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

Corrin | ota + closed prompts

[affinities]

[Feel free to hit me up at synodic if you want to do anything, or just come at me.]

Itsuki | week 5

[affinities]

[It was supposed to be a relatively simple trip. Charity drives were a great start to helping out downtrodden Westies, but Corrin felt like he could find out what they really needed better if he saw it himself. Besides, if he had the means to help, the least he could do was see the state of things with his own eyes. It was probably a terrible to go, what with the Accords being repealed, but that's all the more reason to go. Besides, he can always cut his trip short should things get too heated.

Nothing ever seems to go quite the way it should on Westerly though, and, naturally, protests have quickly broken out. While he can handle himself in a fight, even he has enough sense to know that he isn't going to be the most welcome or even tolerated person right now. Sympathy from him is less than worthless in the face of what these people are going through.

Sympathy also isn't going to help with violence, which is extremely obvious when he ducks just in time to avoid a well-aimed bottle thrown at his head.]

That was close.

[Of course, now he has to look around to see if he can spot who threw it, but keeping an eye out so he doesn't actually get winged in the head with an improvised projectile is a good idea.]

Lavi | peace summit

[affinities]

[The Peace Summit is one of the better ideas Corrin has encountered recently. Provided, of course, that it goes well. He wants to believe that it will, though. Tensions will likely remain higher than normal for quite some time, but that doesn't mean that people can't work towards a peaceful resolution, and it certainly doesn't mean that they should turn their backs on each other at a time like this.

Things will simply be better for everyone if they're able to seriously work towards a solution, though who knows how long it will be until things have returned to... well, maybe not normal, but hopefully to being more stable. Isn't that the entire purpose of getting together like this?

In any event, he feels like he does better when he can speak one-on-one with people, and a gathering of this type is just the kind of place to do so. It doesn't have to be all business-- it probably should be, but sometimes Corrin just wants to see where a conversation goes without laying down expectations for it first. To that end, he decides to go for a conversation with someone he's never even met before.

The other man seems affable enough, after all.]

So... [He inclines his head, gesturing at the other people spread out around them.] How do you think it's going so far?

[inksplashes]

[ His official position at the Summit isn't one that invites a great deal of interaction. He's there to sweep rooms for security threats, watch for the shadows in hallways, and mind the sanctity of his would-be charge. Would be because his official capacity is auxiliary to his actual motivations and goals.

(The keeping of Sion has largely been handed off to Kanda, and he knows he can trust his partner to ward off any threats better than Lavi ever could. He's good in a fight, but he's not at Yu's level--he can't be.

He's only human.)

Lavi is here as an observer, a record keeper. Each conversation overheard and downright eavesdropped will be the future content of historical journals. No detail is spared; everything from the lights to the aromas of the various delegates and visitors is marked with sharp detail in the notes he takes at night.

And it's fairly easy: for the most part, the parties ignore his existence as an expected shadow on the walls. So when he sees the young man head in his direction, he takes notice on a precursory level, assuming he's standing near someone or something the other desires to speak with. Lavi flashes a ready smile, attention turning away and back to the mingling people around them without pause.

But it seems this one is not content to ignore his existence. Chin tilting slightly, his smile turns into a restrained grin as he reaches up to rub at his nape. ]

Uhh, I hear the chips are kind of stale. Couldn't really tell you otherwise.

[ He taps his arm where his RAC badge sits, glancing down at the gun in his thigh holster. ]

I'm just security. Sorry.

[affinities]

[Maybe it was a silly question to ask a RAC agent. Their concerns never seemed to extend beyond their warrants, so he should have known he would get that type of answer. Still, he imagines that it would have to get lonely, or boring, or both, to be treated as part of the background for as long as everyone is here. As much as he might have been expecting a non-committal reply, the comment about the stale chips catches him off guard. This could be one of the most important political gathering in recent history, and... the chips are stale.

It's such a random statement that Corrin doesn't quite know what to do with it. He stares, then breaks out into laughter. Quietly, of course-- there's no need to offend anyone with an inappropriate display of amusement. It is a crucial gathering, after all, and he wants to make a positive impression.

He smiles sheepishly, lifting one shoulder in an apologetic shrug.]

I'm sorry. I suppose that was a rather broad question.

[Now would probably be a good time to actually let the man do his job and leave him alone. Then again...]

So, stale chips, hm? Somehow, I doubt that will come up in too many discussions. [He pauses, looking thoughtful.] Perhaps after the truly important details have been ironed out, though.

[inksplashes]

[ Lavi's brow quirks in question at the laughter, but he receives it otherwise with a gracious, if mildly confused smile. Most of the people here don't have a laugh like that. When they laugh, it sounds like glass is crunching inside their throats, the sound scraped against bone and muscle.

It's a nice change, even if its endearing qualities last for bit a moment. He waves his hand to dismiss the apology--none needed!--and expects, indeed, that to be the end of the interaction.

