2022-03-09: Cultural Diplomacy

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<Pose Tracker> Nanai Miguel has posed.

It would be much more pleasant to hold a meeting in Sweetwater's open-type section.

And it wouldn't be entirely impossible, either. Despite the enthusiastic purges of Zeon and Deikun supporters in years past and the (admittedly loose) Federation oversight, Nanai and her cadre have slipped back into the good graces of most of the civilians who matter. Many of the elders remained ensconced even after the Federation purges and it will take more than a failed rebellion to completely wipe out all the good that managed to be done before the bad.

At worst, those in the know who disapprove have been convinced into holding their words and letting the situation play out. There has thus far been no reason to sound alarm. So, it could happen.

Yet, that wouldn't be truthful. The closed-type section was the cradle of Char's newborn Neo Zeon. It was the punished dregs with which he found common cause. It is the bough to which the so-called Nanai Faction has come to rest -- a dispassionate name given by intelligence analysts in the classical style of Zeon schism groups. Just another loose terrorist cell. If only they knew.

There are less sentimental reasons that Dr. Sayla Mass was given her requested meeting at the closed-type section. Security, of course. But two are much more important: most of Nanai's people work in the area and must commute from their jobs, and there's better food here.

"The shipment is two days out and we can't push it anymore. We ran too hot last week and it would be suspicious."

"That's fine -- look, thank you again, Ms. Mesua. It would just be easier if..."

Nanai Miguel, or Mesta Mesua, stops outside a storefront advertised as one BLACK DRAGON CAFE. At this late hour in the colony's cycle, the narrow elecar street between the blocks has been converted into an outdoor dining area, lit by paper lanterns strewn across on wires. People are already gathering, but Nanai and the burly, mustached man to whom she speaks make no attempt to hide their talk.

"If we didn't have to hide," Nanai finishes. A humorless smile touches her lips, but after a beat she banishes the bitterness and chooses warmth. "Tell Abe our lesson is tomorrow morning."

The mustached man returns his newsie cap to his bald pate. "Early?"

"Early."

"Hah. Boy needs to get used to it, anyway. Goodnight, Ms. Mesua."

"Goodnight, Jode."

Nanai is left alone for a time. She lingers by the entrance, standing to the side so that the waitress can bus herself back and forth as she finishes setting up the outdoor tables. Her gaze travels across the stream of people, still sweating from the work they've finished, all come to unwind with what joys Sweetwater can offer.

Her expression fades to neutrality. She blends so well. Her slightly shabby coat -- or well-loved coat, depending on perspective -- her scuffed boots, her hair up in a worker's bun. Just another colonist.

If only, if only.

Finally, she turns and enters the restaurant.

The interior is cramped -- the building is more kitchen than tables. She raises her hand to one of the front-of-house workers behind the counter, and he nods as she passes to a door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY. A narrow hallway takes her to the back alley between this row of buildings and the next, where a long table has been set up for employee meals, mingling, and smoke breaks. Trash collection is at the end of the row, all the way down there, so it's not unpleasant.

Nanai rounds the table so that she can sit facing the entrance, and then swings one of her legs over the bench to take her seat. A sigh escapes her and she briefly brings her hands to her face, fingers slipping underneath her glasses to lightly touch her closed eyelids.


<Pose Tracker> Anser Vulpecula has posed.

The difficulty about the chosen time is that it truly is just as Anser is getting back from her job, which is such a vital part of her finances given their time in hiding that she can't even put it in airquotes. The 'Nanai Faction' has fallen on difficult financial realities, and everyone - from the cooks, to the engineering team, to the pilots all have some manner of bringing in money.

None of their skills have translated into an economic windfall in the less-than-opulent colony of Sweetwater, where the money flows like fine wine, which is to say, at a carefully rationed pace. It's no different for Anser, who's been leveraging her skillset fixing air recirculators, chillers, and delivering the errant package. It's safer than advertising her services as a Mobile Suit mechanic. Despite making the trip all the way out to Copernicus City to patch up Shelby's Jagd Doga, the young woman kept entirely to herself. Didn't even introduce herself to anyone. She arrived, she got the unit up and spaceworthy, and left as soon as the job was done, leaving no room for niceties.

Today, at least, was back to the routine. Ferrying some package from one Side to another, ensuring it got into the correct hands, and returning home. As a result, the diminutive young woman is still wearing her flight suit, which has seen better days. It's got several points of discoloration that look like grease and oil, and some patches are covering up the frayed edges. Inoffensive emblems. A stitched-on fox, smiling from ear to ear. Flair.

When she makes her final approach, Anser pauses and ducks her head in to look around before spying Nanai. Her posture straightens slightly, and she walks over to the table and seats herself a few chairs away from Nanai, leaving opportunities for guests to take more-favored positions. She understands the social dynamics of how these things work... on a fundamental level, at least.

"Di--" She clamps her mouth shut, and her lips twitch. They're in public, 'secure' or not. It forces her to course-correct and she all but grudgingly murmurs, "...Ms. Mesua. I trust everything's well?"

Her formal rigidity is something that rarely falters.


<Pose Tracker> Madelyne Embersteel has posed.

|| ONE HOUR AGO ||

"Now look we ain't got no fire or a cast iron pot, as you can see I've made due. Now given how scarce everything is out this way, SCRAPPLE is the perfect substitute. I mean how you gonna tell me that this here gray block of pork-parts saturated goodness ain't just the most appetizing thing you've seen this side of an illicit magazine? Now look I won't say it's one hundred and ten percent pork. Maybe like fifty, but don't you worry no nevermind about what I used for the rest and dig in!"

The crusade has begun, and as much as Maddie was sent in advance to make sure this place was secure, that only took a few minutes. Assuming she actually checked. (She did, promise). And the rest of the time? Preparing her famous Scrapple, cheese, and grits for the cook staff, made with scrapple she scrapped together herself in her time here on Sweetwater. And though the cooks look skeptical, each dutifully samples her creation before summarily banishing her from the kitchen.

||NOW||

"Well fine then, more for me!" She shouts in her exaggerated accent, one part Texas draw, one part Southern belle. Indeed, there is more for her, and as she finds the table sets her bowl of steaming scrap-gruel on the table she gives the space a long once-over as if to make sure it's still right and secure. Especially since Nanai is here. "I tried to talk them into letting me cook enough for everyone but that dog just wasn't gonna hunt. You want some, Naynay? This here bowl is big enough for two." She even holds up two forks, one both of which she pilfered only moments ago. "Oh.. and uh.. I didn't see any funny business while checkin' around, so barring someone kickin' in a door I think we're shiny."

