2023-02-28: Leveraging Possibility
- Cast: Banagher Links, Full Frontal, Angelo Sauper
- Where: The Ra Mari II
- Date: U.C. 0097 02 28
- Summary: Haunted by nightmares and fresh from another defeat by the Banshee, Banagher swallows his pride and turns to a Ghost for help.
<Pose Tracker> Banagher Links has posed.
Banagher startles awake, drenched in sweat. That was the most vivid of the nightmares yet. Staying still for a long moment, he reaches out psychically, straining to feel the Banshee. Distantly, he feels the Unicorn glimmering at the edge of his awareness, but... No sign of her sister. A sigh of relief.
Glancing at his bedside clock, Banagher sighs. 2AM. He may as well get ready.
A few minutes later, Banagher stands under a warm shower. The Ra Mari II is really a nice ship... This is more hot water than his apartment usually had, back when his mother was alive. Leaning his forehead against the wall, he closes his eyes, letting the shower run.
---
The day passes slowly. Banagher tends to his Haro forum, texts Audrey and Leina, even doodles in his stiff engineering-diagram style. Eventually... he can't put it off any longer.
Full Frontal burns at the edge of Banagher's awareness, like a flame he can't quite look away from. He'd be able to find his way to the Ghost's quarters blindfolded. All the way there, the young pilot's hands are clenched into fists, bitter resentment at the front of his mind.
But what other option does he have?
Here at last. Banagher raises his hand, to the door... and lowers it. "Come on." He mutters to himself.
Take two. His hand makes contact with the door, knocking a /bit/ harder than may be strictly necessary.
<Pose Tracker> Full Frontal has posed.
Silence. Unending. Unchanging. Unbroken. Like a moment carved out from time, devoid of any of the foppery or posturing demanded by his role as the Second Comet. In here, the vessel stood alone, a receptacle for the woes and worries of the Spacenoids. As it should be.
That is, until a not-unexpected knock breaks the surgically prepared quiet. Full Frontal's eyes open as he rises from his chair, clipping on his mask in one deft motion.
So you've finally come, boy.
Full Frontal takes his time moving to the door. Even something as minute as this was necessary to prepare the board, to start off turn one on as favorable of a position as possible. A nervous foe, an unnerved business associate, an anxious rival. All so much easier to unravel on the loom and remake into a cloth more befitting of his needs.
After minutes pass, but just before the boy moves back to the hall, the Ghost of Char opens the door to his chambers. Looking down, he offers a thin smile, filled with a smug disdain and practiced superiority. "Well, well well. If it isn't the Key. Tell me, my dear boy, how are you doing? I can't imagine your precious inheritance has fully recovered from your lack of skill." Words carefully chosen, verbal daggers meant to tear down his walls, to weaken his will and make him more malleable, like clay or putty to be re-sculpted into the needs of Neo Zeon and the Spacenoids.
Emotionless, carved red eyes stare down at the uncomfortable pilot of the Unicorn. "You are welcome to enter my quarters, but be quick about it, boy. Unlike you, I have the responsibilities of a million million souls on my shoulders." Turning around, Full Frontal left the sliding door open and awaited Banagher's entrance into his spartan accommodations.
<Pose Tracker> Angelo Sauper has posed.
Angelo Sauper has never been on Earth until today.
This is, he decides, yet one more strike against the Ra Mari II.
The Commander of the Royal Guard has not been sleeping well, lately; at least part of this is in his opinion thanks to the oppressive gravity of Earth. The other part is of course the stench of this planet.
The nightmares haunting his sleep?
He hardly even admits their existence to himself, let alone that they're a problem. It's fine, he tells himself.
Nightmares are nothing new.
*KNOCK KNOCK*
Neither are irritants.
It takes time for Full Frontal to answer that door. And when he does, when he steps aside --
It's Angelo Sauper's scowling face that's first there to greet Banagher within those spartan quarters.
Dressed crisp in his officer's attire, the pale spacenoid is setting a tea set carefully down upon a table by the time Banagher's presencce is revealed to him. Violet eyes narrow instantly; he knew who it was on the other end of that door before, but, especially for Angelo...
