[b][center][h2][color=magenta]Reya[/color] & [color=SteelBlue]Ingrid[/color][/h2][/center][/b] A strange insect, somewhere between a beetle and a long-legged crane fly, buzzed around Ingrid's face. She swatted at it passively, before managing to line up a hand and expertly kill it with a hard flick mid-flight. The thing was sent careening with its last wing beats, and then brushed aside with the rush of air that accompanied one of the many passing cars along that main thoroughfare. To avoid most of the local guard, they had to go on a very circuitous path, but once this concrete bridge had been crossed it wasn't going to be much further. Getting here wasn't hard. Their illustrious employer hadn't lied, the papers she provided were good. The few times contact with random jackboots had been inevitable, IDs flashed, Ingrid shrank and acted properly fearful, and they didn't seem to question it any more than that. There were a few more blocks to go, and inevitably that was going to be the worst of it, but if Reya had something to worry about it wasn't her parter in espionage. Nothing could be done about the accent; on the ride to the district she had briefly attempted a more local dialect and plainly failed. It wasn't going to be too much of a problem, though. Even if they were far out from Lyran space, the ones that could afford to travel to the other end of the Sphere had the cultural pride to keep their accents and identity. Thus, though still too noblesse to oblige a more naturalized persona, she wasn't worried. What she lacked in skill, though, that was made up for with her seemingly natural talent at acting. The moment she had stepped out of the car, she stopped with the rigid movement that always seemed like she was a few steps away from stamping out a military march into the grey and brown mud beneath her boots, and loosened her gait to the point she seemed like she could be a normal person. In knit cap and heavy coat, borrowed pants and mittens, she looked like she could be any random nobody walking the streets of Nui Awa. Still uncharacteristically shivered whenever the wind picked up, perhaps, but natural otherwise. Recovering from that same quake, Ingrid conversed with Wyatt, not too loud or quiet - [color=SteelBlue]"Let me put it this way: the man had already fallen down stairs in front of everyone while sober, multiple times by that point. We were worried that if he was going to go walk down 30 flights of stairs while [i]blind drunk[/i], he'd reach the bottom floor as a pile of broken bones."[/color] She had regailed her with a relatively uninteresting story about a very clumsy man she once worked with - sanitized to being a fellow office drone, rather than whatever military personnel or posh nobleman he might've been in reality. [color=SteelBlue]"A few others and I, we actually managed to go up 10 flights in the time it took him to stagger down one, just to make sure he didn't die. We were seriously worried, and it was a good thing he forgot about it by the morning, because he was the kind of person to act sullen if anyone showed him any kind of support. It's a miracle he got that high up in...the company."[/color] —---------------------- Reya was feeling exceptionally satisfied with herself as she walked alongside Ingrid on the streets of North Nui Awa. Not because the mission felt more natural to her strengths, i.e.: getting what she wanted with words or manipulation rather than bullets or laser beams, but because in addition to their documentation, Cassandra provided a surprisingly remarkable selection of modern Espian fashion for them to choose in order to blend in along with something akin to a concierge, whose job it was to make sure their selections were satisfactory- and that’s when Reya remembered. When they had first arrived on Espia, one of the more obscure urban legends that she uncovered from the locals was that Espia was the actual home of [i]SPHERE[/i] magazine. A popular Inner Sphere gossip and fashion journal that some of its more critical targets might have regarded as a rag due to its less than flattering tones towards their wardrobe decisions. Reya had glanced at the magazine from time to time when she was younger and in college though its brand of salacious commentary was not exactly smiled-upon reading material within the Combine. The whole periodical was ghost written, for obvious reasons, but having made the connection just on her naked intuition, particularly with the significant pains made to conceal the true identity of its chief editor, made the knowledge much more satisfying. She doubted anyone else had figured it out, or cared, but it meant their new “sponsor” was exceptionally more connected than she had let on and was holding out on the Colonel. Of course Reya couldn’t be completely sure about her hunch, but she knew when was right about something. Wearing the sweater dress and boots she’d picked out along with her coat and leggings and her hair tied in something other than the broken ponytail of the last few weeks, Reya was sure she could have passed by the guards at some of the checkpoints without any papers. Cassandra’s representative had tried to withhold a scowl at Ingrid’s bland choices, but seemed much more approving of Reya’s ensemble and the two of them presented a surprisingly convincing contrast. She mused about how Tarak would like it, but then rolled her eyes at the thought