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@Tuujaimaa Shiori seems fine with me, you're good.
I'll update the cast list later, and maybe try to get some new peeps in the RP. idk

About bloody time.
@Monochromatic Rainbow@Zombiedude101 Hay guys, planning on posting soon?

Ask and ye shall receive.
“Everyone. Get your asses to the Bridge...”

Whilst the others had been making their way to the bridge, Iosif had been seated there the whole time, enjoying the (relative) comfort of working in his own space. Even when Drono had rested an arm back against his own seat, he'd not deigned to move - he had something to say, clearly, but Iosif figured he could hear it well enough when the drell was right behind him, somber tone and all. He looked worse for wear than usual, that much was clear - none of the jovial, sardonic demeanour he'd seen before. It was funny, really - this was the first time he'd sell the one drell on their ship actually conveying himself as one would expect of his species.

True to thoughts, Drono pointed this out in his next couple of words, before going on to explain that his... condition, was worsening. It wasn't necessarily fear he picked up in the drell's tone, but there was that gloomy, almost accepting tone that he'd seen (or at least heard of) with the older, traditionalist generations of drell whom spent more time around the hanar.

The next line that he heard, however, did manage to get Iosif to pivot in his seat, shifting his gaze towards Drono with an inquisitive expression. “The salarian who did this to me, is named Yestin. He was my partner in crime, back during my smuggling days. He left me to die” It rang a personal chord with him, not least because of the fact that this salarian had also happened to be a treacherous partner. “After putting bullet in my spine. And when I asked him why, he dumped a nerve toxin into the wound.” Iosif's jaw tightened a little at that, a hint of disgust becoming clear on his face. When it came to heinous acts of betrayal, the slavic pilot saw little difference between selling a man off to the fucking batarians and poisoning him instead of finishing the job with a clean shot through the brain stem. Both equally deplorable, both equally deserving of retribution.

He certainly didn't blame Drono for wanting, no, promising to exact some form of violent revenge. In fact, for a second he pictured himself with both of his fingers tightened around the salarian's throat, or perhaps him venting a hole in the treacherous bastard's skull, or something equally violent but nontheless cathartic. It made no difference - for Drono, or Iosif, both salarians were far off somewhere else, out of reach for now.

In the meantime, Drono continued - explaining that his condition was dire and that perhaps the only people who were both able and willing to assist him were in danger at the hands of people who were probably associated with the drell's former partner. Not just an obstacle to Drono's understandable desire to stay alive, but also an obstacle to any hope he might've had at enacting revenge and here, even though Iosif had never particularly gotten to know the drell as well as he had with some of the other crew, he felt a personal need to help his colleague in this plight. so he might have had a shot at the same kind of retribution that he wished to enact upon his own treacheous salarian partner.

Of course, the others were quick to raise their concerns - and they were legitimate concerns. Eclipse weren't exactly the kind of people you wanted to be screwing around with, even if you were only dealing with just a few of their guys, the mercenary organisation didn't take too kindly to attacks on its resources - it didn't send out the best message, after all, if they were seen to be tolerating attacks on their people. Following Tanya and Tonka's comments on needing to be better prepared than their previous shitshow missions, Dex was on-point. Sometimes, it was easy for Iosif to forget that on top of being a competent pilot, his counterpart was arguably the most experienced at cloak-and-dagger type operations than the rest of them combined.

Haze had also been of similar consensus to Dex, also arguing in favour of a subtle, stealth-based approach. Iosif had to stifle an amused snort when Haze pitched the idea of using Vellios in his already fucked up state as part of their cover, if only because he wondered how the fatalistic turian would take the idea of being volunteered for such duty and whether he'd play ball with them on this one. In this case, there wouldn't be any room for mental breakdowns or relapses - Drono's life and the reputation (and future wellbeing) of their crew would be weighing on this. Then, much to the slav's surprise, Khosin had offered up some information in this matter as well - being a batarian, Iosif wasn't too surprised to hear he had some contacts with the Blue Suns, but if anything they might have had to say proved useful it would be worth the while. For perhaps the first time, Iosif gave the batarian a brief look that suggested something other than mild contempt or apathy.

Perhaps the first question that Iosif wanted to raise was just where he'd play a part in this. Given they were actively trying to avoid being flagged on Eclipse's shitlist, he'd probably have been better off going for something that would facilitate a subtle role, rather than the guns-blazing shuttle evac he'd conducted on their last mission. "Dex, if you're better off working remotely from the ship, I can live with that - I can run transport for this job. I'm not exactly the cloak-and-dagger type but I can keep my mouth shut if that's what this needs."

