It takes her a while to answer. She doesn't open her eyes or lift her head off of Slate's lap, except occasionally for the tiniest bit necessary to sip on her refreshed drink. It's good. She'd considered that it might have simply been a consequence of post-combat nutrient deficiency, but no. This is well and truly delicious, how had she never come across it before? What other secrets was her engineering team hiding from her?

She snorts, and lets her head turn to the side so that she's facing Slate directly, and all she'd need to do is open her eyes to drink in the view of her. She does not. She stays still, eyes held gently shut, and allows their paw to glide through her hair and soothe her. Still no response. Her mind is busy with the knot of her fight with Solarel. She reconstructs it from the opening move, her every decision and response. The timing of her inputs and the quality of her move selection. Her lip twitches as she reaches the shutdown.

There is no visual element to her recreation. It's a play-by-play of a data stream, words taking the place of every single sense and simply echoing in the void inside of her. This is necessary. When she takes the sensory data onto a neural weave later, the reconstruction exercise will give her the context she needs to absorb it without overload or breakdown. Everything that pushed her to explore alternative systems in the first place would invert, and she would finally, [i]finally[/i] understand what Solarel was saying. If only for a minute. Had her rewire preserved enough power to core systems for her to be able to experience the sensation of total shutdown? Her heartbeat races at the question.

"I might fire you someday, Slate," Mirror says without a hint of playfulness or irony, "But I will never replace you."

She feels a paw suddenly catch in her hair as it seizes up in a moment of panic sudden enough that it can't quite be disguised or converted back into the rhythmic stroking fast enough to cover it. For three glorious seconds, that hand can't decide if it wants to pull away (and risk pulling Mirror's hair hard enough to cause pain), simply sit there (and let Mirror feel how bad it's shaking), or escalate (oh, would you dare, Slate?). She feels the pressure of a thumb suddenly rubbing circles at the base of her ear. Mirror grins from ear to ear, delighted and toothier than a shark.

"Even, now. But I'm serious. The day we're unfit to work together is the day I destroy our Nine-Tails. I will never pilot another craft for as long as I live."

"But, uh, n-not today. Right Boss?"

"...Inevitable discovery," Mirror sighs softly as fingers start playing on the base of her neck in a brazen display of escalation, "That's what you mean to tell me. I made a mistake. It may only be a single observer perhaps, but the fact that the possibility can't be discounted means that one or more persons or factions will make the connection. Sabotage means [i]somebody[/i] saw inside my-- it means that. Somebody. Saw. Understanding irrelevant. Offhand conversation over drinks will be final confirmation for our mystery observer."

Mirror cracks one eye open, cold and furious. The water in her iris looks almost frozen. She grabs her drink and loudly slurps the rest of it down to nothing. She licks her lips with a lot more passion than is necessary.

"Order a meal, please. For each of us. Your selection, my money. You know interesting flavors. Furthermore, continuing, your assertion is that we have minimal control over the nature of discovery. We cannot 'get in front of the narrative', as they say. [Fang to Feather (Negative Conjunction)]. If we speak out or make a move to contain the flow of information we reveal that we, that I am interested in hiding something. If we do not complain publicly about the act, we invite tournament level scrutiny. So you see? Our wrists are bound tight. We can only aid in the detective work. Either, broadcast all heretofore undisclosed details of Mira of the Fisher Clan, Whose Star Name is Whispered Promise, or else..."

"...Inevitable discovery." Slate finishes with a heavy sigh and a wince she can't keep out of her thigh muscles.

"Cannot know the nature of the discoverer. Not enough information to even guess. Maybe it will only be a curiosity to them. Maybe they will use it as a weapon. Maybe they will ask for help. No way to tell. Saying that? Still useful conclusion. Listen to the river feed into the lake, Selin Makers. We will want to know who knows, and ideally as they know it."

"C-could you, ah? Not use that name in front of the girls?"

"You would prefer I used it in bed?"

"BOSS!!!"