Chapter 4

[thenine]

Who: OTA
Where: Quad
When: Week VI, Day VII - Week IX, Day I
Summary: Chapter 4 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
Leith
Resistance
The RAC

The Nine: Ballroom Politics

Delle Seyah Kendry herself has sent a message to all with Qreshi citizenship. She calls them to a gathering of her own inception, a gala for the affluent few to spend a leisurely three days adrift in orbit. The invitation includes the ship's parameters, sure to comfort or entice any member of the nobility with expected and lavish accommodations, as well as a personal note of interest. It's been too long since everyone was together to discuss their pursuits, their thoughts, their projects… Invitations sent to: Crowley, Rhys, Sui Feng, Hanzo, Hanbei, & Royce On the surface, the event is a extravagant social soiree, but the undercurrent is clear. With the Peace Summit concluded, it's time to find an actual solution to the unrest in the streets. What house Kendry seeks is a move that benefits all members of the Nine, something that solidifies their position and ensures more years of prosperity. House Simms agrees, their pandering to the powerful Kendry family only intensifying. While there are some - perhaps land Hyponia - who disagree, their voices are hushed, few willing to lose life or estate for the common man. The cruiser hosting the event has three levels. The highest houses an opulently decorated hall, repurposed throughout the day for banquets, entertainment, and mingling. Only the finest food and hokk will be served, and those attending may also sample delicacies from the reaches of the J as they converse. As days drift into nights the lights will dim, long dining table replaced with smaller stands on which the elite can amuse themselves with the newest tech, including a gambling interface. The middle floor houses personal rooms, each containing a king sized bed with too many pillows, a walk in shower, a full kitchen, a stocked minibar, and a fully equipped entertainment room. Communication between rooms has been installed as full-scale holograms, and a mere voice command activates all tech within. The lower deck, housing the bridge of the ship and all workers’ quarters, is not advertised for visitation. Heirs and family heads alike will be in attendance, mingling through the ambling guests to speak with the most important, or the most concerning, individuals. Such a party would be woefully unenjoyable without proper security, and several warrants requesting RAC agent service have been placed. A high-paying position, any Killjoy who attends will need to dress formally and keep their gaze narrow. Some among the aristocracy may wish to speak with them - to ask for favors - but any conversations will be carried out with utmost secrecy. For the spaces warrants could not fill, Company enforcers have been summoned to bolster the event's protective forces. The higher within the Company, the less surreptitious one needs to be to chat with the Qreshi. However, having a distinguished Company pedigree doesn't guarantee any contact aside from being asked to dispose of something (or someone) for the good of the Nine.

The Company: Training Day

A divide has begun to form within Company ranks, and those at the top are loathe to see such cracks being driven into their foundation. Though the riots are growing more subdued, the lack of a 'unified' approach to street patrol has inspired action. Model Company officials will receive either a promotion or higher clearance for access to equipment. There is no mention of violence or brutality in the messages each receives to alert them of their bonus, the expectations of continued service acting as implicit reinforcement. Company officials who approached the malcontent populace with what have been officially labeled "high risk" methods - plainly stated, with mercy - will be notified of a different sort of reinforcement. Those who require acclimation training will be paired with an officer the Company can trust to exercise appropriately severe punishments, and sent to a volatile area. The location differs by assignment, but each has in common the hostility of its community. Spitting, jeering, and sudden attacks are to be expected by anyone wearing Company issued gear. All patrol, arrest, or recon missions in these areas will prove to be a battle against the Westie citizens who reside there. Not intending to lose members of their workforce, the Company does expect success and will not set any team up for deadly failure, but kindness on the part of any officers in the area will likely be met with suspicion or revulsion by the people, and possibly a report to upper by their partner. In a completely different sphere, officers who caused the Company figures of damage - or just a financial headache - will be assigned to stress training. The process is available to any employee, should they wish to opt in and kiss ass have something nice to put on their resume. A debriefing outlines that those participating in the training will board a vessel with a partner and be launched into orbit. The ship will have several interface and mechanical failures - all carefully monitored by the Company control below, of course - over the course of the simulation. Officers are required to land the ship despite these errors, and will be evaluated on their technique, teamwork, and attitude. Unbeknownst to all participants, the small ship will also contain three spider-type bots that will activate once in orbit and scatter over the framework of the vessel. They will trip alarms, project voices, and interface with the system to cut communication. The last any participant will hear from ground control is, "What's happening up there!?", an urgent final message sent before the true observation begins. Characters granted higher weapons clearance: Giovanni, Jack, Sui Feng, Hijikata, Hanzo, Juvia, Fenris Characters assigned acclimation training: Julius, Nyx, Shiro, Sion, Rhys Characters assigned stress training: Giovanni, Hijikata, Shiro Aside from the Company's inner workings, the world has not stopped spiraling deeper into chaos. Some enforcers may be requested as security at the Qreshi convocation, serving both abroad the actual pleasure ship and patrolling around it. Others may find their battle with the streets of Westerley dragging on as organized crime rises alongside the Resistance cells. Gangs threaten Company officials and average citizens alike, looting bars, sacking shops, and carrying out their own executions. Agree with the Company's blame of the Resistance, or see the gangs for the opportunists they are - either way, one thing is clear: The streets of Westerley are unsafe.

