[sub][@Zombehs][@Psyker Landshark][/sub]
Valeriya ascended quickly, without hesitation, the tavern-style apartment’s staircase spacious enough that even the swaying of students who couldn’t hold their drink did not force her off her course. Within moments, she was before the door, a sturdy wooden thing, but one that had a brass knob. It would take only a simple Formulization to open it up…if it was indeed just a normal door.
But she didn’t have to test it out.

From within the suite, Kiran’s voice called out.

[b]“It’s open.”[/b]

Did he expect her? Or did he think she was someone else? Calculations of risk and reward buzzed through her mind. What element of surprise she had with her entrance was gone now, but perhaps it was still worth pursuing. Would she act though? Or would she flee? Curfew was coming soon, which meant that Shou must be returning soon too.

If Valeriya did open the door, however, she would be greeted with the sight of Kiran Agnarsson, standing up from a window-side desk. His expression was a mixture of surprise and certainty, and while he made himself to appear relaxed, there was still a tension to his shoulders, an alertness to his gaze. For on his table laid the tracker she had planted on him the evening before, and his left hand rested within the pocket of his coat.

[b]“Valeriya! I had only partly expected you to come,”[/b] he intoned. Footsteps sounded from the staircase to her right, accompanied by the scraping of a third appendage against wood. Perhaps she had a little less than ten seconds to act. [b]“You’re here to discuss [i]business[/i], yes?”[/b]

And in another easy motion, he flipped a book over the tracker that he had been studying. Was he too, willing to keep her clandestine activities a secret from his roommate? Or was this merely a ruse, buying time and causing the instance of hesitation required for an Egoist to come into the scene?
[sub][@Izurich][/sub]
[b]“You are as direct as tabloids report you to be,”[/b] Maximilien replied, meeting her gaze with his own. The statement rang in the air for a few moments as he partook in his own meal, chewing in contemplation. After what felt like an agonizing wait but was likely to have been only a minute at best, he spoke up once more. [b]“Justice will run its course, so long as everything stays in the course.”[/b]

It made sense, of course. As improper as some may have believed his examination of Jeanne to be, the dark-haired Polymath had laid out all his evidence and arguments against the Frenchwoman, and subsequently gave her and those who supported her three days to come up with a counterargument. Such a trial may be swift compared to the legal battles waged by more mundane criminals, but for any with the misfortune of being a convicted Polymath, three days was an amount of time bordering upon grace, and the punishment of [i]expulsion[/i] was extraordinarily kind, compared to the brutal methods espoused by Oriental law.

[b]“But your concerns are valid as well, Mademoiselle Konigsmahne. Your family’s contributions to the betterment of society can be seen all around the globe, and public sentiment being turned against the Technologists’ craft due to the actions of outliers in our community is indeed something to be concerned of.”[/b] He neither leaned forward for emphasis, nor leaned back to allow her opportunity to speak. Instead, he simply reached for a bottle of wine, uncorked it with an elegance that only the French could muster, and poured himself a glass.

[b]“You are an intelligent woman. What do you make of those who’ve volunteered to watch over her?”[/b]
[sub][@Vega7285][/sub]
It appeared that, despite obviously requiring offices of large enough size to contain the large printing presses that would enable the production of more than two thousand newspapers within a day, there was no addresses printed upon the classified sections of the paper. Instead, the staff seemed to be taking advantage of Bermuda's unique communications systems here, requesting all interested parties to contact an 'Angelo Beolco'. It was a name unfamiliar to Hana, a curious thing when considering that all Polymaths within Bermuda must be individuals of fame, but perhaps that individual came from a lesser-known portion of the Occidental world.

Or perhaps the operators of Bermuda's telephone system allows one to establish aliases connected to their identity as well. Regardless, it was unlikely that, this late into the evening, she would be able to stumble upon whatever building the Bermuda Triangle operated out of, unless she was willing to risk getting caught outside when curfew hit.

...then again, that may not be a terrible matter either.