of herself. Unlike Ingrid, she wasn’t acting, but the image of the two of them reflected in a passing glass storefront reminded her of another realization that was steadily emerging in the back of her psyche. It was a view of her two selves: Her old self wearing designer clothes and strolling through a wealthy business district and her [i]other self[/i], the one who had felt the wave of chaos in her heart when she’d nearly been killed on the raid and the one playing mother to a child that wasn’t her own in a nearly broken camp of mercenaries on the run. She looked down at her wrist where a single charm dangled loosely on a bracelet. [i]Maneki Neko[/i], the happy cat, smiled up at her and was originally a gift she’d given to Sunny, but it didn’t particularly seem like the young girl’s style. Other than Never Ending Hearts, Sunny was still too young and tomboyish for jewelry. As they began cleaning up to leave the cave, she had given it back to wear on the mission. Reya was beginning to wonder about the type of person she was becoming and if it would be good enough to watch over the girl. In the time she had been with the Knights, [i]never[/i] had she heard Ingrid talk so much. It was as if her shorter partner had banter and stories saved up for weeks and Reya figured that perhaps her work on the Ostroc had earned a measure of trust from the other woman that might have been lacking before. She just listened thoughtfully and took in their surroundings. As they crossed the long bridge she thought about Marit, Raven and Aroxy, far down river and likewise Tarak and Ziska. A saltwater breeze moved under her hair and she pushed it away from her face. “[color=magenta]I’m sorry.[/color]” She said after a long pause following one of Ingrid’s stories. “[color=magenta]Sorry about how I was… before all this.[/color]” Her tone denoted a clear sense of shame and she looked at some of the buildings on the riverside as if there was something written there that she could read and say more, but there wasn’t anything else. She wasn’t sure how Ingrid would react, but it felt right to let the words out. —---------------------- Though Ingrid continued with the story as Reya reminisced and pined - eventually devolving into a strange tale of several “lower-ranking workers” having to impersonate “office security” and convince the drunkard that he had been arrested on charges of corporate espionage, and then keep him in a side room with guards armed only with spray bottles - she slowed her speech. Only a little at first, but as she noticed her partner’s continued slipping away, the way she craned her head down and around and huffed, she was clearly offput. By the time she spoke out loud, she had started walking a little slower as well, and almost stopped as they cleared the bridge - not too long to go. [color=SteelBlue]“I’m sorry?”[/color] she parroted, with just a hint of annoyance but more clearly made out of concern. [color=SteelBlue]“It’s fine, I can shut up. I suppose it’s not the most entertaining story,”[/color] she holds up a gloved hand, [color=steelblue]“so don’t worry, you heard most of it already. If…alcohol’s a sore subject or something, we can move onto something else.”[/color] If this kind of consolation sounded awkward, that’s because it was. She clearly understood something was wrong, but she didn’t seem to know what, or what to do about it properly. As they came to a crosswalk, the Duchess pressed down the button once (not the rapid slamming most city-folk seemed hard-wired to perform), and they stopped. She tried not to stare at her too hard. —---------------------- “[color=magenta]No, it’s fine… I shouldn't have brought it up when we were so close.[/color]” Reya replied, glancing back at her partner with a dismissive, half-smile and shake of her head. It was unusual to sense a hint of concern in the other woman’s voice. Ingrid didn’t seem to be following which conversely made Reya feel somewhat relieved and somehow a little bit worse about herself. She never apologized for anything and it seemed Ingrid didn’t know anything about accepting apologies either. They were indeed quite a pair. Standing at the crossing with another block and corner to turn before they arrived at the [i]Diamond[/i], as the locals called it. Reya proceeded to straighten the ensemble of the Duchess a bit just as if Ingrid had asked and to change the subject. Her hands gently evened up the lapels. She actually had been paying attention to the strange story. Not doing so was simply impossible. Her mind absorbed information constantly. From the characters in the “corporate espionage” tale, to the design of the buttons on the jacket or the street and shop names they passed- no information was too trivial to be overlooked and still her mind wandered like it needed more to be satiated. Ever since the run from the capital, her internal thoughts had been overwhelmingly negative and she countered it by constantly keeping busy on the Knights’ equipment or watching after Sunny. Taking a walk to the meeting target was giving her way too much time to think. “[color=magenta]There…[/color]” She said with finality and a small smirk as she minutely adjusted the knit cap so that it was perfectly centered on Ingrid’s head. “[color=magenta]Much better.