Westies: Karma Police

Cries for justice have distorted, shouts becoming incomprehensible as the dawn breaks on an otherwise calm Westerley morning. The riots that had become almost commonplace have dwindled, crowds thinning as the days drag on. Yet the violence that accompanied such frenzied backlash continues. It's not unusual to see a beaten and broken man lying motionless on the sidewalk as one makes their way throughout their day, bloodstains on the street coloring nearly every path through Old Town. The disenchanted have splintered. Some have returned to work, looking to keep their heads down and their necks safe from trouble. Some have taken a more subversive approach, fading into the shadows as the Resistance receives a new wave of sympathizers and participants. Some bask in the chaos, taking advantage of the upheaval to assert themselves, and their gangs, as a new authority on the street. Company enforcers remain pervasive, their patrols constant and their responses brutal, but they are no longer the only danger. Every abandoned safehouse, every street corner, and every back alley has become someone's territory. Lines drawn in the gravel are frequently contested, skirmishes between rival groups a common but insular backdrop to the violence teeming in the city. Though all gangs have different expectations, different eccentricities, they share a brash hatred for the Company. With growing frequency, establishments that serve Company officials will find themselves ransacked. Windows broken and goods stolen in the night, or the owner run out and beaten on the street, no venue can guarantee its safety without turning away those in Company attire. For some, even that is not enough. Speak too gently of the Company and one may find themselves labeled a sympathizer, subject to jeering or beating with little provocation. The question, How do you feel about the Company, asked by both enforcers and crime rings alike, is impossible to answer without earning at least one enemy.

Leith: Changing Winds

The winds of change howl across the Leithian landscape. The actions of the True Leithians have set events into motion that start to propel the usually relatively peaceful moon into the kind of unrest that's more common to its neighbors. As land reallocation continues, the upper classes of Leith start to resist the pull of charity. Where Leithians were content enough to provide aid to Westerley before, it's more difficult for that generosity to continue as their own coffers start to diminish. The relief efforts that the poorest of Westerley had relied on come nearly to a halt, because Leith is drawing away to protect themselves in the chaos. After all, chaos is starting to seep into Leith too. As donations slow, the Westerlen workers start to show their own unrest as their families and friends at home suffer for the slowed aid and the decreasing prospects of their own work. Leith's relationship with its Westie workers has always been tense, but it's never bubbled to the surface so much as this. The Resistance is quiet, but growing louder even on Leith. The market is often surrounded by workers striking, and Leith struggles to contain the protests. While a few unruly workers could be dealt with by a farm alone, hundreds of them forces those same farms to listen. Without their Westerlen labor, there's no one to tend to the farms and harvest the valuable crops that Leith provides to the Quad. The Leithian farmers may have to listen to the protests of their workers, but they wait, cutting off pay for those that refuse to work in a tactic to try and force them back to work. However, where some return to the farms reluctantly, it only makes the anger burn hotter for others. A massive field belonging to one of the biggest producers of Hokk in the Quad is torched, and the fire and smoke can be seen for miles. Ash falls on nearby towns like rain, and while the Qreshi fret over a shortage of their favorite Hokk, the people of Leith and Westerley both know that this is the start of something more dangerous on Leith. Rumor has it that the fires may have been started not by a Westie, but a rival Leithian, and with no one to conclusively blame, everyone bears the suspicion and distrust. Those disappearances that had effected only a select few associated with the True Leithians increase, but Leith itself doesn't complain too loudly. In the streets, Leithians seem oblivious or ignorant to what's coming, but they know. They only hope that so long as they pretend in public that everything is fine, maybe peace will return to their home.

