[b]Set![/b]

The vast hall is hexagonal, with multiple covered booths surrounding a shared space in the open; balconies open up above the booths, allowing for a middle ground between visibility and privacy. (After all, the booths are only for those who make the necessary arrangements or agreements. Some are even rented by the half hour.) The space is dominated by a statue of Ishtar herself, flanked by two muzzled Lionesses. (If you squint, and ignore the number of legs, the animals really do look like they'd be at home on the savannah.) On one side, the hall opens up onto a garden, the pertinent features of which are the arena and a lovely maze garden.

You can't see Marianne (which might be a good thing?) but you do see that the security at the doors into the temple is being quietly reinforced; it's possible that some paranoid noble is worried about the Phantom Thieves ruining their perfect event, or it could be a move in a social game, but it still sends a worried shiver down your spine. This is a [i]bigger[/i] target than you've hit before, and things need to go just right.

When you're worried about things, when you feel anxious or stressed, what teachings do you draw upon; how do you steady yourself?

***

[b]Canada![/b]

Certain. Sure. You leave Asterion to yell at you to come back, don't you [i]dare[/i], when I get out of here, Mountie...

Pretty soon it's just the noise of her voice, too muddled to make out clearly, as you prep yourself to go up and face who knows what in the arena. Do you take any of the weapons arrayed here? Do you present yourself clearly as Canada, the superheroine, the Great Betrayer? And does the sound of a great metallic [i]clang[/i] down the hallway cause you to hurry at all?

***

[b]Étoile![/b]

The Annunaki are preening, puffed-up songbirds half the time, aren't they? Do a little bit of patter, compliment them shamelessly, and they look right past or through you, noticing only the compliments, the appreciation, the attention. You defused the risk of offense expertly by bringing up the offer for tea at her discretion, modeled your daring outfit well (but keep it up, make sure she sees only the outfit and the flash of gold), and asked the sort of silly, servile questions she'd expect from an properly-trained handmaiden.

Keep singing her praises, like [i]Bilbon Sacquet[/i] in the dragon's lair, and she'll drop her guard completely, and that's when Marianne can strike.

"Tell her to give the tributes to you, Zimut," she says, again addressing her herald, "and to [i]finish[/i] her questions. It does not become one of her station on the Great Chain to offer flawed and incomprehensible requests." Don't worry, she's just negging you to put you in your place, and to get you to spit it out. You're getting very close to the opportune moment. Keep swaying, little cobra, and this songbird will be entranced.