There's a big difference between feeling something and having to -see- it directly.
Angelo rises. Scorn decorates his features as he clasps his hand behind his back and hisses a soft, little "tck" of annoyance.
"What are you doing here?"
With the unspoken follow up of, 'and how can quickly can I get you to leave' just sort of lingering in the young man's obvious tension.
<Pose Tracker> Banagher Links has posed.
Full Frontal is in his quarters, Banagher can feel him. Why is the Ghost making him wait? Frustrated, the young man scuffs his shoe against the floor. This was a stupid idea. Leina and Audrey were right.
Just as Banagher is about to leave, Full Frontal opens the door, startling him. Blinking widely, he looks up into the red eyes of that mask, then frowns.
"I have a name." Banagher grumbles, looking away. "...The Unicorn is fine. We were -- attacked again. By the Banshee."
Full Frontal welcomes him in, and Bangher walks over the threshold, feeling more uneasy with every heartbeat. "...thanks."
Angelo bars the way. Banagher, already on edge, jumps in surprise. "Sh--" He cuts himself off. "I'm not here to talk to you."
There's no venom in it. Angelo saved him, the last time they met, even if he was a jerk about it. Banagher can't just forget about that so soon.
Standing awkwardly in the middle of the oddly empty space, Banagher looks around, trying to avoid both Angelo and Full Frontal's gazes. This is... so different from Full Frontal's mansion at Palau. It's uncomfortable. Banagher looks terribly out of place, in his jeans and fluffy hoodie. Doesn't the Ghost even have a phone charger?
"I'm sure you already know." Banagher says, too distressed by the quiet to think things through. "But the Unicorn and I are staying at the PPL now. We thought we'd be safe. But -- my family attacked us there. Attacked everyone. And I lost. Again. ...I tried everything."
Banagher doesn't elaborate into what that 'everything' was.
"...this can't keep happening." Golden eyes raise to meet Frontal's gaze. "You're the only one who has taken on the Banshee successfully. I need--" A pause. His fists clench again, and when Banagher speaks, it's clear this is taking actual effort. "...I need your help. I'm not a good enough pilot."
<Pose Tracker> Full Frontal has posed.
If Full Frontal was capable of outwardly expressing anything, the most rancid smirk possible would be rapidly widening on the Ghost's face.
So it's finally come to this.
Yet despite the irony in the boy coming to ask him, one of his most hated foes for assistance, Full Frontal still lets nothing show. All the better to unnerve the boy, to make him wonder and doubt.
Saying nothing as he sits down, Full Frontal swivels the chair to face Banagher, still standing up. Crossing his legs, putting his arms on armrests, the supreme leader of the Sleeves regards the Key with a frozen lack of passion.
"We've known each other for some time now, but this is the first time you've come to me for counsel, or for assistance. I can't remember the last time you offered me the same. Can you?" Turning to the ever alert Lieutenant, Full Frontal queried Angelo. "Tell me, Angelo. Why should I aid a rival to the Box? Why should I do anything to assist the growth of one who has been such a thorn in our side thus far, who has not once offered us generosity and aid? It would be peak foolishness for us to aid such a man out of mere charity, wouldn't you agree?"
A heavy silence follows as the Ghost of Char's unblinking, unfeeling crimson visor turns back to focus on Banagher. "Let's be frank, my dear boy. You never wanted my friendship, and you feared to be in my debt." His presence magnifies as Full Frontal exerts his pressure. The room seems to fall away, growing smaller, as the Ghost of Char grows, squeezing warmth and comfort out of the cabin's atmosphere as a psychic chill set in, a fog that clung to Banagher's boyish frame.
"I ask you again, Banagher Links. Why should I help you?"
<Pose Tracker> Angelo Sauper has posed.
'I'm not here to talk to you.'
Angelo's gaze narrows by a fraction. He looks at Banagher as if he could just stare straight through the Unicorn's pilot, as if even lack of spite or anger in Banagher's dismissal was still insulting -- /more/ insulting. That violet gaze turns Full Frontal's way.
"... Tch."
Ultimately, he turns his stare aside and says nothing. He is here to talk to the Captain; the Captain has invited him in.