Resistance: Power Vacuum

Hyperion becomes a whisper, a phantom looming in the background noise of discontent conversations and secrets kept. Some say it's a single person, a man of strong pedigree and polished cuticles, while others speak of a woman clothed in midnight black with a piercing stare that strikes through the heart of a man. Others yet suggest that it's not a person but many, a group of shadow puppeteers who offer direction.. but at what price? While rumors swirl and build into the myth of the Hyperion groups, rival factions rise to fill the empty spaces. For some, it's an ideological clash: whoever Hyperion is, they're too well-funded and connected to truly be of the people, too secretive and selective to warrant the trust of those who risk life and limb for sedition. For others--most, really--it's a matter of power hunger, groups forming and striking out to take control of the scattered members of the Resistance while the mysterious Hyperion remains an intangible figure. Unity, they say, in this time of division. They say it in town meetings and raids, in private conversations and public--albeit careful--demonstrations, using the cover of Westerley's rising gangs to cast shadow on their movements. As is often the case with politics, what they say and what they mean are quite different. While these different groups call for togetherness, they seek subordination and compliance to their respective ideas and goals going forward. Some call for violent uprisings, others aim for organized strikes and legislative pressure, and others still seek a peaceful but complete abolition of the current monarchy class. Each spreads their own propaganda in coded pamphlets and messages sent across the Meshwork, and though they agree on little, they are, indeed, unified on at least one common goal: The Nine must fall. In the meantime, though the focus of those outside of Hyperion's reach drifts, Hyperion teams continue to receive missions and intel, each cell working on a singular component for some great machination of change. Hyperion cites its compartmentalization as a means of protection--should one cell fall, the loss can be contained to those secrets and plans alone--but a closer look at each division's missions will offer a slightly more tarnished future than the one Hyperion claims to build. It's a war, even if the people on the streets don't realize they're fighting in it just yet, and in war... there are always acceptable losses. Collateral damage to be tallied and disregarded for the greater good. The Nine will fall, broken bone by broken bone.

The RAC: Level Grinding

As always, agents will have their hands full as the juggling jesters of the Quad's court, tasked with keeping the various factions served and satisfied with their contracted work. Between acting as guards for the Qreshi envoy, cleaning the streets of the detritus corpses left in the wake of the riots, and the monthly warrants, there's no shortage of work for the killjoy who's looking. And there's more killjoys than ever, at that. Following the lower level evaluations, a new score of Level 4 agents arrives on the scene, eligible--and potentially willing--to form new teams. With this advancement in rank comes new opportunities that span beyond the potential for awesome buddy-cop movies: higher level warrants that pay better and offer increased access to otherwise off-the-books missions. Will you band with your graduating class to knit powerful units and make your mark on the J star cluster? Or do you prefer to remain the lone wolf figure in this otherwise disparate organization? Maybe you have you sights set higher than that. Maybe you want to go for the top tier of the RAC and make yourself a Level 5. While it's generally thought that only those agents who have proven themselves as Level 4s are afforded the opportunity to advance, it's not strictly a requirement. Whether that fourth notch in your killing belt is fresh or well-worn, the Level 5 evaluations are open season, but not unfettered. Indeed, while any Level 4 is elgible to try their hand at the highest ranks, those who hold the most tenure will have a far easier curve to ascend than their less experienced counterparts. Competition will be fierce and the opportunity for advancement strictly regulated based on not mere skill, but psychological stability and past performances. Any mark left in the records of an agent can and will become leverage against them when they enter Level 5 evaluations. The evaluations, at least, are similar in construction to the lower-level missions, albeit with far greater danger. The evaluating agent must carry out a Level 5 warrant--with his or her team, if applicable--but rather than having the guidance of a senior agent to shape their path, they'll be monitored and observed with real time telemetry from RAC HQ. The results will thereafter be analyzed by the RAC's top brass and released for viewing in Chapter 5. With competition fierce and the test itself a life or death scenario, agents will need to utilize any advantage they can in order to come out ahead. Cultivating their contacts and gathering the necessary resources isn't just a strong recommendation for these killjoys but an implicit requirement for a successful promotion. That's not the only unspoken requirement. Whispers begin to circulate throughout HQ that certain palms have opened for greasing and can facilitate a smoother evaluation for the right price. Open discussion of the rumors is strictly prohibited and strongly punished, but for the cunning and sly.. ...any attempt to bribe those palms will be met with an automatic failure and subsequent investigation into the killjoy's past endeavors. Those individuals rumored to offer grace in exchange for joy are among the RAC's most loyal and stalwart class of senior agents, purposefully placing themselves within the public eye in order to draw out the rats of the organization. The warrant is all.

