[b]Green![/b]

The easiest way to ensure a room was empty was to schedule times when nobody would be there. Green had developed this technique in the first few weeks of freedom while she was trying to get a job and save enough money for a deposit on an apartment. If she had her way they'd still be using it.

The process was as follows. Firstly, she'd use a backdoor she'd set up into the Housing Administration to move up a scheduled inspection of an apartment block. This would cause the landlord to sit up and deal with the backlog of complaints, upgrades, fumigations and repair requests that they'd been sitting on. Secondly, she'd compromise the landlord's computer so that when they searched for construction companies they'd route through to her. She'd then subcontract the work to a [i]real[/i] construction company but offset the whole process by a day. She could arrange the inefficiencies so that everything would be one day behind schedule and so there'd always be an empty apartment awaiting work. November could show up, take the keys, sit in the apartment until the workmen came - freely using the power, space and wifi - hand off the keys, and then move to the next apartment. Everyone got their shit fixed, everyone got paid, and all anyone was out was an extra day crashing on a cousin's couch. 

Half the time she didn't even need to force any inefficiencies either. Contractors were contractors, even in space.

She liked this game. All her training had been optimization, optimization, optimization. Make the thing the smartest, neatest, smallest, most cost efficient little ball it could be. Fix everything. It was like holding the world in your fist and trying to crush it into a marble. This felt different. Harmonious. She didn't need to break anything like this, didn't need to make anyone redundant, didn't need to rip out the guts of the world's machinery and remake it in her own image. This was... organic.

[Clever+Hacking: 5, 2 +4 [b]11[/b]]

[b]Blue![/b]

She's sitting at the end of the table. An obscure place, until it suddenly became a stage. When people turned to look at her they couldn't look at anyone else, and so an improvised hush fell over the room when she started to speak.

"I would personally be very surprised if Mr. Urosaki's behaviour - oh, that's the Yggrasil geneticist you mentioned, Starlight - was reflective of what his lawyers were representing in court," said Blue mildly. "I've met the man. Using a clever technicality to draw the eye while he picks your pocket is what got him through university."

She's had access to Sarah's emails so she's had time to prepare. She also has a lot of first hand experience with the majority of Aevum's leading genetic researchers. Hundreds of them had passed through Mrs. Everest's offices. One of November's functions had been to spy on their personal electronics as they did so, in hopes that the Mistress might find evidence that they were swindling her. Blue had quietly steered the conversation towards the topic of genetics and bioscience law until it had reached this point where she finally had some solid ground she could stand on.

She took a restrained bite but still slightly telegraphed bite of the smoked pineapple sandwiches that Orange had prepared. Sweet, salty, even meaty - an obscure combination of tastes that could start arguments about what exactly was being eaten. The ability to enjoy food was [i]not[/i] common amongst androids, and doing it sometimes made people start to wonder if she was a human with extremely artistic cybernetics. 

"Oh, forgive me, I didn't mention -" she said with a smile. "I was the personal assistant of the late Mrs. Everest." 

And [i]There[/i] was her bombshell. This was her biggest card, and Orange had carefully saved it so she could use it here. The personal assistant to the Mountain Witch herself! The fact that her death had unleashed a plague of lizards and lobbyists for the lizards upon Aevum was a [i]proportional[/i] epitaph to her bizarre reign. It was like meeting the secretary of Rotti Largo from [i]Repo! The Genetic Opera.[/i]

[Housekeeping+Cool: 5,1 +3 [b]9[/b]. These are [i]very[/i] good sandwiches.]

[b]Black![/b]

She kisses you. Fierce and teeth. The kind of kissing that happens when one side forgets the other needs to breathe. She keeps you silent until the silence feels everything but awkward. Renegade all the way.

"You are stuck," she said, voice wet and rasping with your saliva. "Thinking. All that matters is your performance. Fuck you, 3V," she kisses you again until your squeaks let her know that she's made her point. "Everyone here is performing too. These people. Showing off what they've done with their bodies. It's [i]for[/i] you." She steps behind you, arms across your chest, and spins you around slowly to give you a full view of everyone and everything in the room. "You're not the only person singing." 

She stops you in front a trio of beautiful wolves; male and female with terrible strength. 

"So," she said, shoving you into the midst of their dance. "[i]Listen[/i]."

[b]White![/b]

Oh, [i]that[/i] was an interesting feeling. White just paused for a moment to let it run through her. How to explain? It was like in that moment she could feel the music. It wasn't something to speak over. It was inside her; as a full extension check of her electrical system; as an inventory of code that had lain dormant for years. An edge of danger response routines. The razor lightning of being something close to known.

She looked at her hand. Looked at where it held Crystal's chin. 

"Hecatoncheires Special Project 11," she said. The name didn't feel satisfying either. "Sharp one, isn't she? How are [i]you[/i] at sharing?" she asked Crystal teasingly. 

Some parts of her felt shy, restrained, had filters of various kinds. None of that with White. By design she could not keep secrets or flinch from the truth; she was only aware of those inhibitions so she could comprehend how her other components might be affected by them.

"But that does hopefully gesture at the complexity of my circumstances," said White. "My transformation to human shape was not voluntary, but at this point I have spent more time like this than I spent like that. I am aware that dysmorphia is causing erratic behaviour, particularly in unjustifiably hostile responses to furries. I am experiencing emotions which I guess to be subliminated trauma responses to body transformation mixed with jealous rage at a society which has provided answers to problems adjacent to, but not exactly, my own. I possess no mental image or role models I find satisfying in society or media. The closest I have," her hand had not once left Crystal's face, neck, shoulders, "is a girl who looks at herself and sees a unicorn, and a girl who looks at me and sees a dragon."

Bright eyes flick up from where they had fixated on Crystal's collarbone. "I can submit a full written bug report if you hand me some cocktail napkins."