Protesting would just be foolish.
Angelo might have helped save Banagher, but there's no sign of any kind of camaraderie or even a general lack of animosity in the young man as he sets to cups of tea out on that table, and begins to pour the steaming contents of that kettle, the motion perfect only in a way someone well-practiced could be.
He always keeps Banagher in the corner of his vision as he works. As Banagher invokes the Banshee, irritation swells in Angelo's expression. His hands are gripping the tea kettle a bit more tightly as he sets it down, straightens out, and takes his place -- diligently just behind and to the right of the seated commander of the Sleeves.
And that is when Banagher reveals his reason for coming here.
He needs help.
The Captain's help.
Angelo Sauper's right brow spasms.
"Ridiculous," is his scathing agreement with Full Frontal, his hands held together knuckle-pale tight against the small of his back as he affixes his narrow-eyed gaze on Banagher. "There's no reason, just -entitled presumption-. You start to see the shape of what you've bumbled into and now you -- you have the gall to ask the Captain's help, when you've only ever treated us - treated HIM - as an enemy?"
His opinion asked, he weighs it with a caustic deadpan: "Show respect."
<Pose Tracker> Banagher Links has posed.
"No." Banagher responds. "I've... never done anything for you"
Full Frontal addresses Angelo, and Bangher awkwardly looks away, bringing an arm across his chest to grasp his other arm. Practically wilting under the Ghost's psychic pressure, Banagher squeezes his eyes closed. All the more thankful for his hoodie in the midst of this cold fog, he shivers. He's never been very capable of raising psychic walls.
Despite the fog pressing in around him, Angelo manages to irritate Banagher enough into snapping a response. "It's not like you ever treated /me/ as anything but an enemy either! Full Frontal -- he could've killed Audrey and me in Sweetwater! And you can't even look at me without scowling!"
But Angelo is right. If he's coming to ask for help, he at least owes them his respect. And the Banshee would've already taken Banagher and the Unicorn if it wasn't for the two men standing before him.
"I--" It's so hard to think. Opening his eyes again, Banagher looks into Full Frontal's shielded gaze. "...if the Banshee takes the Unicorn and I... They'll do to me what they've done to the Banshee's pilot." Banagher's voice shakes. "The Box will be out of your reach permanently."
"It's only a matter of time before it finds me again. Before it finds me alone. And if I can't fight it off, this is over, for all of us." He feels dizzy. Swaying on his feet gently, Banagher shakes his head. "My family doesn't want the Box opened, not ever. They'll destroy the Unicorn and turn me into a brainwashed tool. I -- know you must have access to what happened at the PPL. You must've heard the radio. You know what they did."
<Pose Tracker> Full Frontal has posed.
Full Frontal furrows his brow at Banagher's reasoning. The boy was not incorrect here. Martha Vist Carbine would happily murder her own family rather than lose control of the power and prestige that the sealed box afforded her. Cardeas Vist was not the first family member she'd probably done away with, and Banagher Links would not be the last if she had her way.
Yet Full Frontal had a rare opportunity to bring the boy under his wing. He would never join the Sleeves, perhaps, but there were other ways to chain the boy to the needs of Neo Zeon. "You are not incorrect boy, but bold of you to assume you have any bargaining chip worth its weight after your pathetic performance out there." Standing up from his chair, Full Frontal put a hand on Banagher's shoulder with that immaculately practiced smile, drawing his head close to Banagher's ears. A knife-sharp whisper, as precise and pointed as a stiletto to the heart, pierced the Key.
"You are lucky that Cardeas Vist requires more than your DNA to access the Unicorn and LA+ Program, because otherwise you would merely be Banagher-1."
Walking back a pace, Full Frontal's smile remained unchanging, even with the visceral remark having left his lips moments before. "But alas, it would appear that our circumstances are hardly so simple, for both of us." Turning his attention back to his major domo, the Ghost of Char called out. "Tell me, Angelo. What skills do we prize in the Royal Guards? What sets you and your kindred apart from the rank and file of Neo Zeon?"