Maddie winks in the direction of their fearless leader, and brandishes a grin meant to burn away the fatigue so clearly eating at her behind the eyes.


<Pose Tracker> Sayla Mass has posed.

Sayla is actually making an earnest attempt to be low profile this time, but it's frankly very difficult. As she was told last time she was here 'She's famous'. She's wearing an old coat, wrapped tightly, black trousers, a white business shirt, a brown hat that could be considered 'cowboy' style which may need explaining, and her trusty sunglasses.

When she arrives in the closed type section she's kind of thankful not to go near that mansion again. The crowded cafe seems almost pleasant compared to a place soaked with that presence. "...Black Dragon, huh?" She mutters, before walking up and in. It's tiny, obviously. Even for Colony life. Side 5 was heavily populated, but not this populated. And the first colony of Side 7 was positively open. Sweetwater, on the other hand, is overcrowded and messily joined. A sign of the Federation's callousness, and just the thing she had wanted to stop a decade ago.

That sure went well.

"We booked ahead, table for two." She says to the front of house staff, and she's pointed to the door. A very basic code phrase, but given who is giving it... Kind of obvious.

When waved through to the back, Sayla looks around the alley. This is secure, huh? It feels like it could be bugged, but Nanai's people haven't kept their heads down for this long to get caught. Still, she's vigilant. Hypervigilant, one might say. And her mental walls are up. Not everyone can manage that.

She takes a seat, expecting someone to take up next to her, across from Nanai. "Ms Mesua, good evening." She's still using the name she was given, until the all clear comes to not. It helps keep her emotions in check. But behind those walls, they are roiling.

For all Sayla's desire to be a good person... Nanai represents a lot of very rough things to her. But the alliance could use the people, and the Nanai Faction could use the support. On paper, it's a strong argument.


<Pose Tracker> Aleksandr Zhuravlev has posed.

It would be more pleasant to meet in the open-type section -- for some. Likely not for Aleksandr Zhuravlev. After the number of times he's been ambushed from the unguarded flank of an open 'sky,' the enclosed feeling of having a ceiling between him and empty space is more soothing than anything else. People who live their lives moving in the shadows eventually get to a point where they don't feel comfortable anywhere else.

And comfort is important to him, right now. This is the longest he has remained in one place for months, and he is still feeling out the full ramifications of his choice to stop here.

Sweetwater. It is not a place Shura has had occasion to come to in the past, despite his former profession. Where the Federation did not take interest save with overt force, he did not go. As such, his time here to date -- ever since a small strange group, led by a familiar woman, pulled him and Ava out of a bind -- has been spent in a studying survey of the area, the people who inhabit it, and the undercurrents which are not spoken of aloud.

Were it only him, he might have moved on by now. But it isn't only him. And besides... some men, despite their cynicism, will always look instinctively for causes.

Not that anything so high-minded is top of Shura's mind at the moment, as he leads Ava along the narrow street, weaving through the stream of people getting off of work. In some respects, he is as much a learner about these simple banalities of civilian life as she is. In others, he certainly remains more worldly; such as the absent way he prevents her, every several feet, from pilfering the bright paper lanterns hanging along their path.

That the appointed meeting location boasts only one ready entrance hidden behind a restaurant does not escape the operative. That Nanai sits facing said entrance is also noted. In a tacit but obvious good faith gesture, he uses the entrance with a disarming sort of obviousness. He seems to feel no need to interrupt the initial round of greetings, since things are probably still awkward from when he tried to fight everyone prior to realizing they were going to help.

He doesn't feel the need to sit, either, though that might be because the best position to stand in order to cover the entrance and any other conceivable points of access is not 'a chair.'


<Pose Tracker> Chibodee Crocket has posed.

Chibodee Crocket is welcome anywhere, or so he believes. He walks into the establishment, looks for a specific person, and gives them the sussy nod as he follows behind Sayla. The sussy nod is very important. Then Chibodee walks through the employees door, follows the alleyway, and arrives at the table. He takes his time walking in, hands open and lowered, so people can see he's not up to mischief.

But Chibodee is distracted. He can smell it. That sweet, sweet aroma. Chibodee closes his eyes and breathes in.

"Man," he says of the scrapple. "Smells like when my momma made it."

Chibodee moves to take a seat. "You know I only ever got scrapple on holidays. So I always think of it when I get a whiff."


<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.

When she's not defending Mao Industries' lunar sites from attack, Shelby Korts is often found in the kitchen of one restaurant or another, putting in the work of two or three: For all the negative sides that her abilities may have, her timing and spatial awareness are uncanny, and it lends itself to her being able to move like lightning around cookware.

When she arrives, it's with the same sort of conspiratorial nod and pass through, trying her best to feign Normal People things like small smiles or polite waves of her hand as she passes through and enjoys the assault on her senses borne of just being where she is most days of her week.

Shelby pauses once she's inside, looking at Shura with a usual sense of hesitation, then -- whatever Maddie has in front of her briefly draws her culinary ire, and Sayla, Chibodee, and Nanai, and then a brief pause when she sees Anser. Her eyes drift down and away, and then she starts to circle the tables to find a seat, clutching a travel mug in both hands and moving with the mixed haste and light step of a skittish mouse to sit down.

She slept (a little). Everything's fine.


<Pose Tracker> Ava has posed.

Ava spends her requsite time looking up. Like the consummate tourist whenever or however she may be, she arrests her pace and, in the middle of the street, takes it all in on her own time.

It probably takes Shura a few tries and a few more wealths of patience to keep her on course.

From the half-shadow of the pulled up hood on her sweater, she's all eyes on the way in, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of stimuli all around; what is sparse for most is intoxicating for her. She wants to see everything. She wants to touch everything. The paper lanterns, of course, are a particular curiousity, and she indulges a few moments in its texture on her hands, thin and gossamer and feather-soft. The light lets her see the veins in her palms.

Shura keeps her from taking one. This time, at least.

Ava deposits her hands to her pockets and follows, weaving consciously to avoid the paths of people, whether well-trained in mindfulness to keep out of others' way, or simply avoidant to have so much living, breathing flesh so close.

She makes her way through the restaurant. She is enthralled with the grain of the floorboards. Through the structure and out into the alley, she pulls back her hood slightly, and her grey eyes flick from face to face. Shura finds his place to stand, and Ava looks his way, as if practised to orient herself purely by his proximity. Trusting him to remain, she takes an emboldened sniff of the air.

"That scent," Ava infers of the scrapple. "It is abhorrent." A beat. "I am intrigued."


