Hmph. Irritating, the degree to which people never think through the ramifications of a thing. Order after order after order, no specifications to speak of. Ridiculous. Absurd. Did no one realize the cost of an endeavor like this? Clearly not.

To be certain nobody who saw her show, saw Mayze's show, and [i]understood[/i] would know how to ask for a dress that was made just for them. They weren't meant to, even having a flower in mind was silly, unnecessary, extra information from people more worried about seeming connected than they were with getting the piece that actually fit them. Certainly, little sillyheads, you may have precisely the petals you were dreaming of. Bravo to you for thinking you know what those are. You might even be right! But that's not at issue, here.

While asking her what flowers you wanted your dresses grown from, did it occur to a single one of you that these dresses would, in fact, be grown from flowers? To spec?? Was she [i]unclear[/i] about the way this process worked? And despite this, not a single prospective client shared their measurements and dimensions. Fools, what made you think that listed dress size was enough? This is not a factory. Every mannequin needed to be built in exact replica of the client. Now she'd need to reverse engineer it from publicly available photos! Idiots!

...As soon as she finishes reading it, she deletes the Chrysanthemum mail. No actionable information. Ok, you're mysterious, so what? Goodbye, see you again later. Next time bring a degree of trackable mystery and you might actually get her attention. As things stand there's too many other puzzles to solve and this is too likely to fizzle into something useless. Pass. Next was Charon. Flowers for the underworld, is it? Difficult to know where to begin with that. Maybe she could... no, getting ahead of things here. This isn't the place to get wrapped up in design work. Play later, Mira. Mayze Szerpaws has no place in a forge. 

Maelia Dala, though. Well that [i]was[/i] a mystery worth exploring. If only for stress relief. Best to respond after a delay with clarifying questioning, tease out the details of the person behind the order. If this was some flustered assistant assuming the big name designer would only work with names she recognized... well. Again, the dress must be made to a person's [i]exact[/i] body shape, or there'd be no point to making it at all. And if it was the great scientist after all? That would be its own sort of fun. Perhaps it would behoove her to assume this was straightforward after all? It would let her get to the design process faster, and... mm. Mm. More distractions. Flag it, put it aside.

Which left Adriana Teresio. Grand Queen of the human world. This one at least was easy to understand. She'd watched the show seen Mayze's work, and like everyone else cut straight past her attempts at expression and jumped to the big showstopper piece. Fair enough. But this one goes a step farther. Strict directions, but unlimited sanction. To 'avoid restricting the designer's creativity', that would be the public reasoning. Stupid. Anyone could see what this really was: a challenge. A slap in the face. This woman was daring her to be bold beyond any of her previous designs. Adriana Teresio thought she was a woman without flaws to highlight. You will learn, Human Queen. You will learn. She was serious when she offered to overthrow the Zaldarian Empire for Solarel, do not think yourself safer. Hmph.

It's a lot to think about, all at once. So it surprises her when she stops tuning out the pounding of the hammer and is greeted with a Hybrasilian face. Mattara... Swimmer, is it? Eight Cigni? Oh, how curious! A hybrid!

"A Worlder, working this far out? Fascinating. Truly. Mira Fisher, Whispered Promise. I am... not a customer. Not looking to buy. I don't want your services. My team is adequate. I will wait, if I must. Oh, to clarify: I seek information. Expertise, if you don't mind. My [Partner] was sabotaged recently, while my hangar was staffed. Allegedly. I simply want to understand how this is possible."

The look of disappointment on Matty's face hits like a knife in Mirror's neck. Tch. Hffff. Shocking. Irritating. She's so overwhelmed by the aura suddenly hitting her in the face that she almost hands back the ginger beer without comment. She also almost reaches into her pockets for some way to pay for it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop making that face. You knew what you were doing when you came out here to work, what made you think you'd see another cat looking to let you tinker with her life's work? You could not have recognized her, could you Matty? Or you would triply never have [i]dared[/i] to..!

She blinks. Her eyes wander across the expansive hall, as they might have on their own. But this time, it's a retreat from [i]that face[/i]. What she sees pulls her breath from her. She takes a loud sip of the ginger beer before she realizes what she's doing. Cold, mostly bitter, but a little bit pleasantly tingling and sweet. Not sweet like Slate's drink was, just barely enough to stimulate. And relax. Ahhhh. Home is so very, very far away. Isn't it? 

What a. Fascinating place. The workings of nanobots are inscrutable. Bleeding edge tech to use them so specifically, if she understands Zaldar even a little bit. And she flatters herself to think she does. But the hammer blows ring in her ears, making them flinch and flatten, making her heart pound faster and faster to keep up with the rhythm. Archaic techniques guiding modern advancements. Here as well. Here... as well.

Is that what makes her pulse constrict so much it hurts? Is that what makes the guilt crawl over here like ten thousand prickling needles? Is that what makes her finish her drink so recklessly fast? Is it why she almost hands the glass back as if to dare to ask for another one? Is that why? Is that? What face is she making? Why is Matty looking back at her?

Mirror swallows. Her face feels hot. She wipes it with the back of her wrist. She leans closer, gestures for Matty to lean in with her. And she surprises herself when she starts to whisper:

"I do, actually. Have work I need done. There are parts I cannot produce myself. Outside consultation to finalize the design. I simply... it was not a lie. My [Partner], the Gods-Smiting Whip, was tampered with this morning. I do not know why or how. You see my issue, yes? Can I. Can I count on you? To be discrete?"

Hrn. Stupid, why did she say that? The only expansions worth making would require, to some extent, explaining the secrets of the Nine Drive System to a stranger. But now that face was lighting up. Coming to life! So earnest, serious, and guilelessly giddy. Damn it all, there was no backing out.

Mirror's tail curls behind her with apparent pleasure. She frowns and flicks it from side to side to calm the feeling welling up inside her. She cannot help that it looks just like wagging.