[center][img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/515585004693094423/564401330156863499/dartheader.png[/img]

[hr][h2]Latin District, Hotel Workshop[/h2][/center][hr]
Idiot!? Worthless!?!? LESS than worthless!?!?!?!?!?! Such a rapid fire attack without warning simply could not be defended against.  D’Art fell to the floor in an agonizing wince, clutching at her chest all the way down. 

With a shaky raspy voice alike a man on death’s door she replied. “[color=6ecff6]Milady please…-[/color]” She cut herself off to spring up and provided the previously offered handkerchief, before throwing herself back to the ground to resume as if she had not been cut off at all. “[color=6ecff6]...-your words wound me deeper than you can know, were I not blinded by your beauty-..[/color]”Another sudden stopping off, as she nodded to each of the others in turn, smiling ear to ear and with a twinkle in her eye, “[color=6ecff6]- And your beauty, and your beauty, and of course last but not least your beauty-...[/color]” Annnd back to the wince. “[color=6ecff6]...then I would have flawlessly assessed the situation without pause. Indeed it is not my shortcomings my sweet, but your own unearthly loveliness!... And yours, and you-[/color]” 

It would take a moment to get her back on her feet and properly attentive of the actual situation proper, once the rapid fire flattery had run its course. In the end, D’Artagnan left the apartment and hit the streets with Diana on her arm and the others in tow, all the while swearing up and down that her choice had been at random and based in no sort of favoritism whatsoever as they would all get a turn before the night was up. 

Things would get a little easier once she worked out the proper schedule to give all the girls an even amount of attention, afterall she was a ladies man, but for tonight they’d have to wing it.
 
[hr][center][i][b]Heading out into the Latin District Proper, with her hunnies~♡[/b][/i] [@ssw][/center][hr][center][img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/515585004693094423/564870123899584512/miraiheader.png[/img]

[hr][h2]Canal District, City of Science and Industry Museum[/h2][/center][hr]
Mirai was taking this far worse than she appeared, as  it was something quite entirely dreadful to have your life’s work, no rather generations of work, be seen as something of a pet project that was nothing more than a good base to work off of. Of course she knew that such an appraisal coming from this person of all possible people was nothing short of honest, his craft was the absolute pinnacle which no one would reach again in this age of dying mystery, but this did little to assuage her anger. 

His charms on the other hand did, and in abundance. Not his handsome face and apparent devil may care attitude that had planted his head in her lap before she could even think to refuse him, but the literal charms that he wrote into being as she watched. For the skilled craftsman there was nothing quite so mesmerizing as watching a job well done, which was several orders of magnitude removed from the effortless and fascinating perfection with which Caster worked. 

Indeed Her ire at being confronted with her own inferiority was in fact subdued almost entirely by her satisfaction in the superb status of her summoning, a blessing far greater than she could have ever begun to anticipate. Even just existing in the same workshop as him as he worked was enough to improve her technique by the end of the seven days they would spend together, nevermind if she actually made an effort to learn from him.

In fact so swiftly and precisely did he work that there was little she could do to even assist despite his flattering of her role in it. So with things as they were she busied her hands with what would otherwise be totally menial work that was usually quite entirely beneath her, except the one that stroked at his hair and played with his ears. Four others moved in perfect concert, providing fresh paper, moving that which carried the wet ink of fresh charms, fanning the ink dry, and folding the finished charms into a neat stack when dried.Indeed despite the relaxed nature of their leisurely postures they had become something of a living assembly line.

The fifth hand seized the future, as if to answer Caster’s question. Not in the literal sense, but rather it seized one of the threads hanging as it began to glow and hum. Her eyes closed for a second, lashes fluttering and settling heavily before flying wide.

“[color=a187be]I had planned on stroking your ears all night, but it seems we have some rather unsightly neighbors.[/color]” She spoke with a definite tone of disdain, and after giving his head a few more pats she rose rather unceremoniously despite his place in her lap. “[color=a187be]Come Caster, we must teach them that the inelegance of such creatures will not be tolerated in my territory without swift retribution.[/color]” 

She grabbed her parasol, tucked four of her six arms deep into her kimono, and opened the door. “[color=a187be]Let us make haste now. The sooner it is done and over with the sooner we can begin proper preparations- and return to giving you the attention you’ve no doubt sorely missed in this last millennia.[/color]” 
[hr][@Player 2]