While the play began to reach a peak of rising action, outside crowds parted for the one Sentinel not in attendance. Remy could hear the murmur of the crowds within the theatre even from down the road, and she could tell that when she got in there no one was going to be happy with it. Always one to make a scene - it was almost like she couldn’t avoid it at this point of her life. “Shit! Shit, shit, shit…” The Commander was glad, certainly, that she had rejected the Kyoran attire gifted to her. It wasn’t out of disrespect, or ignorance, but rather necessity. She wouldn’t have felt right in all those layers. Mobility was key as a soldier, especially one of her potency and caliber and… really, running across the fucking city would have been a pain. That being said, she wasn’t underdressed as she made way for the theatre, her decorated coat draped over her arm and her tie knotted tight and waistcoast freshly washed. Even her boots were polished, laced neatly over her tight slacks. She wasn’t excited for whatever shit she was going to get for being late, but it was secondary in her mind. Instead, the Second Commander found her head flooded in discomforting and annoying thoughts that didn’t seem to want to go away. The burning of the rune on her wrist on the run reminded her of why she was late, and the thought brought an iron, bitter taste to her tongue. [i]Stupid kid…[/i] [b]"FOR THE REBELLION! FOR AATROIA! FOR ALL FREE PEOPLE!"[/b] The dimly lit theatre brightened as the Bellamy soldier entered, but only for a moment before she unceremoniously let it thunk loudly shut behind her. [i]Whatever. Performers won’t care if they’re any good.[/i] Without missing a beat, Remy continued her ascent through the theatre, pulling a silver pocket watch out of her waistcoat pocket and flicking it open. Reaching the same hand forward as she reached the curtained off private balcony, she snapped the object shut and breezed right in, hugging the right wall as she waltzed to where she wanted to be. Without a care, she moved past whoever she needed, settling into an empty seat beside the Prince and tucking away her watch. Against her better judgement, she didn’t heave the world’s [i]largest[/i] sigh of relief, only sinking in her seat as the play went on and rubbing a gloved pair of fingers against the bridge of her nose. [i]Shit.[/i] The actors might not have reacted to the sound of the door closing, but plenty of others did. The tremor passed through the crowd, shocked and appaled that someone would [i]dare[/i] to enter a performance after it had begun, especially one so anticipated... And Cyril, who took a quick once over of his group to see who had been missing, simply shut his eyes. By the time Remy arrived, Cyril had opened his eyes and the play had progressed beyond the battle, to the moment when Iaim Ciua and Kuraihi Linea joined forces. As Remy took her seat, the Governer huffed off to the side, before muttering something to one of her guards. Meanwhile, Cyril calmly murmured without looking over, [b]"Everything alright?"[/b] "P[i]ea[/i]chy." Remy hissed back, lowering her arm. As soon as she felt settled, she shifted, sitting up a bit more in her seat and adjusted her blade at her side so that it would rest more comfortably at her hip. Things were certainly not peachy, but Remy was always an open book when it came to being pissed off. Not that she cared enough to hide it, but right now she was exceptionally uncomfortable, leg bouncing as she sat there, arms now crossed over her chest. "Didn't miss much of this circlejerk history lesson, did I?" [b]"Not much. Take care."[/b] Cyril didn't warn her beyond that, even as the Governer tried settling down over on his other side. [b]"The Gifted haven't formed yet. What happened?"[/b] Pushing out another breath through her teeth, Remy sunk down again at the warning with a scowl on her face. She (thankfully) bit back whatever (vulgar) remark she had in response. "I'm babysitting some depressed teenager who refused to come to the show and made me late. I'm angry." Below, the scene shifted to deep within one of the Rebellion's camps. As Iaim, Kuraihi, Luke, and Strahan strolled through the came, from stage left a small boy with purple clothes and hair trotted into view, with his head down. [b]"I see. These things happen. Don't beat yourself up for it."[/b] "I'm not beating myself up over [i]any[/i]thing." Remy grumbled, digging around her jacket pocket for her flask and uncapping it, taking a long guzzle. Her eyes remained down below just like Cyril, scanning the crowds and the stage. In a way, it wasn't like she was watching the play - instead, she was watching for anything out of the ordinary. Instinct, mostly, to always be watching for danger, especially around the Barcean prince. She pulled her flask from her lips and tucked it away after a decent guzzle. "Everything is fucking bullshit right now. We shouldn't be here at some play. We should be preparing for shit to start hitting the fan. Everything's got me on edge right now." [b]"Oh, does the play not interest you?"