Adrianne walked down from the stairs, commenting that male Psykers typically enjoyed having larger staves. Especially the younger sort. Zhevon cracked a little smile, remembering his own childhood when he tried to lift a hefty two-handed sword. She then explained that she accepted Stukov under her wing. This also pleased Zhevon. Adrianne then said that it would take time to requisition a personalized force weapon for him. While normally it may takes entire months maybe years for someone to requisition such a weapon from the Mechanicus due to paperwork, queues and other various reasons, Zhevon had a fair amount of friends in the Mechanicus. And a few favors they owed each other. Zhevon put a bit of thought into it, and he came to the conclusion that it wasn't unreasonable to place an order for a force weapon personalized to Stukov and have it arrive within a few weeks, depending on the urgency, maybe even one week. But for now one of Adriannes old pieces would have to do. 

[b]"If you need anything, equipment, supplies, commodities, ask and I will get it for you."[/b] He offered, [b]"This also extends to you too."[/b] Nodding towards Aviza, [b]"Within reason. My friends in the Mechanicus would raise a few eyebrows if I started to ask for several Thunderhammers, eight Baneblades and twenty Leman Russes."[/b] He got up, and stretched a bit, [b]"I think I know what to do in these eight hours."[/b] He turned and left the safehouse, bringing his sword.

For these eight hours, Zhevon was a surprisingly busy man. He had left and reentered the safehouse numerous times, each time bringing back a wrapped gift of various size, or a cardboard box. Once, he entered holding a single candle jar. Stopping in the middle of the safehouse, looking at it, then left with it still in hand, only to come back with four candle jars in his hands. After spending some time ferrying numerous boxes and gifts, piling them in an empty space in the room. He then dusted the bookcases, and added several books to the small library. He placed his sword on the coffee table across from where Aviza was lounging on the couch and disappeared into a dark side room. Seconds after he came out with numerous more swords, all unsheathed, caked in dirt, blood and... Whatever else stained their steel. He went back into the room. This time carrying an assortment of hatchets and axes. A third time, carrying a variety of small sword and dagger. All of them as dirty as the last. With all of them laid out on the table, with their scabbards and sheaths on the floor next to the table, Zhevon went to get a cleaning kit and went to work. Expertly and tenderly cleaning and tending to each weapon as if they were his own children. After each one had been cleaned, they would be placed in their respective sheaths and placed next to Zhevons own sword. Finally, it was time to maintain his own sword. He unsheathed it and checked if there was any edge damage, sure that there was none, he began to clean and oil it.

It was then there was a knock on the door. Aviza nearly fell off the couch, and essentially sprinted up the stairs. The door opened, revealing the Canoness that had provided them with support before. He greeted the Canoness Superior and made a final check on the huge array of melee weapons that was laid out in front of them. In the meantime, the Canoness went to the dinner table and set up her briefing. Aviza appeared, saluting. Then getting permission to sit down at the table. She had changed into her armor with surprising speed.
[b]“Evening Celestrian Aviza, as I said I would return to personally brief the retinue on this mission, and will do so once everyone arrives and takes a seat. This assignment has taken an intriguing turn and has become much more important.”[/b] The Canoness informed the two present.
[i]An intriguing turn?[/i] Zhevon thought, he sat down. It wasn't long before Adrianne appeared, with a new plasma pistol and a large box. Then Stukov, looking not dead, which was good.
Adrianne greeted her apprentice, and asked if he had rested well.
Meanwhile Zhevon was in deep contemplation about this development on the mission. A glaring issue that likely, only he could see. They were going to a party, and he didn't remember how to dance. He silently wished he had paid more attention to his mothers lessons when he was a younger man.