This conversation, like ice. Held in her mouth. The unexpected shift. The surprised crunch in response. The reflexive swallow. Sharp. Cold. Sliding down the throat. Hitting the stomach. Sudden surge. Creeping chill, like ink in a bowl of water. But then? Ease. Pleasant; the desire to bite down on a new shard and feel it all again. 

Stupid. Thinking herself clever enough to say so much and still hide the truth. And this [i]was[/i] the truth, pinned as though by a needle, if expressed in culturally biased terms. Certainly Mirror did not view herself as a god. But if the gods of Zaldar were the animating forces of that people's great machine beasts, then... yes. The concept technically applied to her as well. Already in the short time she'd been here Mirror had let multiple secrets be pulled off of her like layer after layer of teasing silks.

And yet... huh. A moment of tension, and then her body relaxes into her seat. Muscles unclench almost all the way into jelly, releasing their secret toxins into her body. The secret lessons of Colony Clans' fashions: exposure would set you free. Function as an expression of form. This is... pleasure? Yes, this is pleasure. The comfort of expression reaching another soul. Nevertheless, admonishment. Successful communication when unintended had consequences. There will still many, many layers she could not afford to have plucked from her. Not here, and not by this craftsperson.

"...I will," she chirps, "Address your comments in order."

Immediately, she drops out of using the hand language to supplement her speech. Her hands are needed for more important things. She pulls her screen back onto her lap and lets her fingers resume their dance. This time the contents of the screen are not for the people in the room. She sends instructions to Slate for inquiries to follow up on. To delegate or take the task herself as she sees fit. An invitation to play with a new toy soon, though not until permission is acquired. She takes a moment to order dinner for the entirety of her crew, to reward them for working so long and so hard with so little direction today. 

She switches accounts and starts making inquiries about cultivars of flower. Roses in red, pink, yellow, and white. Hibiscus, noncommittal. And perhaps... ah! Well, this would be expensive. The [Starlight Yearning], the so-called "Chroma Lotus" as humans called them. Ridiculous name. But perfect flower, absolutely tailor made. She'd need petals in #ffd217, #17cfff, and #1790ff and... ah. Ah. Designs are already unfolding in her head. She shoves them aside and turns off the device entirely. She's taken more time than she's realized.

"Your apology is unnecessary. My story is my story: I do not control who tells it or how. You do not control what you hear, and there are precious few sources you may have heard it from. My own people, on down to my family mock me for what happened. I will not say they are wrong to do so. We are speaking together now, you may decide the truth about me as you will. The conclusion you come to will do me greater good than any apology you could offer me today."

Mirror shrugs as she uncrosses her legs. She smooths her fur with her hands and a small smile directed at Matty. A playful, yet tender expression for the flustered sillyhead. This would not last. Could not last, in fact. But that did not make the girl any less beautiful, or the nervous way she claws at her pants any less soothing to Mirror's heart. She was a creature of many needs who needed many hearts to fill them. Every connection, and every kind of connection she could fill was good for her, and if she had the chance to at least leave them fuller than she found them... that was charity enough to make it worth it, surely? That was enough... to make her something other than slime.

"Your assistant," she begins sharply but with a lick of her lips, "Does not interest me in any professional capacity. I have explained this. I am... my crew is perfect. No addition, no subtraction. I told Slate I would never replace her, and under no circumstances will I break that promise. What I was referring to was. Well, Matty? Come here, little ripple. Be a good girl for me and show your boss what it is you're so excited about. There's a sweetling, come along~"

The curl of her lips is suggestive. The curl of her finger, even more so. When she pats her lap in sweet condescension she crosses from simple suggestion into demand. And promise. Come be safe. Come be loved. Come let yourself be adored, and taken to a place beyond caring who sees it happen. She pats her lap again, full of encouragement, and sets fire to the bomb.

[Mirror will immediately spend her String to compel Matty to come snuggle into her lap and accept pets while the shop talk continues, like a good kitten should]

"To the last," Her voice and face are stony and serious now, regardless of what other behaviors she might presently be engaged in, "I am... surprised. By your guess."

That's an understatement. Even now her spine tingles from the shock. Her tail tip curls and flicks unconsciously above her head.

"I will not call myself a god. I am not of my peoples' faith, not exactly, but the. Context. Of the wording. The claim. Disrespectful to people I care about very much. So I will not do it. But in the way that [i]you[/i] mean it... hrm. Here is what I will say. The name of my armor is the Gods-Smiting Whip. And there is no one, anywhere in the galaxy, that can fight inside it but me. Fewer than one in ten could even compel its arm to move. And even if by some miracle you found someone enough like me to make my [Nine-Tails] stir... they could never, [b]ever[/b], dance the way that I do. The chains must be built to fit the armor. But I assure you, they are for me. My hands, my mind, my heart. Me.

If that still seems an honor to you, then cost is of no concern to me. I will move what I must to make it happen. I'll devote as much of my time as I can spare, and my Slate's when I cannot spare any. And of course, I want little Matty to take her work seriously. In fact, I'm excited to see her connect with roots she wasn't aware of. Don't work her so hard she hurts herself and we'll be fine. Is all of this acceptable?"