<Pose Tracker> Nanai Miguel has posed.

"As well as things ever are," Nanai answers Vulpecula. She lowers her hands and spares the other woman a faint smile. One of them has to show emotion, but even with this heavy burden Nanai can only muster up so much energy.

Fortunately, she's immediately rescued by Maddie charging in wildly scrappling about the place. Nanai involuntarily (plot secret: it's actually voluntary) leans away from the vessel o' scrapple.

"Oh. Thank you, Maddie, but I think I'll have tea first."

Again, Nanai declines to continue speaking. Perhaps it's a newtype intuition that someone else is about to enter, or perhaps it's a normal intuition that someone else is about to enter. It's that time, isn't it?

Her gaze shifts to the door as Sayla and Chibodee make their appearance. Nanai doesn't bother with standing to receive them -- it's not that kind of meeting, she's not that kind of person anymore -- but instead places her hands flat upon the table in a mutual disarming gesture.

A moment to look between them. Both are the kind of people you've seen pictures of on the net, even if Sayla is hiding it. Sayla is a somewhat known factor. The calculus plays out in her head about Chibodee.

The calculus is immediately discarded when Chibodee makes his first impression: Scrapple Liker. Nanai's attention ghosts silently to Maddie, a muted sense of wonder slightly parting her lips.

Is this, too, the power of a newtype?

Nanai forces herself back into the present. She can feel the pressure of Shelby approaching -- and, beyond her, the less-familiar weight of the girl named Ava. Both of them are wild, unrestrained presences, so unlike the experienced force she interprets from Sayla. Nanai bows her head, eyes half-lidding. Her mind goes back to that place, that time, that gentleness and wonder where she so often tethers herself--

and if she can be a tether for others--

The ocean. Light filtering through. Wrapped in currents. Surrounded, secure. Perfect sight. Perfect moment.

Nanai exhales. Even if the other newtypes don't accept -- or can't feel -- the vicarious sensation of peace, it helps steady her. She looks up, briefly locks eyes with Shura to give him a nod, and then turns her attention back to the emissaries from the Shuffle Alliance.

"Please, sit," she says, raising one of her tabled hands to gesture across from her. "The staff inside is our people. The food is nice, too."

A pause to not look at the scrapple. Don't look at it. Don't.

"I called in our best pilots, and people who I thought would benefit from meeting you. I'm sure you have questions for us."


<Pose Tracker> Anser Vulpecula has posed.

One quickly gets the rather distinct impression that although Anser understands the utility of these meet-and-greets on paper, she does a rather poor job of attending them. She gives a polite nod to everyone who arrives, but past that, she takes no great pains to introduce herself or give a cordial greeting. Maddie, who perpetually finds a way to crawl under the woman's defenses, is given a more tentative nod, as she stares at the...

...Food...

That she's brought along with her. Only the presence of company prevents her from commenting upon the smell. The... unique smell. To her delight, Ava does it for her. A momentary smile. Approval.

Shelby's arrival and that brief bit of sullen eye-contact is met with an owlish blink, but little else. If something transpired between the two of them, now is certainly not the time to lay it bare. It goes placidly uncommented upon.

Thus does Anser manage to be every bit as small a presence at the dinner table as she carries in height - at least, to start. Her stilted sense of formality doesn't lend itself well to these gatherings. She does reach over and tug a server's arm as he passes, pointing to a menu item. There's a brief, hushed exchange that leaves Anser scowling insistently, and the server appears to relent, going about retrieving whatever arcana Anser's sent him after. When the meeting begins in earnest, Anser Vulpecula's attention snaps forward, engaged on each speaker. Somehow, the young woman in her tattered flight suit looks like she's attending a boardroom meeting.


<Pose Tracker> Madelyne Embersteel has posed.

Really, no one should encourage Madelyne Embersteel. At all. It only leads to bad things, and the fact that her scrapple, while offensive to many, has become a kind of diplomatic beacon has her brows rising and her great wide brimmed hat hitting the table. Immediately she raises her singular bowl to reveal the second she had stacked below it, and with a somewhat loud grind of ceramic agains the table that bowl warbles once before being settled by the profoundly viscous delight she transfers over. Assured that Chibodee is going to get all the best bits, she jams the fork into the middle, a fork that stands straight up with how firm the mass of savory cornmeal, cheese, pig, and rat just happens to be. Then she slides it over to her New Best Friend, Chibodee.

"Well it's 'bout time someone around these parts appreciated both my /incongruity/ and my skills around a steel pot. Now I can already tell your momma had good taste, and passed it right along to you. Now dig in and enjoy just a small taste of home."

Ava speaks up about her creation, and she looks to Shura first, giving him the upnod of respect that she's given to anyone she's pointed a gun at and vice versa. She sure is glad it all worked out for the best, and though she has no special name for man, she has noticed how he looks after Ava like she's made of gold.

Finallly she looks to her bowl, and even though she said it was abhorrant, Maddie isn't one hundred percent certain what that word means, and so she leans into the second comment. "Well, alright then Nugget." She says, referring to Ava. "If you want to give it a try, you can have mine. I can always make more." She begins to scoot it in her direction, beaming now that at least two people seem to want to try her creation.

"The rest of ya'll don't know what you're missin' but if the kitchen is busy I have some more pocket rations, an-" She catches Nanai's sidelong look, brows lifting, then looks to Short Skorts, and Anser, and reigns in her tangent about rations, which would become a tangent about rats, and then the Federation, and then... yeah.

Best she just lean back and absorb the newly minted, scrapple flavored, diplomatic atmosphere.


<Pose Tracker> Sayla Mass has posed.

Well,so far, everyone's on the level. That's good, as first signs go. Sayla keeps her attention on Nanai, at first, but it passes around the table, past the scrapple, to get eyes on everyone here. Shelby she knows, the rest of them, however...

"Yes. If Miss Korts is any indicator, you're a capable group and I have no concerns about your combat abilities." That'snot the main concern. She's not going straight to the main concern. "And you willingness to work with us is appreciated, but I can't make that decision unilaterally." She swears in her mind. She should have stopped her decision.

"Chibodee is one of the public faces of our organization, and one of the people who sets the direction." Or should be. "That said, you might already have won him over." He seems far too well at ease, but... You need someone less cynical and closed than her. "So I wanted him to meet you as well." What's between the lines is pretty easy. Sayla wants to know what the people of the Nanai Faction are like. She has reason to be suspect of Zeon, even those who have walked away from the cause.

Still, she shifts tone slightly. "Did the supplies make it through? How long did they last?"


