Mona sat quietly as Quinn explained herself—or, did her best. There still wasn’t any judgement behind those glasses, and as far as could be assumed she didn’t seem like a particularly hard woman to read. There was obvious pity there, perhaps more so than would be found on an average stranger, but still muted compared to, say, Besca or Dahlia. As Quinn finished, and dabbed at her eye, Mona reached over with her own napkin and began to dab up some of the spilled water. A few assistants started to approach, but she waved them off. “Ahah,” she said, raspy voice low. While she was leaned over, she tapped a small button on Quinn’s mic and shut it off, then did the same to her own. “So that’s how it is.” Done, she sat back in her chair and took another long drink from her glass. She took her time, then let out a contemplative sigh before she offered Quinn a small smile. The pity in her eyes shifted slowly to a knowing gleam. “Well, you don’t have to worry about [i]that[/i], honey. We won’t go anywhere near it. Trust me, for what it’s worth, you’re not the first one to have, ah, [i]touchy subjects[/i]. Not even the first one to have a thing with their parents.” Her tone, will a bit more serious, was still light enough to be conversational. “You take ten minutes to really think about the whole thing—piloting, you know—there’s not a lot of room for happy childhoods.” One last drought finished her glass, and her smile widened. “Oh [i]gawsh[/i], the stories I could tell you. The stories [i]I’ve[/i] been told, and not even by the people they happened to! All the way from here to Tohoki the whole scene is just rife with family troubles. Not everyone, of course; lil’ Dahlia did alright, and I knew this one kid from Eusero who grew up with the sweetest grandma—ah, sorry, I’m rambling! Hah, I swear, sometimes it’s like the cameras are never off! But you know what I mean. Heck, you’re brand spanking new to this and you ran into a pretty bad case already. The Tormonts, [i]oof[/i]. Helburke doesn’t do a lot of interviews outside its own walls, but the things you hear about those Great Houses…” “What I’m trying to say—and you’d think I’d be better at this considering, you know, [i]talk show[/i] and all—is that you’re not alone. I’m not sure how much of a comfort it is, knowing that, but…there you go. Anyway, like I said, don’t worry about a thing—we’ll focus on other things. Plenty of good stuff to talk about. You like sports? Oh! How about music? You got a favorite band? If they’re Runan, we could maybe pull some strings, get’em to—” “[color=gray][i]WHAT?[/i][/color]” The whole studio froze, and then collectively turned as Besca hurried up to the set, stuffing her phone back in her pocket. Mona looked absolutely bewildered, but before she could speak, Besca blurted out frantically: “[color=gray]We have to go. Now.[/color]” Mona blinked. Silence fell upon the crew as dire implications gave birth to dire speculations. Even Besca seemed to realize, through her urgency, how [i]bad[/i] that had sounded. “[color=gray]There’s no singularity,[/color]” she added quickly. “[color=gray]No one’s in danger, but this is important. Quinn, come on, we’re leaving.[/color]” “But—” “[color=gray]I’m really sorry, Miss Dunway, but this isn’t negotiable. We’ll reschedule as soon as we can, I promise,[/color]” she said, and was already starting for the exit. The soldiers they’d come with formed up and followed. “[color=gray]Quinn, let’s go![/color]” Everyone else—Mona, the crew—turned to Quinn, confused and perhaps just a bit afraid.