Regal Square, Prince-Edfield_

Reed couldn't help but fire off a retort at Meifeng's amused jeering, "Yeah, sure - but the American taxpayer doesn't pay us to stand around and rehearse our lines, we leave that to the politicians, remember?" However, by the time he'd finished that last remark, the RAVEN was already outside the range of coherent hearing. She wasn't wrong, though. Granted, he couldn't help but crack a wry grin at Meifeng's commentary on his oratory skills, but it was true - he felt that he'd probably only just got through it. With the time he'd spent fawning over what he'd say at the rally, in hindsight he felt it was something of a shame that he didn't spend it on something more productive.

Still, he'd tried - and perhaps there were a few people in the crowd who were actually cheering for legitimate reasons rather than just for the sake of it.

Now on his mind, much to his own shame, was something more base in nature - the various food stalls situated outside the hall. Even in here, Reed swore that he could pick up just a slight aroma from something just around the corner and were it not for the fact that he was expected to remain in the hall that RAVEN had hired out for the event, he would've probably given into the the temptation to head out and help himself to a portion. Furthermore, he was now paying dearly for having gone into work on a light breakfast and later skipping lunch in order to prepare for the rally. His only hope now was that he could rope someone into picking something up for him before the stalls ran dry.

Where was Quentin when he needed him?

DOVE/RAVEN Joint Headquarters, White Coast_

After a journey across the Atlantic, then what felt like a trip of equal length across the United States, the last thing that Frank had wanted to do was spend the next hour or so seated in the reception area of the DOVE/RAVEN HQ Building, his baggage leant against
the wall beside him. Aside from getting to witness a brief argument between an athletic-figured gentleman and a receptionist (which was subsequently defused by a dark-haired asian in RAVEN garb) there wasn't much he could do, though to his slight relief, one of the other receptionists on-duty had taken pity on the sight of the Briton's welling boredom and passed a few copies of the local newspapers his way, giving him something to read through as he awaited news of what would next be done with him. At the least, it gave him a chance to get a rough idea of anything noteworthy going on in the city - and what did catch his eye were a few references to some new high on the streets, "Happiness" or something like that. He couldn't help but feel a strange sense of deja vu from about a decade and a half ago in the UK when the legal highs (derived from a mixture of 'plant fertilisers' and other ingredients of obscure legal status) craze hit the media and sparked off a frenzy in the tabloids.

Not like there were any similarities between the two.

Eventually, Frank's reading session was interrupted by another DOVE employee - an agent, albeit one with a desk job by the looks of his office garb. "I believe you wanted to speak with me, Mr. Marshall?"

"So, Agent..." Frank began, leaning forward to get a view of the man's ID badge.
"Agent Gardiner, do you have a rough idea of when I'll be getting to see someone? If you don't mind me saying, I've come a long way and I'd rather get a chance to speak with the leadership before the jet lag sinks in."

"I understand, really, but a slight complication hascome up," Gardiner began, albeit a little uncomfortably, "You've arrived slightly earlier than we expected, Mr. Marshall - and I'm afraid Director Taylor is currently at the rally in Prince-Edfield, along with Deborah Javaunt."

"Rally?" Frank raised an eyebrow, before recalling the numerous news articles he'd filtered through which had made reference to said rally. Then, after a moment, came an "Oh."

"I see, well.. in that case, I suppose I'm probably not going to get a real chance to sit down with the Director until tomorrow then, right?"

"I can't say for certain, but the chance is that you'll be more likely to have an official brief tomorrow or the day after." At least the agent was honest, Frankhad to give him that, but still. Americans, he almost felt himself monologuing, before realising he was being a little hypocritcal in his observation - sitting around and waiting in queues was, after all, a favourite British pass time, even in this era of metahumans and societal unrest.

Of course, the grim thoughts on the news that he wouldn't be getting an audience with any form of authority today must've set on his face, judging by the hasty response from Gardiner. "I've spoken with my supervisor, we have had some accomodation set aside for yourself, Mr. Marshall, it's an apartment in the Oakdell Harbour district, already furnished - you won't need to concern yourself about any expenses in that respect. Likewise for groceries, we actually had it stocked with the basics this morning - and I'm aware that there's a store close by or even a restaurant if that's your preference."

That was good to hear, at least - no point spending money on some grotty little hotel or sleeping in an office. He definitely liked the idea of a restaurant close by - even after the hot dog at the airport, he was hungry for a little more sustenance. "If you don't mind me asking, what kind of place is it?"

"It's a chinese buffet, I know a friend who went there a few weeks ago and he said it was good - maybe you might want to stop by?"

Maybe indeed, I did fancy a Chinese, Frank thought, a thin smile forming upon his lips.
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