Comments

crowley | simms

[eusford]

[ Crowley is beginning to remember why he hated socializing as much as he did four years ago. His direct family had placed a heavy burden on his shoulders to remain the picture perfect gentleman; looks like taking a four year hiatus from the rest of the world means you have to gather yourself back up, but his relatives treat him as if he had never even left despite many being completely unaware of his health condition. Which is why he's being offered Hokk left and right despite keeping a glass at hand to give off the appearance that he's drinking.

However he's perfectly sober--unfortunately, because if he could he would definitely appreciate being just a tad tipsy. It'd help blur the rest of the world and perhaps he could actually enjoy himself rather than spend most of his time appearing indifferent, looking over the heads of people he's speaking to and slowly blanking out.

His thoughts are crowded with topics that a Nine... perhaps shouldn't care for. Leith, Westerly, he wouldn't say that what he feels is empathy but it's obvious that he's falling into an area of grey. Unsure of whether to step left or right, standing and waiting to see what piques his interest first, lacking any sort of ambition. The thought alone makes him sigh with exhaustion. Doesn't help that he's dressed to impressed (pretend he's representing Simms colors lmao) and feels stuffy. Honestly he had been dreading this party the moment his maid walked in that morning to tell him he'd need to get suited.

Moving on:

a.) Perhaps you're someone trying to converse with this asshole and he's paying no attention at all, not-so-subtly looking somewhere else, and you're annoyed enough to grab his attention.

b.) Of course you could be someone that asks him to dance or he asks to dance, just so he doesn't die of boredom.

c.) You're acting as his guard and... honestly it'll just be a trip. Maybe he's handed another glass of Hokk and he's handing it to you so you can drink it.

d.) Or wildcard it because I'm down for anything!? ]

[ofobedience]

[He's here only as part of Sui-Feng's security detail, her vicious guard dog should anything go awry, but the fact that this isn't the kind of assignment he's accustomed to doesn't show in the easy lines of his body, his languid predatory grace. He's dressed to impress himself, and while the expensive suit Rhys had gifted him with is a far cry from the Cerberus Unit uniform he's more frequently seen in, there's a curious lack of discomfort in the way he moves, the way he stands. As though such attire is something he wears regularly rather than the anomaly that it actually is.

He's been told he needs to blend in, hence the suit, and yet there's still something suspiciously inhuman in the way he cuts through the shadows as he keeps a careful eye on Sui-Feng, something knifey in his movements that gives him away for what he really is. Just a weapon, a tool, not a person at all, and when he needs to slide by the man in Simms colours his eyes may be subserviently lowered but he still smiles his serrated smile. In the dim light, it reveals a flash of too-sharp teeth.]

Excuse me, Sir.

[He only means to move by, doesn't mean to impinge on your time.]

