[b]Gratia Mindaro - An Old Friend[/B]

"[color=66cd00]Je pense que non. Vous n'étiez pas une bouboule.[/color]"

Gratia twisted the key into the car's ignition, blinking once as the engine roared to life, rumbling with a power that could be felt with every vibration of the vehicle.

"[color=66cd00]Any fucking skinnier and you'd be a kebab skewer,[/color]" she continued, pulling her seat belt across her body and audibly clicking it into place. "[color=66cd00]I'll have to make sure you've been stuffed with enough shitty food to become a fat lard avant le Carême.[/color]"

It did not take one to be Hercule Poirot to identify that there was clearly something wrong with Nuit. That was not particularly surprising, given the torturous conditions she had suffered under while in the grasp of the Dodici. Another slight that the gang of insectoid scum had committed, and another reason for their rapid and painful extermination. They had brought the once-confident Faunus girl low, tore apart her wings and foundations, and systematically ripped away everything that had given the birdbrain some form of comfort or meaning.

That would not happen again.

"[color=66cd00]The plan is not giving them the chance to ask those questions,[/color]" declared Gratia Mindaro clearly and succinctly, her cold and icy tone measured and composed as one would expect from her. "[color=66cd00]They do not need to know that I have either of you in this vehicle.[/color]"

She would ensure that Nuit did not come to any further harm. That was one of the many duties of a bird's wings, after all.

"[color=66cd00]Now,[/color]" continued the Mistralese teenager. "[color=66cd00]I can trust you to be useful and wake up Ms. Vitoria Dodici?[/color]"