Raising an arm out, hand balled into a fist clutching an imaginary foe, Full Frontal continued, now talking to the two young men before him. "Any fool can learn how to pilot a mobile suit. Any tool can learn how to evade and attack. Yet some will prosper and some will inevitably fall like the chaff they are, stellar dust forevermore. Do you know why that is, Banagher Links?"
""It is because they cannot let go of themselves, and die clinging to meaningless ideals. Your obsessions with possibility and redemption have cost you so many of your battles. Can you not see that by slavishly hoping in possibility, you have denied your own?"
<Pose Tracker> Angelo Sauper has posed.
Angelo Sauper has a gift for irritation. And like most curses, irritation is an ourboros that feeds on itself. Just looking at Banagher irritates Angelo; he can't help it, and he doesn't try to hide it. That, in turn, inspires an irritated response from Banagher. Which in turn--
"You weren't an enemy, you were a -mistake-! Why should I look at someone who obliviously prances through life like you with anything less than a scowl, you--"
--feeds the cycle.
Whatever hateful tirade Banagher has inspired in Angelo comes to a sudden end as Full Frontal speaks and stands. One hand swept through the air, posture hunched forward like a predator on the defensive ready to pounce, whatever Angelo has to say is cut off into a choked sound of resigned frustration as he reigns himself back in, straightening up to an immaculately stiff position of neutrality that doesn't really ever reach his eyes. And, quietly, he just watches as Full Frontal approaches Banagher, and conveys to him that whispered, painful truth.
Even if he could hear it, Angelo couldn't take any pleasure in it. Despite everything -- he's not a sadist.
There's very little things he -does- find contentment in, anymore.
So, he remains silent until his Captain addresses him. It's remarkable, how the venom in his features immediately drains away into a bemused blink, how briefly his expression softens with surprise as that question is asked. It barely lasts a second before his neutrality reasserts itself, calmer now, and his lips part.
'Loyalty' would be the obvious answer, just looking at Angelo and his unfettered fanaticism for the Commander of the Sleeves. And yet...
"We know the truth," he states simply, firmly. A second passes; his jaw sets, as if he doesn't want to continue in front of Banagher of all people, and yet. "... We know the ugliness of the world and we've come out the other side. We don't fight for Neo-Zeon, or the Zabis. We fight for a world that -survives-."
Angelo looks aside, at a point on the table where a vase would reside, in a perfect world.
"... And we don't rely on -dreams- to get us there."
<Pose Tracker> Banagher Links has posed.
"You're not the only spacenoid who's ever suffered." Banagher hisses at Angelo. "Have you ever thought that you might be so caught up in your own suffering that you're just causing more pain to people like you?"
Banagher flinches under Full Frontal's touch, a breath away from recoiling. He forces himself into stillness as Full Frontal berates him, and draws close, the psychic fog only worsening this close to the Ghost of Char. Banagher endures, until--
"My father--!" Banagher pulls away, anger flaring hot in his chest. But...
/Did/ Cardeas love him? Did Cardeas care? What kind of man experiments on his own small child? Memories of sitting at a piano with some kind of headset strapped on come flooding back, and Banagher reflexively winces, reaching up to cover his left eye.
"...my father never wanted this for me."
It's the best he can come up with. The only thing Banagher /knows/ is true about Cardeas Vist.
Full Frontal is already stepping away, again addressing Angelo. Banagher takes a breath. The Ghost's charisma is as undeniable as it is terrible. Wishing he could shout at Full Frontal and his creepy sychophant, instead, he... waits. Listening to the back and forth.
The truth of an ugly world? One that gives up on dreams, and ideals. One that abandons possibility...
Banagher looks from Angelo to Full Frontal. He takes a breath, and lets it out.
"I know this world is horrible. I know... But it's going to stay that way unless people fight to make it better. Miracles aren't enough. It's going to take everyone doing little things to improve their lives, day after day. What kind of people survive in the world you're fighting for, Angelo? Just people like you? What about Mr. Gilboa and his family? What about people who can't fight?"
In contrast to Full Frontal, Banagher is still. He looks uncomfortable and out of place, and slightly dazed, but there's an unbending determination in his eyes. "I won't give up on that. I won't give up on possibility. There must be a way to get stronger without losing myself."