[/b] The Governor spoke calmly, her voice almost sweet, and Cyril knew that very suddenly the situation became twice as dangerous. Before Remy could respond the Prince leaned back over towards the Governor, and spoke quickly. [b]"No, that isn't the case at all, Governor. Something unexpected has come up. Please forgive me."[/b] [b]"Something unexpected! I see."[/b] Pursing her lips, the Governor settled back, and Cyril glanced over to Remy. [b]"This is something we have to do."[/b] Down below, the purple boy, who seemed no older that thirteen or fourteen, passed by the larger group. Only Kuraihi stopped originally, looking back as the boy stood in front of a set of targets for archery, with only his blade. The boy drew and swung. Though nothing seemed to happen at first, the targets suddenly burst into purple flame, rapidly crumbling. It was then the rest of the group stopped, while the actor playing Kuraihi turned towards the boy more thoroughly. Biting her tongue - quite literally - Remy seemed to almost growl under her breath, though it might have just been some sort of froggy sigh. Radiating a palpitable, malicious sort of aura, she stared down the Governor with a fire boiling in her veins. Quickly, she looked away, rubbing at her nose again. Finally, she focused on the play enough to take in the sight of a familiar purple head. [i]Cute.[/i] She pushed another breath out, and once more took a drink from her flask. "Do we?" Her voice lowered into a mutter now, one only he could really hear, but obviously one not rationally serious. "I'm not opposed to starting a political crisis..." [b]"I'm not, Remy."[/b] Down below, Kuraihi crouched in front of the boy. [b]"What's your name, kid?"[/b] [b]"Joachim Raizen."[/b] [b]"Interesting."[/b] Tipping her flask to her mouth again, Remy lowered it with a sour look. [i]Empty? Oh, this is just getting better and better and better.[/i] Resisting the urge to crush the thing, she tucked it away instead. She remained silent, now watching the stage again for a longer period of time. Though she seemed sated, her leg was still bouncing and her one hand was gripping the arm rest of her chair in a vice. She fidgeted, and fidgeted some more, restlessness slowly creeping up her spine. "We'll talk about it after." Remy finally said under her breath, the feeling around her becoming less noticeably angered. The Prince nodded a little, before looking down to the play as Kuraihi Linea and Joachim Raizen shook hands. Still, Remy watched, and still her leg bounced. If she weren't wearing gloves, she was sure she would have dug ruts into the cherrywood armrest of her chair - but she didn't. Instead, she spoke again. "I think I'm getting attached." [b]"Attached?"[/b] "Attached. Like... [i]emotionally[/i]." [b]"... Oh."[/b] "Not like - [i]that[/i]! Of course!" Remy rubbed her cheek, the other rested on her fist. "I don't know. I hate this shitty little kid for causing me so much trouble, but... I dunno. I kind'a see me in her sometimes. It's gross. Makes me wanna vom'. Kind'a considering murder." [b]"No Remy."[/b] "It's annoying! I don't just... I mean... I don't just feel like that. And then one day, I see this stupid bitch crying alone in her room, begging me to leave her behind, and I...." Making a face, she slowly sunk in her seat again. "... [i]Care[/i]. Eugh!" He reached over, gently patting her shoulder. [b]"I take it as a good sign."[/b] "I'm too young for kids. Especially teenage brats. I got at least three more years before Cecilia starts asking me when I'm getting married, I think." [b]"Never too young for friends."[/b] "Don't need any friends except you, baby." [b]"I respectfully disagree."[/b] "I disrespect your opinion, as always." Beaming at him, Remy settled in before catching something out of the corner of her eye. Turning her head to the seat next to her sharply, she noticed Kaishu sitting there, dressed in Kyoran robes, all shaded in the colors of dusk. Even her hair was all washed and pulled up. Instead of looking at Remy, she was silently watching the play. Slowly, the Commander leaned away, closer to Cyril as she felt a cold shiver roll up her spine, giving him a look that clearly read: [i]kill me[/i]. At first the Prince blinked, not sure of what was going on. He glanced around, before looking over to the other side of Remy- He almost started laughing. Almost.