<Pose Tracker> Chibodee Crocket has posed.

Chibodee feels the room has a broadly good vibe. He is not psionically defiant and probably goes along with stuff a little too much. This is about as metaphorical as he gets unless you start giving him beers.

Chibodee glances over at Ava, squints skeptically at her, and leaves it at that. People who have worked with Chibodee long enough have started to get the shape of the deprivation he suffered for most of his life. Sweetwater looks like a well-to-do suburb to him.

Chibodee looks at Madelyne with real gratitude. "Oh ma'am you do not have to give me all the good stuff, it's not just to stack it all on one guy when you've got more to feed. It's too generous." Zero sarcasm detected. Chibodee's impulse is always to share good fortune. But he's also not dumb and if these others aren't going to eat the good stuff when it's HOT, that's on them.

Chibodee takes his chopsticks out from inside his jacket, lowers his head for a moment in silent prayer, and then lifts it back up. "Icki-mickey-mouse," he says, which Rain just lets him get away with *every* *single* *time* he says it because by God he really does mean it in his heart. Then Chibodee digs in.

"You put in the white crystals just like mom," he says, his mouth full. Chibodee is for-real enjoying the bowl. "This tastes like Christmas. Thank you so much."

Sayla throws to Chibodee. His mouth is full, but he puts down his chopsticks to give a little wave, indicating his area of general... influence? Chibodee never knows how to think about this stuff.


<Pose Tracker> Aleksandr Zhuravlev has posed.

I am intrigued, Ava says of the scrapple.

"I do not advise you eat it," Shura finally breaks his silence. He enunciates his syllables carefully in the way of a non-native speaker, his voice dipped in enough of a lingering Slavic accent to betray his origins. He pauses briefly, before -- with humor -- he allows, "If you must, wait until meeting is nearly over." The outcome will require privacy.

His green eyes move to Shelby at her hesitation. He seems understanding of the trepidation, given everything, and after a moment his gaze drops away to relieve some of the pressure of being watched. He seems familiar with handling such personalities -- sensitive, overaware -- and the reason why is perhaps obvious in the form of Ava at his side.

She looks to him. He nods almost imperceptibly back to her, before finally -- especially at Nanai's prompt and the arrival of her guests -- consenting to take a seat towards the far end of the table. He seems to expect Ava will sit near him, but on the side of him which keeps him between her and everyone else.

Anser's smile for Ava is noted. This elevates her in Shura's esteem. Maddie also receives a nod, in that way two people of similar background will share a certain unspoken understanding.

As the proceedings begin, however, Shura's attention returns to those closer to the head of the table. Nanai's gaze is briefly held, in a studying look that carries a certain amount of sardonic weight. Years ago he would had no business with Nanai Miguel except her termination. But ultimately, he never had to execute that order. That he is here now in this capacity... and with such company as she now invites?

Life takes strange turns.

There is a sense that he's appraising Sayla and Chibodee just as much as they are here to appraise the 'Nanai Faction.' That sense heightens as Sayla mentions her main concern is not their combat abilities. "Combat is all many of us know," he says, with the weight of a personally significant remark. "My interest is in futures where this is not true for so many. And so, I am relieved this is not your main concern." This is of course a tacit remark on the fact that there is a main concern.


<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.

Shelby does her best to push another polite smile at Ava, her fingers shifting and clinging to the travel cup a little more tightly. Tea-- decaf, don't worry-- is still nice and hot inside, and on occasion the pink-haired young woman is taking small sips.

It's nothing but small movements from her while Sayla praises her performance. It's earnest praise that gives her a little more confidence; shifting on her seat to sit with her back a little more straight. Even if things tend to be more informal with the team, meeting with allies ... she should be more proper, right?

"I just did what I could, that's all," the newtype says.

Sayla introduces Chibodee. One hand lifts in a small wave, trying to be friendly and as close to normal as she can bear to manage right about now. The smell of scrapple and grits makes it hard. Wait -- *white crystals*?! What is she putting in the food?!


<Pose Tracker> Madelyne Embersteel has posed.

"Now, I know you're just being polite, but where I'm 'bouts, the title of 'ma'am' is reserved for school lunch ladys and those who don't care to take a razor to their nethers to reign in their bikini line, of which there is a large overlap that I would call super-ma'ams, creatures of ungodly entitlement and vicious ire that we avoided like we'd stolen something from them. Which we often did. In any case, either ain't me, sweetpea. You can call me Maddie, which I reserve only for my friends. Which you now are. Now you go on and enjoy that, powder and all. That's the special ingredient." She winks. That's right, not the ground rat, or pig snout, and worse. The powder is the special ingredient. Best not dwell on where Maddie might find anonymous white powder here on Sweetwater.

"Hell I heard Short Skorts here did a bang up job, gave as well as she received, and I saw she received quite a few explosions or what seemed like. Not that Anser here had any trouble fixin' up the Jagged Dog none. An absolute miracle worker." She flashes her smile at Anser, so disarming, so.. absurd, and almost oblivious. Almost. %Whatever wave of calm Nanai is flooding the Newtype airwaves with, Maddie seems to have caught on and is has calmed herself a mite. She speaks up after Shura talks shop. "Right, well, I will second and third what my good friend here just said, and not just because I like your hat, Sayla. We're all eager to lend you a helpin' hand, and clearly Chickpea here," She means Chibodee. "-has great taste in /everything/, which means I know you're good people, at least as good as my dear friend Naynay. Now that that's settled." She sniffs once.

"Who can we riddle with holes for ya?"

Eventually everything comes back around to Maddie's expertise, which is basically in making scrapple and shooting things and people to high heaven.


<Pose Tracker> Ava has posed.

"We discussed this," Ava returns to Shura, matter-of-fact. She fishhooks him with a look out the corner of her eye. "You cannot extend me advisements without also providing supplementary data that can be measured and considered."

Data, for one, involves her taking a deep and significant look at said scrapple. Ava is immediately and utterly taken with it. "Oh, it's positively vile!" she declares, but without any derision. In fact, the only emotion infecting her face and voice is guileless wonder. "And one ingests this willingly? Without coercion? How novel!"

Her eyes move in bullet-quick flicks, absorbing information machine-like, be it an offensive foodstuff or the charitable Madelyne behind it all, who uses the word 'Nugget.' Ava is transparently confused in this particular usage, which may be in the context as a proper noun. Which may be in the context as applied on her own person. How is she a nugget? She tilts her head, bemused, until decidedly stowing that question for another time. There is too much going on.