[eusford]

[ It's as easy to note odd behavior as it is to ignore it, and originally that's what Crowley is doing. He'll happily allow his thoughts to wander off while simultaneously nodding, at least giving off the appearance that he's intrigued by whatever conversation he was pulled into.

However it's difficult to fake it for long and soon enough he's looking for a reasonable excuse to get away. ]

Ah? [ There it is. ] Perfect timing, I was looking for you.

[ Even though he has no idea who this person is or what they're doing here. Apparently he doesn't belong to one of the families and that's just fine. He's not saying anything but his eyes read that he's requesting--demanding--that he play along. ]

[ofobedience]

[A bright moment of brief confusion that shows in the contours of his sharp-angled face, but Giovanni is nothing if not perceptive. Knows the look of command when he sees it. And perhaps this man isn't directly his responsibility tonight, but he's still a Nine, still positioned far above him, still technically owns him in as much as any of those who command the Company do.

And so quickly he nods as though this is entirely expected. Stands a little straighter.]

Yes. You wanted me, Sir?

[eusford]

[ Apparently his assumptions on this person are correct.

Crowley's features seem to brighten with the chance of escaping his current annoyance, absolutely rapt in the presence of the man before him. ]

Yes, I wanted a distraction. [ And he's clearly not out of ear shot from the group he was forced into conversation earlier but he could care less. ] And you just so happened to show up, isn't that convenient?

[ He begins to walk, lifting a hand and gesturing with both his index and middle finger. ]

Follow, there's not much to discuss but we can at least act like it.

[ofobedience]

No doubt.

[There's a moment of concern in him for the way this man speaks still within hearing distance of those he'd contrived to escape, but these people, Qreshi royalty, they can do whatever they want, can't they? It's of no concern to him, at least, not outside of his own role as something that protects and obeys.

And so he'll follow along as bidden at the crook of the other man's fingers, retaining the respectful two steps behind as he would with a Handler or his own superior, currently out on the dance floor and safe under Julius' watchful eye. He supposes he can spare a moment. Provided he doesn't stray too far.]

As you like it, then.

[eusford]

[ Anyone familiar of Crowley knows that he's an individual who speaks without restraint, almost inconsiderate of the people around him, and his calm expression only strengthens the fact. It's not like anyone cared much for what he had to say, anyway, not when he skillfully avoids the obvious question of where he had been the past four years. ]

Killjoy? [ He asks, continuing to look forward as he puts some space between them and the group. ] Or perhaps you're from the RAC? [ He didn't even get his name first but that doesn't quite matter, not when he's only looking to have that huge space of boredom that's formed in the back of his head to be filled--at least partially.

He only stops to turn quickly, holding out the drink he's yet to take a sip from. ]

What do you think about these sort of events?

[ofobedience]

[He continues to follow with perfect obedience, and if he sees anything strange in the lack of request for a name, it certainly doesn't show. Few bother using the one he's been given anyway-- he's accustomed to responding to whatever term of address people choose to level at him. Or choose not to, in this case.

Still. The questions come, and there's a brief moment of hesitation in him as he considers how much to say. Not everyone knows of his Unit's existence, and those who do - particularly on Qresh - can get a little jumpy around the idea of having a volatile bioweapon thrown into their midst. He doesn't want to worry the gentleman.

He pauses when the man turns. Smiles vaguely.]

I'm with a special branch of the Company, Sir. Security detail, tonight.

[As for the rest--]

And in truth, I'm not often in attendance at these kinds of events. They're not quite what I'm...ah, trained for.

[eusford]

[ perfect obedience... i see what you did there ]

A special branch? Wow~ [ There's only a vague hint of amusement in his tone. ] It must feel like an off day for you. Nothing really goes on at these parties unless someone makes a mess.

[ Which is unlikely. The Qreshi, living up to their royal appearances, do any sort of dirty work in the dark... but then again that could explain the heavy security. But who would be of any risk here? Possibly someone from land Hyponia?

