight surprise, as it's a topic that touches his heart. He was raised in one - a laboratory disguised thinly as an orphanage, one that should definitely not be a model. ]

An orphanage... would be ideal, yes. I have an estate that is left mostly underutilized. If you need a venue, I can try to provide.

[ He's one man who is now the heir to a large piece of land. His aunt keeps it run, but they haven't spoken for years. ]

[eleutheron]

[ His lip curls. ]

These people are not innocent. They're murderous, vicious. Destructive. Whether you agree with the Company's methods or not, they must be reigned in.

[ The dog comment stings, but her fist is coming for him before he gets a chance to say anything more. Her knuckles crack against his cheek, and he stumbles back, shocked by the sudden force. Blood trickles down his lower lip, and he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his expression hardening.

So that's how it is.

He rushes towards her, impossibly fast, his circuitry aglow. He's aiming to sock her right in the gut. ]

[eleutheron]

[ He's mostly got himself in order now, though the hallucination still burns on the backs of his eyelids, like a dream stuck to the skin. He breathes evenly. Focuses on what's in front of him; what's real. ]

Mm.

[ Barbaric, he thinks. But not surprising. The Company is merciless; he knows that from his own circumstances. ]

It simply--reminded me of something. I think.

[ He shakes his head. ]

I apologize.

[kirkwalled]

[ Here it goes.

There's nothing for her to say after that -- only more barbed comments designed to hurt and she's hesitant to use them. She's provoked him already, is there any more need too flay the wound? It twists her gut to throw the words at him and while she's not sure why, it doesn't matter. She doesn't need to say anything else, not to him.

Instead, they're fighting and she takes the hit, feeling herself wobble but her bones and blood are too strong to let her go down. Her gut hurts though and she's going too feel that soreness for days, hissing out low in response and running on instinct now. She's a brawler, and there's a reason why -- when she fights, a sort of narrow eyed view makes her focus on her opponent.

When he pulls his arm back from the punch, she reaches out both hands to grab his biceps and reel him in, foreheads slamming together. She wants to get them on the ground, it's an easier fight there and she can use her body to pin him for her pummeling. She doesn't trust the circuitry and doesn't want to give him the chance to use it on her -- one slow move will cost her, even as she blinks back stars from the headbutt. ]

[moneyman]

A team, huh? [ there's that warm and fuzzy feeling again. ] Okay. I'll do whatever you need me to do. You name it and it's a done deal.

[ he pauses, and lowers his voice like he's about to tell Rhys a secret. ]

...Can I, like... do more than just financial stuff, though? You know, something different from what I do at work. I want to go places.