Such as all these new faces. Chibodee is giving Ava a look. Ava looks right back, unguardedly interested. Her hands twine together at the small of her own back, an action that seems to altogether amplify just how young (late teens at best) and small (very) she is. Young, tiny, and just slightly left-of-socially-adjusted-center. Anser is also smiling. Ava is not sure why, though she's politely curious. Smiling was once a rare thing for her.

Such as all these unfamiliar psychic presences. Ava gives off her own, virulent and powerful and raw. However, she does not appear to be particularly moved -- at least visibly -- by all the Newtypes in congress. Perhaps it's both boon and curse of the Whispered, constantly suffering a psychic deluge, that one learns to simply... habitutate it, even ignore it, lest they sooner lose their mind.

But Nanai's psychic missive of peace cannot be missed. And Ava cannot help but turn spiritual eye its way. The next breath drags out of her, a little more slowly.

Perhaps it's that sense of peace that has her dutifully take Shura's side, though she feels compelled to sit crosslegged. "But I will get to consume the unknown substance?" she asks him in the background--

While noticing Shelby's strained, if genuine smile. Ava answers it with a direct stare, the way a mathematician would turn on a particularly enticing proof. One of those deep, unblinking, soul-breaching, this-is-awkward looks.


<Pose Tracker> Nanai Miguel has posed.

Nanai's attention is drawn by Sayla's commentary to the burgeoning friendship between Madelyne Embersteel and Chibodee Crocket. The leader in her sees how the pieces fit together. The scientist is still stuck on the white crystals. It's enough for equilibrium.

The threat of judgment from a Real Shuffle Alliancer fades into the scrapple-hued corner. In truth, Nanai had suspected a certain temperament from the Gundam fighters around whom this organization revolved. It has been fulfilled in a way both expected and not.

This leaves bigger problems. Nanai doesn't look back at Sayla immediately, no -- she glances down and to the side as if thinking, and then looks to Shura as the man speaks. It's from him that Nanai returns her attention to Sayla, drawing an invisible line between the two. It will not only be the Shuffle Alliance determining if they can work with her people, but also the reverse.

"Your supplies are gone now, but don't take that the wrong way. We have backlogs of projects: surgeries, constructions, repairs. You helped us clear much of that out here, where it was needed most. Thank you."

Nanai's eyes wander again. This time, considering both Ava and Shelby. No matter how disciplined she is, this many people at the same table means working numerous angles at once. Perhaps this too is something for Sayla to see -- the tawny-haired woman revealing the hidden connections with her green-eyed gaze. Ava and Shelby are loud, to say the least; though only one verbally so. (And even then, nowhere near Maddie's general everything.) Whatever point it is Nanai is making, something in her expression seems reassured.

"I think you have a canny insight to the political problem here, Dr. Mass. I think we should discuss that now. If you wouldn't mind asking the question, that is."


<Pose Tracker> Anser Vulpecula has posed.

Whatever Anser was expecting of this meeting, it's almost certain that she was hoping for a reprieve from the day-to-day eccentricities of her fellows in the Nanai Faction. Sayla finds herself on the receiving end of a respectful smile, and Chibodee is...

Chibodee is given a warm attempt. Anser's hand slowly lifts and settles on her forehead, a frequent gesture that she masks by pushing back her hair and letting it fall back into place. She doesn't quite sell the transition, but at least it's enough to keep within the margins of diplomacy.

More colorful characters.

Succor comes for Anser's sanity in the form of a tall glass of beer. Liquor's on the pricey side in Sweetwater. She leans forward and snaps it up. Apparently this is what she was debating with the server about. Whether or not she's old enough to have beer. Depressingly common problems for the short, that particular argument. She lets her posture loosen when it becomes clear that the pomp and circumstance have flown out the window along with the Icki-mickey-mice.

Leaning back in her seat, she takes a long several sips of beer and then turns her focus to Shura, giving the man a solemn nod of her head, "...Concisely stated, and a sentiment that I share. Many of us have already felt the sting of being treated as the means to an end, with combat as the only eventuality."

She flits her attention over to Maddie when a compliment flows her way, and her lips thin, her expression flattening. "...I'm glad to hear that you approve of the virtue of coffee, hard work, and twenty hours of electrical repairs, Embersteel. And I have no doubt that it was Kort's talents that kept the damages limited to what they were. A lesser pilot, and it would have been a total unit loss."

She doesn't take the 'miracle' bait. She doesn't take the 'miracle' bait. She also doesn't comment on Maddie immediately undercutting the sentiments that Shura and herself have just championed. Her eye twitches subtly.

She maintains her composure, takes a few more sips of tepid beer, and her eyes half-lid in relaxation that clearly has nothing to do with oceans or anything. Surely not. Just alcohol, and a more comfortable atmosphere than she counted on. With all the mental noise zipping about the vicinity, it's perhaps refreshing that she's all but a closed book. Minimal. Quiet. Chilly. Many descriptors work for Anser Vulpecula. 'Loud' is not often among them.

Often.


<Pose Tracker> Sayla Mass has posed.

Seeing them all interact, it doesn't seem like some force of brainwashed newtypes, or recruited soldiers. They seem to feel around each other, a group with some fractures but not enough to cause rifts. People who have floated together, and had to become cohesive.

It reminds her a bit of 17 years ago. It's strange to look back on wartime with fondness, but...

"...I understand. I will see if I can get another shipment through the foundation." That one she has control over. Shura's response is... hopeful. Maddie's a little less so. Still, she nods. "I'm glad we are of similar minds." Ava is focused on other things but... Anything seems interesting to her. That's a question for later. Anser, meanwhile seems the serious, controlled one. The one Sayla can relate to best. But this is all surface level.

And then Nanai asks her straight out, and she nods. Sayla hardens her walls. It's deliberate, and act of focus. "...Yes. Very well. The Shuffle Alliance is a loosely aligned group, rather than one cohesive force. This works both for and against us, but is the only way we work. Our core goal is a world without war, and making places in it for those who have only ever fought." Behind those walls, she can't help but have her feelings it's an impossible task. "I have ample evidence you've no fondness for the Sleeves, which is a point in your favour. And from what I can see, you're doing your best for Sweetwater."

Something is hammering against the walls, hard and vicious cold.

"So I want to know what your goals are. And how they relate to the remnants of the Principality." They all know which one she means. She doesn't say the name.

But one remnant in particular creeps out, for just a second or two, even as the crack in the wall is plastered over.

Despair, anger, confusion, loss all at once, intense and painful. And for those who can see it, a face.