Honestly he's somewhat hoping that this trip becomes an unfortunate game of Clue™. ]

I'm sure it's not... killing is probably a lot easier for you, isn't it? [ He isn't teasing. What leaves his mouth is an honest question that is only half-expectant of an answer, because he knows by now that people of the Company can only say so much--at least to strangers out in the public. ]

[ofobedience]

[To be honest, if Giovanni was aware of what an unfortunate game of Clue™ might entail, he'd probably be longing for it himself. Give him something to get his teeth into beyond all this impossible blankness. These kinds of events-- they're not really for things like him.

And so yes this feels almost like a day off, if only he'd ever had a day off to compare it to-- something indolent and easy but for all that laced with an enduring kind of boredom. He's a product of his conditioning, of his creation, and as such the lack of volatility here leaves him itching, antsy, restless.

Still-- the shape of that last question still surprises him a little, has his eerie red eyes widening just enough to show it, even as the rest of his face remains a bland and perfect mask. Carefully, he flashes the member of the Nine a smile, filled with those too-sharp teeth, the points of which can just about be discerned.]

I do what I'm ordered to, Sir. The specifics of my assignments don't matter all that much to me.

[Because of course he sidesteps the real answer, here. As the man has predicted, he's not about to reveal exactly what it is he does or what he was designed to be, not in a place like this. Again, he mistakenly believes it might make the man uneasy, even afraid.]

[eusford]

[ It's a vague answer he expects but doesn't appear disappointed upon hearing it. In fact, by an offhand chance that the other man is paying attention, Crowley's eyes seem to spark; childish curiosity. You can't really blame him after being locked up in a mansion for four years and his interest in many things in everyday Qreshi live began dwindling by the day. ]

You didn't say yes or no, I like your answer.

[ Gives him another second to imagine. He's not completely blind to the company, not when he knows Rin and Juvia, so while not aware of every detail he's got a little bit more knowledge than what's just shown on the surface.

He wonders briefly, how many? Was it done in cold blood? Was he trained to feel anything?

That's a good question, actually. ]

Did they train you to be so emotionless?

[ofobedience]

[He sees it there, or thinks he does, the little spark of interest. Unexpected, maybe, but then, these rich people-- they have a tendency towards the eccentric. At least, it's how it seems to him. Their wants and desires seem a distant, alien thing to him, nothing he can fully comprehend. Living the kinds of lives they do, able to do whatever they please, he finds it a hard thing to imagine. Doesn't especially want to.

He asks another question, and Giovanni's smile is a small sharp thing. Wonders how much he should be saying here, how much he ought to reveal. But this is a comparatively small thing, and he supposes he can be truthful with it.]

Yes, I suppose they did. Although perhaps emotionless isn't quite the right word.

[It's more that they conditioned him towards a love of violence, to relish it, to let it wash over him in clear sharp waves, push him towards animal joy.

But he feels other things, too. Things he isn't supposed to feel. A fact he intends to keep entirely to himself.]

[eusford]

[ Ask someone else and they probably wouldn't care this much. Crowley's curiosity is eccentric just a degree higher, perhaps, because what he wants to know is in the direction of how these products of the Company felt towards their creators. It would possibly lead to a brick wall considering it seems many of these individuals have been conditioned into the refined machines they are today. ]

And are you proud of yourself?

[ Conversations with strangers shouldn't be this deep... yikes. ]

If you were given the chance, would you live the same life twice?

c !!!!!!

[lacuscular]

[ She never actually thought he was going to take her to one of these parties. She thought he was just joking with her like he always does (she thinks, she hopes those comments about mercy killing her are just jokes) even about wearing his family color. Even if the only reason this is happening is because it's her job for the duration of this trip.... aaaahh!! ]

Crowley?

[ Ohhh, she actually misses Rin. She wishes he could be here with the two of them-- or with her, because she feels he would definitely understand her feeling of being overwhelmed. Juvia just feels so out of place that all she can do is grab at the glass he hands her with a iron grip. She thinks she hears a small crack in the glass, but she ignores it in favor of trying to calm her nerves. ]

Just tell them you already have a glass.

