[color=8dc73f]"Ohh, friends of battle! How poetic!"[/color] Medaira exclaimed, having heard hte story of how the Celestian and the Farseer apparently came to be together in a team in the heat of war and survival! And what a story it was, worthy of an imperial scribe writing it down and turning it into a reading for the ages! Truly the marvels of the world knew no bounds! She even started humming a song while browsing the menus!"[color=8dc73f] Ohh look, a very well ages wine! It would go perfectly with a nice steak!"[/color] She said to herself, seemingly ignoring Adrianne's suspicions and questions for the Farseer, until she wasn't anymore and actually spoke out. [color=8dc73f]"To be perfectly fair, Prank Friend Maya's presence isn't without precedent to begin with."[/color] She stated, pulling over another page of the menu.[color=8dc73f]" A numerious imperial forces have worked, work and will continue to work with varying xenos, no offence intended by the term. It happens often enough if you look for it. Some factions more often than not, in fact I've heard that a lot of rogue traders employ non humans in their crew and nobody really bats an eye... ohh roasted chicken. And we are kind of above most regulations anyways." [/color]She spoke, randomly exclaiming on the food in the middle of her sentence." Prank Friend Maya, do your people have similar dishes?" She asked with curiosity, before turning her attention to Stukov and raising a well trimmed and maintained white eyebrow. She returned her attention to the menu once more as she listened to his little tyrade about the eldar. Then began humming a tune that to a person many millenia ago during hte world of old Terra would recognize as the memorable melody of 'London Bridge is Falling Down'. In fact to those who were REALLY trying to listen, they might even hear a very quiet jolly lyrics being sung presumably by her servo skull while she was making hte melody. [color=8dc73f][i]'Months of Shame are going down. — Shame is won, and no bright renown. Shields resounding, War-horns sounding, Wolves are shouting in the din! bolters singing, power-coats ringing — The Omnisiah makes our Wolves win!'[/i][/color] Now where had Medaira gotten that data from only Medaira knows, but tech priests and priestesses tended to know things when others didn't. [color=8dc73f]"Let's be honest here, Prank Victim Friend Stukov, the Imperium has a staggering death toll from internal causes in all major conflicts too. Common defense practice is collapsing defense for hte guard, which consist of shelling our own battlelines as the guardsmen are trying to retreat to the next set of trenches and it gets even worse from there. So we can't rightly blame the xenos for everything. We can probably blame the C - words though. They are not possible prank friends!"[/color] Medeira quipped.[color=8dc73f]" Nobody's stopping you from being paranoid though! It's in your job description! In all our job descriptions~! You are doing greaaaAAAAAAAT~!!!"[/color] Then she turned to the Celestian.[color=8dc73f]" I'm thinking a fine aged red wine, a well made beef(ish) steak. What about you, Celestian Boss Lady friend Andromedai~?"[/color]