It's Char. She wants to know if they'll continue what Char wanted.

The crack is sealed, and Sayla looks down. "My apologies."


<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.

"I-I was just lucky," Shelby tries to clarify, looking between Maddie and Anser. Her gaze lingers a little longer on the engineer, feeling for something that ... isn't there. Shelby's thoughts briefly turn to those smells again, but ... it's fine. It's just noise. Noise, like everyone else. And yes, Nanai -- something to see, indeed. Shelby's eyes focus on Ava for far too long. Were this any other person in Sweetwater, the pink-haired young woman would find herself in short order walking the other way, pushing things aside, or using any of the coping mechanisms and exercises that Nanai has taught her over the years to deal with the magnitude of what's going on inside her heart-- and her mind-- all the time.

Her fingers slip slightly tighter around the travel cup. She doesn't take another sip, but her eyes become slightly vacant behind her glasses, just *looking* at Ava, and while one side seems to be figuring out a complicated math equation, the other is...

... the feeling is not subtle, at least from Shelby's side of things, and it is pretty tough for her to keep her empathic cards to her chest. For some, it's just a vacant stare, but she's seeing too much. Reading too much. /Feeling/ too much. It's like looking into the yawning roaring center of a chaotic eye and there's something there that makes sense

but doesn't. does she need to listen more?

Wait, what did you say?

And then Shelby's eyes close and a breath is sucked in between her teeth, physically cringing before trying to catch her breath. She swallows, trying to listen now to Sayla, and shake off that twinge still at the back of her head.


<Pose Tracker> Chibodee Crocket has posed.

Chibodee assumes all is well now. By the sheer power of his general friendliness the thing they were supposed to do is done, right? He's eating well. Ava seems totally committed to her position, so there's nothing for him to do but focus on his own plate.

"Thanks Maddie," Chibodee says with a grin. And then the food seems to hold onto him for a while. He's an efficient but respectful eater, and it truly does taste like a holiday plate to him.

Sayla's pain here was unfortunately expected by Chibodee. The pulse of it always gives him a chill. He tries not to let it show too much in his face. Fortunately, he's not being called upon to talk.


<Pose Tracker> Madelyne Embersteel has posed.

When Sayla brings up goals, Maddie can't help but muse, opening her mouth as if she might go into yet another long winded stream of consciousness that would no doubt be as fruitless as it is full of verbal misery. But then something happens. Something that furrows her brow and brings a little frown.

As much as Maddie lets just about every psychic impression roll off her back as nothing more than a bad feeling or the urge to draw down on someone, she can't help but manage a shiver up her spine when Sayla focuses on that inernal question. "Whew." She shakes out her shoulders and picks up her hat to fit it back into place, a defensive measure for certain. "Whew, like a frozen tick done crawled up my backside." Maddie's taken a more laid back approach once the serious talk has begun, or rather, once she's noticed that it's begun. It was always serious, it just took her a bit to catch on.

Finally, with nothing else to do with herself but be a bad influence, she nods at Ava and then tilt-nods at the scrapple-grits, mouthing 'try some'.


<Pose Tracker> Aleksandr Zhuravlev has posed.

You cannot extend me advisements without providing measurable data, Ava insists. "Yes I can," is Shura's matter-of-fact rebuttal. "Especially when you do not even listen when I provide you data. Do not touch the horrible spiny plant, Ava, *this is what happens when it touches things*. And yet, you still touch it. 'I don't know what happens when *I* touch it, Shura.' The same exact thing happens, Ava." It is perhaps best there is no further context for this conversational detour.

But _will she get to consume the unknown substance_? Craftily, she asks him after some time has passed, and in a moment of distraction while he's trying to listen to the broader conversation at the table, so he answers absently, "If you want." He does not realize she is staring a hole through poor Shelby.

Instead, his focus is on Nanai, and to Sayla, with a few remarks which Anser backs up. Perhaps the two of them together will cancel out Maddie. Shura shoots Anser a quiet look with the quality of a nod, especially as she elaborates on the sentiment.

Since his childhood, Aleksandr Zhuravlev has been a soldier and blade of the state, and though by temperament he is predisposed to continue to view himself as a weapon to be offered to a wielder, in his latter days he prefers to be more discerning about the hand. Luckily, a former REA assassin doesn't have to look far to get an upgrade there.

Nonetheless, he likes to be certain. And while he has a particular set of skills, and the willingness to be the one assuming the burden of their execution, his base standard is that whoever asks such things of him does not do so often or lightly.

Perhaps he is finding that in Nanai. Perhaps he'll find it in the Shuffle Alliance. Perhaps Maddie will ruin it by agreeing with him, and then asking who they should fill with bullet holes. Shura's expression doesn't change markedly, as if -- even in his relatively short tenure with this group -- he's already become accustomed to 'Madelyne Embersteel.' But he does betray half an amused smile, which probably... means she's joking, right? If he's reacting that way, she must be joking.

Either way, however tentative his approval of the initial remarks of this conversation, his opinion seems cemented once Sayla talks about a world without war. "I have been a soldier all my life," he says. "And so, I can say there is nothing I wish more." His green eyes move between Nanai and Sayla. The hard part is always deciding how far to go to get it."

He could talk about how far he is willing to go -- has *gone* in the past -- but 'a first date' doesn't seem like the time to get into gory details. Especially not when Sayla presents that one pointed question, given exactly how far Char felt he had to go before the end. Shura says nothing, his attention returning as if by habit to Ava. He doesn't have as much personal stake in this question as others here.


<Pose Tracker> Nanai Miguel has posed.

Between the talking, the waiter comes by with Nanai's tea. It's black and smells sharply of bergamot. Not quite the typical evening choice, but life in the colonies tends to be desynchronized.

The one-time director says quietly a thanks and picks up the cup to toy with the teabag. She takes it by the string and slowly drags it around the rim of the mug, watching the lazy eddy drawn in its wake. She does this even as Sayla raises her armor. She does this even as Sayla speaks her unknowns.

She does this even as Sayla -- for a moment, for a stabbing moment -- thinks of the man called Char.

Nanai stills her hand. The swirl of the tea carries on the bag for a time longer, marked by the string still following it. Momentum. It's just momentum. Nanai puts the cup down.

"I hate warmongers," she murmurs. With her gaze cast down, and her sound so subdued, it might have been said to herself.

The voices brush past Sayla's mind. All she needs to do is reach out and touch them.

a useless psycommu researcher speaking so highly!

if people become mutually connected... all conflict will cease

they may be trusting in an empty dream...