[eusford]

[ He's indifferent about Rin not being here only because he's brought him to something close to a special occasion already. The end results were surprisingly successful and unexpected, and he predicts that returning to an event similar wouldn't be on the top of the younger's priority list. ]

They're drunk. [ He counters, placing the glass to a passing waiter. ] They all are, I can hardly even smell a hint of cologne or perfume because of all the Hokk.

[lacuscular]

Then let them keep it.

[ She looks up to him, swishing the liquid in the glass idly. She wouldn't be as adamant about it if she didn't think it would benefit him. Or her. Both of them at this point. If they didn't originally pick it up, it's not their problem to begin with! ]

Crowley doesn't usually drink at these events?

[eusford]

If I don't grab it before they let go then it'll get all over the floor.

[ And on his shoes, which are also very expensive and he has no plans on replacing them any time soon. ]

I don't drink at all, I've had my fill already so I quit. [ A lie, ultimately, but that's not for her to worry about. ] But you'll drink for me, no?

[lacuscular]

[ That....doesn't sound like much of a problem for Juvia, actually. She's about to open her mouth and say something before he quickly answers her own questions, and her lips clamp shut. ]

No. [ She quietly shudders, remembering the last time she got plastered. ] Juvia cannot function with this in her system.

I'll be returning this to the waiters, if that's OK?

[eusford]

[ It's probably best, anyway, if a member of the Company ended up getting wasted on the job—accompanied by a Qreshi or not she'd certainly get in trouble. ]

So you're a lightweight? That's pretty cute.

[ It's not malicious, he even expected as much. ]

But not being able to drink is pretty boring, isn't it? [ Before, when he could, being just slightly buzzed to where he's still fully conscious of his decisions was what made these parties bearable. ] Should we dance?

[lacuscular]

[ Cute?????????? ]

Y-Yes.. Juvia is on the job, anyhow. [ STOOOOPP she's embarrassed!!!!! It's not her fault she gets emotional when she's drunk?? The inner panic is all too present on her face even as he continues to speak. ]

Dance? [ When she comes to, she owlishly blinks at him. Dance? Oh! ] Let me take care of the drinks first, then. I don't want to spill anything on your clothes.

[eusford]

Yeah, you'd get into some deep shit if you actually misbehaved.

[ And he's not familiar with the possible punishments that the Company enacts when one of their employees messes up. ]

Alright. [ Handing her his drink, he's careful that she has a firm grip on it befoe letting go. ] Thanks.

[ this is probably the first time he thanked anyone in game holy shit ]

[lacuscular]

Usually, that is what happens.. Especially since the Company is becoming more strict lately.

[ Currently, Company members who weren't forceful enough with the riots (a dumb idea!! violence doesn't help) are being subjected to that very same """"deep shit"""". She looks off to the side, chewing at her lip. ]

You're welcome. [ And she grabs his drink, dutifully heads off to get rid of it. It takes her no less than a minute to come back empty handed. ] Alright.

Juvia is sorry if she steps on your shoes.

[eusford]

[ It's her body language that sends him silent signals that his suggestion wasn't too far off the mark. Nothing to be proud of, but it helps him continue to paint the Company in a different picture. ]

Don't apologize until you've actually done it. [ He holds out his hand. ] And if you're that sorry you'll clean them.

[lacuscular]

Oh my. [ She can't even be bothered to say he has a point because she's too focused on the last sentence. Clean??? If she's sorry clean, clean his shoes???

She should be more inclined to destroy this situation with how romantic it could be, not how freaky it could get. ]

Juvia is.. [ She takes his hand once she shakes the fog of that 10 second endeavor (that's right, 10 seconds of standing there with bug eyes at Crowley). ] Juvia is fine with that.

[eusford]

[ It's meant to be freaky. At least freaky in the way Juvia would enjoy it and Crowley would just focus on the fact that his shoes are being cleaned. Yeah.

More importantly he's questioning if he might have killed her because she's been frozen for ten seconds. Ten whole seconds of just staring. ]

Right.

[ Taking her hand, guiding her to the dance floor with the sort of gracefulness he would treat any other person (so surprisingly gentle and considerate, to anyone familiar). Turning to her once they've made it to an empty space, bringing Juvia closer before placing a hand to her waist. ]

Don't do it on purpose now.