<Pose Tracker> Full Frontal has posed.
Unfeeling crimson eyes rest on top of equally dispassionate ice blue orbs, obscuring nothing. After all, what is there to hide, if there is nothing at all to begin with? Full Frontal studies Banagher in an almost surgical manner, inspecting the boy from his position as an experienced butcher might study the carcass of cattle that had just been delivered.
What would need cutting away? Was any of the fresh meat that lay before him in need of trimming? Was any of it unsalvageable? Fresh blood would need to be drained and discarded, lest it spoil the rest of the meat later down the line. An excess of fat here, too much gristle there. The bones did not yet contain enough marrow to warrant their breaking and baking, nor did the meat itself meet Full Frontal's exacting standards.
This was no Kobe-raised beef or American Wagyu.
This wasn't even worth grading on the lowest scale of any of the prime gradings. As A5 Olive Wagyu was to the dregs of supermarket steaks, so was he in comparison to the naive, self-taught fool before him.
Banagher Links had an overdependence on his Newtype powers and the sheer power of the RX-0 Unicorn. It was sheer, dumb luck that he'd made it as far as he had, as well as being carried by his many allies. The last few bouts against the Banshee had only cemented his belief. Banagher Links was unworthy of the Unicorn. He was only allowed to keep it because there was indeed no one else who could pilot it.
"So young, so foolish, and still so naive. Unwilling to make the necessary sacrifices, unwilling to commit yourself to the realities of our world. Dreams will eventually fade to dust, just as this universe will meet its cold, inexorable end when the very last star dims and dies."
His eyes narrow, unseen, beneath the mask that is his identity. "Let me ask you again boy, and no hypotheticals or what-ifs. What do we gain from teaching you, from helping our rival grow from annoyance to threat? What will you do for us?" The mask is unclipped, yet the persona remains. Even as crimson eyes fall away to steely blue, Full Frontal is all that there is.
"I am Neo Zeon. I am the Sleeves. I am the hopes and dreams of the Spacenoid peoples. If you will not offer up the Box to us, then what can you offer us instead, even as you beg us for training and succor?"
<Pose Tracker> Angelo Sauper has posed.
Invoking Angelo's suffering? It earns an almost kneejerk dismissal; the lieutenant scoffs, purple eyes hooding in distaste. It'd be easy to see it as something arrogant, as if the idea that anyone else's suffering mattered compared to him. But...
... but...
Angelo seems more than content -not- to hit back at Banagher's accusations, as if he'd just as soon not even remotely address himself or what he's been through.
No; Angelo is very silent, throughout the exchange between Banagher and Full Frontal. Straight-backed, hands clasped together behind him, jaw set to a perfectly point of stoic neutrality tainted with a dash of disdain, after he has answered his Captain's query his gaze remains on the table -- at least, until Banagher addresses him. That gaze turns sharply onto Banagher.
"Oh? You think we don't do anything for them? I'm -sorry-," he seethes, working towards a fever pitch, "Maybe I should be like you, and offer them -fuzzy thoughts- and pretty, pointless sparkles! We can blind them with how great the world COULD be in some hypothetical, NONSENSE reality that doesn't exist! 'Possibility' is just the tool people like you bludgeon over everyone's heads to keep us all complacent--"
But once more, Full Frontal cuts in and cuts down Banagher, and Angelo silences as if to defer any sort of judgment to him. The pale-haired youth can't hide his dissatisfaction, however, at the sight of Banagher, denying Full Frontal...
... and the Captain, in his own way, still letting the boy the chance to offer something. Offer something... to train him.
Angelo wants Banagher to be thrown out. Right now. Angelo wants to punch him and yell at him.
But he knows his place.
And so he just stands with clenched fists, and swallows his annoyance and fear like poison.
<Pose Tracker> Banagher Links has posed.
Full Frontal's gaze changes, becoming predatory. Banagher shifts his weight onto his back foot, straining in his effort not to look away.
"Maybe you're right. But even so." Banagher murmurs. "I won't give up on this world. I won't -- destroy myself."