This one is apparently a bit stubborn. The redhead considers his answer for a moment, rubbing at the back of his flame-colored head with a slight chuckle. ]

It's an unconscious signal. Says: you're not worth the extra resources, we aren't committed to this.

[ Ah, but that's a bit too observant and heavy for someone who's meant to merely play security, so he's back to waving his hand lightly, trying to brush off the line of thinking with a weak charade. ]

Somethin' like that, anyway! Dunno, heard some guys talking about it. They sounded preeeeetty mad. Think they wanted guacamole with it too.

[ Executive mod decision: guacamole exists in this verse. ]

[affinities]

[Honestly, who would have expected to be going on about the food being offered this much? But now that it's been mentioned, it makes Corrin wonder.

Sure, it may just be an oversight. That's the simplest explanation, and very likely true. However, it's not entirely out of the question that there's more to it. There usually is, he's learned, with these people. He's only been able to interact with them for a brief period of time, of course, but every interaction feels like it's full of cleverly veiled insults behind a thin veneer of politeness.

He's probably just reading too much into it. There's no guarantee that it means anything at all, and he feels like he's being unnecessarily harsh in his thoughts, when this was supposed to be about peace.]

Is that so? [He runs a hand through his hair, frowning slightly.]

I'll see that you and the others have fresher food too choose from-- well, the chips, at least, and extra guacamole. [That's not all the help he's going to offer others, not by a long shot, but even something like this might be important. A tiny step in fostering better feelings, however ridiculous it might seem.

He smiles, both at how silly he knows he sounds, and because he's hopeful that he might be able to cheer somebody up.] How does that sound, for a start?

[inksplashes]

[ Just who is this guy to 'see' to anything? Let alone to offer such services for the likes of him, the very embodiment of the agency which refuses to lend itself to political ideology?

His chin cants a little more, gaze sweeping up and down the young man with curiosity. This guy is either remarkably earnest or exceptionally manipulative.

In his experience, those traits aren't that mutually exclusive. Still, he rewards this display with a hearty grin and another breathy laugh, waving both hands this time. ]

Hey, no worries here. Like I said, I'm just security. We got our own chips, mercenary flavored and all!

Extra guacamole could definitely help foster peace, though. Good move.

[ Lavi dips his head down, hand coming up to his mouth as if to share a secret. ]

Throw in some salsa and I think you'll have a real resolution on your hands.

[ Condiments are clearly the answer to all conflicts. ]

[affinities]

'Just' security still means that you're allowed to have an opinion on food, surely.

[It was one thing to not want to step foot into political matters, but even the most devoted RAC agent was allowed to have feelings on something that simple, right? He can't imagine that there's anything in their rules about what you could and couldn't enjoy with chips.

He perks up when it seems something confidential is about to be discussed, then settles back with an amused look on his face. He really has been lucky to find someone with a good sense of humor.]

So that's the trick, is it? I'll be known far and wide as Corrin, the hero who brought everyone the kind of condiments they like.

[He bobs his head, shaking it a little ruefully.] What a start to my legend.

[inksplashes]

Now that's the kinda hero I could get behind.

[ He moves his hand as if to touch the other's shoulder before thinking better of it and drawing back, sheepish smile offered by way of apology. Ordinarily, Lavi is more than happy to sling his arm around a stranger's neck or give them a good pat on the back.. but maybe doing that to dignitaries at a tense-enough peace summit isn't the best idea.

Instead, he schools his expression into something passing for stoic and folds his arms over his chest (lest those overly familiar hands forget their place again), bowing his ember-shaded head.

(Basically, he's applying the WWYD philosophy. Yu would look very manly and very scary, all brooding silence and unfriendliness, and more importantly, super cool.

Lavi can't really pull off any of those qualities, but he gives it a good faith effort, smile taking a much more subdued quality than before.) ]

Corrin, huh? Nice to meetcha. I'm Lavi. I'll be sure to sign up for your fanclub when your legend spreads!

[affinities]

[The gesture catches him off guard, and he tilts his head for a few moments, trying to figure it out. His concept of propriety is admittedly still something that he needs to work on, but when he realizes that such a familiar gesture would likely have been interpreted as improper, he can only smile softly in acknowledgment.

He certainly wouldn't have been offended himself, but he appreciates that someone else is keeping proper behavior in mind. He stands up a bit straighter himself, in fact.]

It's nice to meet you as well, Lavi. You'll be one of the first members of that club, I'm sure.

[But wait, he has a sudden thought, and can't resist asking an honest question. He glances around, then lowers his voice, just in case.]

Although... are Killjoys even allowed to join fanclubs? Isn't that against the rules?

Kim | week 6

[affinities]

[Well, he honestly can't fault anyone for being angry, and protests and riots aren't exactly known for being peaceful and orderly. Still, it seems counterproductive to destroy property when it's just going to cost time and resources to repair it afterward. Corrin supposes it's just a natural result of being so frustrated and angry that lashing out seems to be the only thing that makes any difference.