Nanai places her hands upon the table again, palms down and flat, just like when she was showing Chibodee and Sayla that she had no weapon. Odd to do it now. But, it puts Nanai in a place where she raises her eyes to meet Sayla's gaze.

"I can't answer you cleanly. As a leader, it's my responsibility to enable everyone who put their trust in me. They're people who want better lives for those who have abused by this forever-war. People who want that forever-war to end. I hope those here today show that."

A pause. Nanai glances to those who add their thoughts. Her fingers curl against the table.

"As a woman... the psycho-frame is my responsibility. It's my hope for all of us. I refuse to leave it in the hands of warlords."


<Pose Tracker> Anser Vulpecula has posed.

There's a layer of subtext that Anser simply isn't privy to - and arguably, would not wish to be. All that the young science-minded woman has to focus on are the words being said, and the general body language that's being exchanged. It means that the unspoken but companionable understanding between herself and Shura does not go unmissed. It means she can feel Shelby looking at her for just a bit longer than is strictly comfortable - so in other words, being Shelby.

And it means that when Sayla talks, she waits her turn, and answers the question at face value, even if the question wasn't posed at her specifically, "...My only goal is to see that science continues to advance, shepherded in the right direction, for the right reasons. I've already seen what science for science's sake can do, and the limitations of following ideals without having a plan to back them."

She takes a long sip of her beer, draining the beverage with all the aplomb of a salaryman after a hard day's work, or a student who's had entirely too much practice. Or just a young woman who's spent some time around a military barracks. Maybe all of the above.

"...the rest of my goals require more time and alcohol than we have to spare, presently."


<Pose Tracker> Ava has posed.

As the moments tick by and Shura just goes on further and further, Ava's expression nuclear decays into agitation. Her eyes spark. Her mouth twists. She suffers immeasurably as she must endure that entire rant, and she makes sure the entire world can see it.

"Your proposed data set ignores dynamical system theory," is all she has to say to that -- sharply, primly. "Therefore, you make no sense."

But strangely enough as Shura seems to infuriate her, Ava still gravitates back to him, seated at his side with the obedience a small body would in orbit around a star. He is also being more permissive about the "scrapple." Madelyne, whom Ava finds strange but also intriguing -- a scrapple of her own, perhaps -- is also generously proffering the experience.

Ava considers it. Then, easily enough, she turns her eyes, and decides to consider Shelby instead. She is certain she can feel her on two planes. And the look on her face...

The way Shelby shakes off the stare tilts Ava's head. Then she comes to a decision. Despite how much she longs to try that terrifying food, she instead pushes the plate of scrapple closer to Shelby -- like the offering of a gift to help with her hurts. _Ava, this is the worst gift you could give._

Her attention averts to Sayla's brief psychic window, but its offering is nothing like the peace Nanai is broadcasting to this alley's psychic audience. Ava takes it in, unable to help herself but absorb -- anger, despair, pain -- and her expression closes like a lock, bracing and enduring. It all dredges memories, of what she can remember. Cold halls. Metallic smells that stuck her sinuses like a needle. Her hand somehow finds Shura's, closing around his knuckles like a grounding.

"War is detestable," Ava hears herself speak. "All it does is take and ruin."


<Pose Tracker> Sayla Mass has posed.

The answers soak into her as she listens. And hopefully into Chibodee. None of them answer the clear core of the question, but it's not the one she asked. But they do answer. Turthfully, honestly, messily as it may be. She nods, slowly. The soldier who would like a world without war. The scientist who wants science to be on the right track. The girl who finds war as detestable. The ones who don't answer out loud. The voices in Nanai's past that Sayla lets sink in, sting as they might. The answers come to her.

She nods, slowly, and looks up to Chibodee. "Any objections?" She already knows the answer, but she must. And then she continues.

"For more than four thousand years, the Shuffle Alliance have been tasked with watching over warfare," she intones, repeating the words of the woman who brought her in. "but we have been unable to end it. Our goal is a world without it, but sometimes, detestable as it is, not fighting is worse. But fighting is never an end to it. It's merely the fast part of the work. We need to make things chance. We need to build, and support, and offer help wherever we can. And we'll need to fight, because so much of the people in control *are* war mongers."

She looks around the group. "And sometimes we'll need to fight not because of war, but because of other threats. But it's somethng you're all prepared for." She pauses. This is why she has speech writers. "The Shuffle Alliance accepts your aid, and offers ours in return. What do you need, and what do you want?"


<Pose Tracker> Chibodee Crocket has posed.

"None," Chibodee says, swallowing properly. Sayla then does the rest of the pitch, all good, but the important part is last. "Don't be timid about asking either," he continues. "People've suffered enough."


<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.

Pulling her glasses off, Shelby pushes the hot cup against her forehead, angling it to press into one eye and then the other as she tries to shake off the thousand-yard stare that led her to a stark reminder that Ava is, herself, ... different. It's like swimming against a hurricane. When she looks back, the scrapple is pushed toward her.

"I-I ate earlier, but thank you," she says, her tone soft.

Appropriately, Sayla asks them for their goals. Pulling in a deep breath, she waits for others to speak before the thick-framed glasses are pushed back onto her face, fixing her bangs with a swipe of her hand. Her eyes lower again, her shoulders slanting forward as the young newtype looks like she's ready to curl up in on herself all over again.

Everyone shares, in that brief window while she's taking a moment to gather herself.

The pink-haired young woman nods at Sayla and Chibodee, and then looks at Nanai, waiting to hear what she has to say, too...


<Pose Tracker> Nanai Miguel has posed.

Nanai listens to the words intoned. She knows a ritual when she hears it. Her hands creep around the shape of her mug of tea. Her sympathy turns outward -- how could it not? -- to the quiet pains arrayed around her, some singing in the current, others vested within their selves.

A moment. A question of needs. She purses her lips.

"If you could buy a round for the kitchen staff, it would really make their night," says Nanai, with a completely straight face.


<Pose Tracker> Madelyne Embersteel has posed.

What can Maddie do but watch as her delicious meal becomes a bargaining chip for Shelby's soul. Her gaze turns, following it, and then up to Shelby, so she now has the expectant look of a friend who made a yummy meal and is just waiting for her audience to try it. And yet other things do draw her attention. Talk of war, which she gathers, is bad, even though it's been good for her bottom line. But that's not what she's about now. "I do reckon there's some kind of inverse calculation of the square root of just how war would affect me importin's what i need to cook up some more of this here fine meal, and I'm sure Nugget could figure it out, but that aside, I do suppose war ends up being a mighty awful thing, and so I suppose I'm with the group on this one."