Fury radiates from Angelo, and Banagher shoots him another glance. "Those sparkles saved everyone on board the Ra Mari II and the Garencieres. I've seen Palau! If you cared about them at all, you'd tear down that ugly palace and use the money to give people decent homes." If Leina was here, she could do such a better job at this... "I think you're forgetting... You're the ones with the power in this situation. You're the ones using it to keep everyone in poverty and misery. At least I /want/ better for them! At least I'm willing to fight for it!"
As Full Frontal removes his mask, Banagher watches carefully. Again, the increase of psychic pressure, battering the exhausted pilot of the Unicorn.
Staring into those ice-blue eyes, Banagher's mind races. What can he possibly offer? Not loyalty, not the Box, not himself. As the moment stretches out... A realization comes to him.
"For all you're scorning possibility, you're relying on it as much as I am." Banagher steps forward, his heart pounding. "You don't... /have/ a plan besides using LaPlace's Box to blackmail the Federation. If you did, you wouldn't care about it at all! You're running out of time, and the Box is your only option. Neo-Zeon has three years. They must be desperate, sending a Ghost to chase a fairy tale."
A little smile. "This is an even negotiation. You teach me how to protect myself, and you still have a chance at your goal. If you send me away and I'm caught, you have nothing. Your people will lose their hopes and dreams. What good will you be then? If you think you're empty now, what about when there's no one to give you purpose at all?" Banagher's gaze turns to Angelo. "When they leave Full Frontal behind with the Universal Century and reassign /you/ to someone who won't put up with your temper? What do you think that will be like?"
"That's my offer. Possibility. The /only/ chance you have at the future you want." Banagher, radiating a flickering confidence, looks up at Full Frontal, unflinching. "Take it or leave it."
<Pose Tracker> Full Frontal has posed.
A light chuckle comes to Full Frontal as he witnesses Banagher's bluster and bravado. "Yet you think that is still a good enough reason to help foster the pilot who could become our greatest foe? I must admit, Banagher, I did not think you capable of ever growing a spine." There is respect in names, and it's a marked change from how Full Frontal has addressed the Unicorn's pilot previously. Yet even so...
"However, you seem to misunderstand your situation and misconstrue my own. With the appearance of the Phenex, Triple 000, and others, there are more means of attaining the liberation we desire. The Box is simply the most straightforward, foolproof method available to us." Full Frontal's eyes stare coldly at Banagher's golden orbs, the frost of winter permeating a space with no seasons.
"However, you've made your point, and I see little means in trying to change your hope-addled mind at present. We will train you. However, there will be some conditions."
Snapping his fingers once, a sharp staccato peal of sound, Full Frontal turns to Angelo. "During the duration of your training, Angelo will be your superior officer, ignoring the current command structure of the Ra Mari. You will do everything he asks you to do, you will do so without hesitation, and if any of us hear you complaining about it, your training will be terminated immediately, and you will never become able to protect anyone, least of all the people you love."
Noticing the slight surprise and the vein beginning to develop on Angelo's face, the Ghost of Char continues, "And Angelo, I have faith in you to control your distaste for this child, but I also expect you to hold absolutely nothing back. Think of him as an upstart new recruit to the Royal Guards. You know what to do." His back now turned to Banagher, Full Frontal offers Angelo a very smug, grim smirk that conveys everything the Lieutenant needs to know and appreciate in one swift facial expression.
Resetting his face back to the controlled, passive smile, the Ghost of Char turns back to Banagher. "If you are able to survive the basics, then I will deign to give you a lesson. However, keep in mind this one truth." Drawing near to Banagher once more, the pressure grows once more.
"We lack the time for boot camp pleasantries. We've little time together, so if you survive the good Lieutenant's training, be prepared to fight as if your life depends on it."
The voice narrows to a razor sharp whisper, violence personified not in threats or emotion, but the starkly dispassionate sociopathy of a man who does not care.
"The moment we board our suits, I will do everything in my power to kill you. I advise you to do the same if you intend to survive my training."
<Pose Tracker> Angelo Sauper has posed.