And while he knows he isn't personally responsible for damaging storefronts or worse property destruction, that doesn't mean that he feels okay about just sitting back and letting the people of Westerly fend for themselves when it comes to trying to get back to normal.

Some of his offers of help to Westies that are clearly rebuilding have been rebuffed or outright turned down, which he can understand as well. He'll keep trying, of course.

For now, he simply sits down on a pile of debris, taking a brief moment to rest as he watches people diligently attempting to fix their various stores up.]

Vaughn | week 6

[affinities]

[Things seem to be looking up. He's hopeful about the outcome of the peace summit, and if everyone can continue getting along without any further incidents, life might be able to settle down for a lot of affected people.

Corrin knows that real, lasting peace isn't something that's going to happen with any real speed, but it does leave him feeling more optimistic than he has been. It's why, despite how tense things have felt lately, he's in a good enough mood to visit the bazaar.

There are always new things to see, which is even more truly now that so many people have been coming and going, especially with the travel restrictions recently lifted. In fact, Corrin isn't paying all that much attention to where he's going at all, so it's only a matter of time before he runs into someone, really.]

[moneyman]

[ the bazaar is a nice enough place. it's not that exciting, but it's lively and pretty and every once in awhile something at a stall catches his eye. usually something stupid. but it's okay, because despite making okay money and having a safety net in the form of a filthy rich best friend, he's frugal as hell and he rarely buys anything.

...except food. he's just leaving a cafe counter with a little bag of god-knows-what when he spots a familiar face—someone he hasn't seen since a misadventure on Westerley.

now, that was exciting. ]

—Oh, hey! Corrin!

[ beware: a tiny weirdo approaches. ]

[affinities]

[The novelty of freely wandering around and then running into someone he knows still hasn't quite worn off, so when he hears his name, Corrin stops in his tracks and looks around, quickly spotting Vaughn. Someone he knows and has an exciting story with all in one, how fortunate. He waves enthusiastically, making his way over to say hello a little better.]

Vaughn, hello! Imagine running into you here-- are you doing well? Not witnessing any crimes in progress this time, I hope?

[Now it's a tiny weirdo convention.]

[moneyman]

Not unless some of these prices count, am I right?

[ ha ha, get it, it's funny. he's funny. no, he clears his throat. that was stupid. ]

Uh, anyway, no, I've been staying out of trouble. [ mostly. ] How about you?

[affinities]

[Crimes... prices... hold please.

Oh, he gets it. The prices are ridiculously high. That's what happens when supply and demand run wild, and the merchants never seem to tire of charging as much as they could anyway.

He's never heard anyone complain about prices quite like that before, so Corrin chuckles despite how cheesy it sounded. He'll probably end up using that line on someone else sometime.]

I've been steering clear of trouble, too. [Except for ditching the servant he had come to the bazaar with because they kept fussing over him, but details.]

With all of the ah, stress everyone has been under, it isn't easy to find time to relax, but I'm happy to hear that you've been alright.

[He glances at the bag of mystery food Vaughn is carrying.] Were you about to eat? I didn't mean to interrupt.

[moneyman]

[ yeah, well, he's a pro at complaining about prices, even though he does fairly well for himself. feel free to steal his shitty jokes. better not tell him about the ditched servant, though. as a former servant himself, he might be a little distressed. ]

Yeah, definitely. You, too! What've you been up to?

[ ...oh, right. the bag. he looks a little sheepish. ] Oh, it's just, uh... something for later. Something I shouldn't be eating, for sure, but sometimes you just need a treat, you know?

[ spoilers: it's a pastry of some kind. possibly multiple. god help him. ]

[affinities]

[The less said about ditching people and being out on his own, the better, so he'll happily continue to leave that part of his day out of any conversation.]

Oh, you know, just seeing what's new around here lately. I had no idea they could import so many different things. [Not that... anybody cares about that but him, he's sure.

He's more interested in the fact that Vaughn seems a little embarrassed about his purchase.]

Oh! You're being sneaky with treats. I've done my fair share of eating snacks when I know better. I think there's something about them that just tastes better when you aren't supposed to have them.

[Your pastry sins are safe with him.]

[moneyman]

What? Sneaky? Nahhh... [ no, he's absolutely being sneaky. he could have lied, sure, but he's terrible at it, and he's pretty sure Corrin wouldn't judge him. they're friends, after all.

in fact... ]

Want one?

[affinities]

[Sometimes it feels like nobody ever lets him get away with silly, sneaky things like this, so Corrin is only to happy to take part.

He looks around, as though checking to make sure nobody is going to catch them, then nods, looking pleased.]

Absolutely, but only if you let me treat you to something equally unhealthy in the future. Deal?

[moneyman]

[ he has to laugh at that, already rolling open the top of the bag to pull out a wrapped mystery treat. sharing is caring. ]

Deal. Always.

[ he hands it over; it's some kind of creme-filled danish thing with icing on top. because why the fuck not, right? ]