Maddie looks to Nanai in that moment, almost as if asking 'did I say the right thing'? Being altruistic is a new thing for her. So is being on the 'good' team. Almost absently she reaches into the deep pockets of her coat to produce something else for Ava, since she is being so charitable with her food.

A scattering of hard candies pilfered from candy jars with insufficient security measures slides across the table.

Surely, Ava needs more sugar.

Sayla puts out her offer, and really has a way with words. So does Nanai, who brings forth another infectious smile from the Earthnoid. She looks Sayla dead in the eye, even leaning forward a bit. "And I will take a new banjo, so that I might sing them a proper song."


<Pose Tracker> Chibodee Crocket has posed.

Chibodee tilts on his seat, reaches behind his back, and pulls out what looks like a wad of duct tape loosely folded into a wallet. He peels it open, looks across the staff, estimates, and then takes out enough currency to pay for a round for the staff with a generous tip. Chibodee neatly folds the bills, puts them under his scrapple plate, and puts his wallet back into his pocket.

"I got 'em," Chibodee says to Nanai, looking her in the eye. "That's about all I had on me though. More'n that it's gonna need to be a check."


<Pose Tracker> Anser Vulpecula has posed.

Anser Vulpecula sets her hands slowly down on the table, sliding her empty draft beer glass away from her and leaning forward, her elbows on the table. She looks directly at Sayla, appraising her carefully, before doing the same with Chibodee. She lacks the same sensitivity as many of her colleagues, so empirical data is important. Whatever she observes, whatever conclusion she comes to, she doesn't voice the verdict. She simply stops staring, and shrugs a shoulder in Nanai's direction.

The fact that she's not immediately rejecting the offer out of hand is likely evidence enough of her thoughts on the matter.

She turns what might be described as an affectionately withering gaze on Madelyne - the sort that bang up against one another often, but with little actual lasting animosity. She quickly turns her head to Chibodee, "...Food enough for us to cook meals that are not /rations/ nor /scrapple/. An actual chocolate bar. Earplugs."


<Pose Tracker> Aleksandr Zhuravlev has posed.

From the way Shura regards Ava and her rejoinder blankly, it is clear he believes she is the one who doesn't make any sense right now.

Yet despite that surface bickering, she gravitates towards him, and he -- obviously -- towards her. He seems constantly aware of Ava and her status on some level, even if his attention is elsewhere... subconsciously dedicated to her protection, as if looking now after this one abused scientific experiment could wipe away all the years of his old sins.

Though he gave what one could consider to be a 'pat' answer to the question presented to them all, it is not hard to guess at the more personal undercurrent beneath the simple response. A world without war, where children grow up children, and keep their innocence. Ava didn't get to. Neither did he.

Everyone else says what they have to say, and then so do Sayla and Chibodee. Dr. Mass's response is, in a way, an answer to an unspoken question of his own. What will they do in order to finally secure the peace they have sought for so long? Fighting, she says, is never the end to it. "That," he says quietly, "is true. Is how more warmongers are made. They become addicted to how quick and effective it is."

So what do they need and want in return? The first few answers, quick and glib, bring Shura to smile faintly, but his attention seems more focused on the way Ava clings to his hand. His tightens around hers in response, like an anchor. "Hold to that goal," is all he says, as to what he wants from the Shuffle Alliance. "And meet it."

His smile grows less serious. "Is a reach goal, however. In the short term, I would also take a drink."


<Pose Tracker> Shelby Korts has posed.

Shelby's expression is somewhere between tired, dire, and desperate. She really does not want to eat the scrapple, and there's a cold sweat on the back of her neck as she scrambles and struggles to find some sort of excuse to not talk more, or have to explain herself, and --

-- and --

Saved by Sayla?! The pink-haired newtype swallows, shaking her head and focusing on the doctor. "I-I -- I-I don't need anything. But thank you, Doctor Mass, for everything you're doing." She glances to the others in turn, shifting her hands on her travel cup of tea. "Thank you."


<Pose Tracker> Nanai Miguel has posed.

"Difficult to deal with checks around here," says Nanai to Chibodee. She shares the man's look in mutual assessment. The eventual expression on her face seems to be one of approval.

Her gaze shifts sidelong to Maddie, who asks for judgment. Nanai gives none -- until Maddie offers pilfered candies to Ava. Nanai briefly checks to make sure the ratio of grandma candy to edible candy is decent, and then quietly nods her assent to the other woman. She is good.

For now.

A short glance to Anser, and a slight narrowing of her eyes. This is the tried-and-true 'things are going well' gesture.

While the others speak, Nanai finally takes a drink of her tea. It's not a tentative, exploratory sip. There's more confidence, and it doesn't seem as if she's burned for her daring. Truly she waited until the perfect moment. Her eyes close -- almost. Mostly-lidded, she looks across the table at Ava's hand on Shura's.

"We should have another conversation in a different location, Dr. Mass. I want to talk to you about a conspiracy theory called Laplace's Box."

Nanai has to make this point stick, and so she looks Sayla dead in the face.

"It concerns the man they call the second coming of Char, and those who profit from this delusion."


<Pose Tracker> Sayla Mass has posed.

This could be a test of earnestness. Or it could be a genuine help. And Chibodee is already on it and she shakes her head. The requests are mostlylight, but some are heavier. And Sayla... has a notebook out, just in case. A Banjo, manageable. Food was always the plan, but a chocolate bar... Actually, that's easy enough. And gives her an excuse. "Any type in particular? I've found a supplier on some older Japanese bars. Or are we talking something else?"

Aleksandr asks something heavier. She nods, solemnly. "That's my intention." Still, when things lighten she nods. "Well then, what do you go for?" She nods to Shelby. "If you think of something, please ask." That said, Shelby might feel like Sayla pushed enough on her already. Still, the offer is there.

And then Nanai gets Sayla's full attention. She raises an eyebrow about the conspiracy theory- only for Nanai to hit her with a topic that will always have her attention. Shelby might remember how Sayla reacted to that Sleeves pilot. The walls are reinforced, to not let anothed spurt out into the highly sensitive crowd.

Very calmly, Sayla reaches into her purse, and pulls out several folded bills: Those who can catch a glimpse see that it's enough to easily keep the group covered for an evening out. "...It looks like it will have to be a rain check from me, I'm afraid." She's being polite but, her mind has a solitary focus right now. She pushes the money towards Chibodee, to keep the prospect that it's the alliance doing this. "Could you buy the drinks? For anyone who wants one." She looks back to Nanai.

"Lead the way."

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