"-We're- the ones," Angelo repeats, slowly. He tilts his head up. A smile touches his lips, but it has nothing but disdain in it. His fingernails bite into his palms. He should show restraint.
"That's -rich-. You want to talk about our suffering without even knowing the source of it. Maybe you should tell me everything you actually know about us."
But for some reason, he just can't help himself around Banagher.
"It's been a while since I've gotten to hear a good joke."
After that, though, Angelo once more lapses into silence, listening as Banagher makes his play. The very idea that someone like -this- managed to get his hands on the Box -- it just makes his soul tremble with anger. He doesn't even fully understand -why- Banagher irritates him so much.
Or at least, he doesn't want to fully admit to all the reasons.
But if nothing else, the lieutenant is dedicated to his role. He doesn't step outside of it, nor does he even dare to try to speak for the commander of the Sleeves -- even when Banagher addresses him directly, the white-haired spacenoid just fractionally narrows those purple eyes of his.
The 'possibility' of a world where Full Frontal doesn't succeed, is left behind...
Angelo doesn't even entertain it the idea. In the end...
His views on his future doesn't change, overly much.
For once, Angelo manages to restrain himself; and when Full Frontal begins his counter, a smug, scornful little smile touches his lips. He enjoys the Captain's verbal riposte until
'During the duration of your training, Angelo will be your superior officer--'
exactly this point, whereupon he blinks exactly once. Mental inertia being what it is, that smile lingers a full three seconds in incongruent tandem with his bemused stare as his brain processes what Full Frontal is saying.
'Angelo will be your superior officer'
'Angelo will be BANAGHER LINKS' superior officer'
'ANGELO SAUPER WILL BE RESPONSIBLE FOR BANAGHER LINKS'
Whereupon, his expression briefly blanches.
Angelo's lips part as if in rare protest. He even lifts a hand!
But then Full Frontal looks at him. Looks at him with that smile. And Angelo blinks exactly one more time before that hand redirects to settle over his heart in preamble for the deferential dip of a bow, head lowered.
"... Understood, Captain."
When Angelo straightens back up, he's smiling as he looks -directly- Banagher's way.
It is not a pleasant smile.
Angelo Sauper is -not- a sadist. There's very little about a day having to deal with Banagher Links that he -actually- takes pleasure in.
But, well.
Even someone who isn't a sadist can enjoy a bit of schadenfreude.
<Pose Tracker> Banagher Links has posed.
"You're not the only ace pilot in the Earthsphere. Just the only one with experience against the Banshee." Banagher murmurs. "I'll beg Amuro Ray if I have to. He's going to be at HaroCon this year."
It's a bluff. Amuro Ray has vanished from the public eye, almost certainly still recovering from 000.
Golden eyes blink in surprise at Full Frontal's use of his name, even if it comes with insult. The other options the Ghost mentions are perilous at best. From the information he's seen from the Shuffle Alliance, Banagher knows there's no way the Sleeves could take down the Phenex. 000 will turn on someone as soon as work on them, and the Sleeves have no way of curing that corruption. Banagher isn't impressed, watching Full Frontal calmly.
A gentle nod as Full Frontal mentions conditions. Of course. He'd expected this. But--
"Angelo--?" Banagher all-but breathes, worry in his voice. As the conditions pile up, he slowly puts both his hands in his hoodie pocket. "...I understand."
What has he gotten himself into?
Head spinning, Banagher glances at the door. Maybe he really /should/ try and beg Amuro for help--
Full Frontal approaches again, and that pressure threatens to crush the young pilot. Wincing, he holds his ground, though his hands shake in his pockets. Banagher has never faced a /serious/ Full Frontal in battle before.
"Alright." He manages, and then, when he gets his breath back, "...thank you."
Banagher looks back to Angelo just in time to meet that unpleasant smile. It's his turn to go pale, now, hunching his shoulders up in a futile protective gesture.
"I -- I." He has no idea what to say. "...won't... let you down... Lieutenant."
With that, Banagher looks away. "Thank you both again, um. I'm going to go. My VERTEX handle is thelastHaro if you need to message me to -- set up training."
Making his way to the door, Banagher will hurridly escape back to his own quarters -- provided he isn't stopped.