[/color]” The crossing sign changed for them to pass. —---------------------- Something clearly chafed Ingrid, because a bit of the usual standoffish hostility was shown with the flash of a scoff as she was dolled up. Not much, but just enough to tell that further adjustments weren’t appreciated. As the crosslight started barking the order to walk in multiple languages, and she was freed from Reya’s perfecting touch, she didn’t bristle so much. [color=SteelBlue]“You don’t need to worry much.”[/color] Her previously cheerful tone had soured a little. [color=SteelBlue]“It’s just a drink between friends. Between us two, you’re the more accomplished speaker.”[/color] She added [color=SteelBlue]“I’m just not good around people”[/color] as an afterthought, less a truth and more to make it sound ‘casual’ in her head. [color=SteelBlue]“You need to be up and alert if we’re going to have a fun time. Besides, I’m paying, so you better enjoy it. If anything gets between you and a good drink, I’ll be there to make things easy on you.”[/color] [i]Don’t worry, I’ll shoot anyone who causes problems for you.[/i] Ingrid clearly couldn’t think of anything more comforting. By that point, they had reached their destination. Not many drunkards seen hanging outside, and someone must’ve been cleaning up the vomit, which altogether made it appear one of the nicer establishments in this city. Ingrid’s eyes briefly passed over the tinted windows - it seemed busy on the inside, and the noise of loud conversation could be heard through the metal and glass doors, which given the state of things shouldn’t be that surprising. People need their drinks. Ingrid said [color=SteelBlue]“Come along.”[/color] —---------------------- Happy with having reset the Duchess to factory settings Reya gave a smile back at Ingrid’s attempt to withhold a full scoff. The previous conversational topic was forgotten and they crossed the street. In her mind she had an image of a “dive” bar based on research and then she had the description happily offered up by Ziska later after the briefing. What appeared in front of them was something of a mix of the two. A couple patrons on the outside had the steady sway of a few drinks in their stance, but the venue itself was fairly clean and fit the current situation on Espia appealing to both the businessman and the soldier, however the whole establishment was smaller than she had envisioned. Back home on Tabayama, she had walk-in closets that were bigger. Her eyes drifted up to a large billboard for Comstar Financial Services then back towards the bar itself when she noticed the imperfections in the wall. Items not the result of erosion, but tiny and purposeful. She looked closer, then she narrowed her glance then she stopped walking. Her arm snapped out to grab the back of Ingrid’s jacket sleeve firm enough to dishevel what she had just straightened up, but her eyes stayed fixated. “[color=magenta]Stop.[/color]” She said flatly. It was a command, not a request. —---------------------- Ready to get in and get to work - surely, it had been some time since she had to use the diplomatic parts of her body, this would be a welcome return to form for the ex-noble - Ingrid was steeling herself. Just a little further, as she had done all she could to prepare since the moment the mission briefing had finished, but that level of obsession as normal for her. With that in mind, it was a miracle that she didn’t snap to and cause something bad to happen the moment she was pulled aside. She did yank back, freeing her arm before Reya could do it herself, and looked up at her “attacker” in surprise and then a brief hint of confusion. [color=SteelBlue]”What?”[/color] Quickly, though, she followed Reya’s gaze… —---------------------- Reya looked, then she looked harder and then she looked again, paying no attention to Ingrid at all. Her face was like stone, like an archeologist carefully surveying the uncovered work of some long lost treasure as if they couldn’t believe it was real and right in front of them. She touched the carvings, letting her fingertips judge the depth while simultaneously coming to the realization that she thought she might be sick to her stomach. Unlike an archeological discovery however, these carvings were [i]fresh[/i] and [i]wanting[/i] to be found, at least for those that knew how to look. Her lips quivered and the roaring torrent of computation that was her mind simply locked up at the data being provided by her eyes. At some point she could feel Ingrid’s confusion burning into the side of her face and she took a step back, but it felt like her legs were going to give way beneath her. Her hand searched behind her for something for the rest of her body to sit and not make a scene by collapsing, only finding the cold touch of a streetlight that she leaned against with great relief. Her countenance was completely aghast, wide-eyed, like she had seen a ghost. —---------------------- Ingrid kept close to her side, only sparing a glance at the markings before Reya’s reaction became worse, and as she staggered back she kept pace with her. Immediately, her mind was turned away from the inscription and toward the rest of the world. Imagined assassins, the unfortunate dead of the war must exist at every corner… And as Reya caught her breath, slowly, she came down from her own high of panic - there was nobody here who had a knife under their coat, nor a horror to be seen. Ingrid looked at the inscription one more time, and confirmed that it really was all that had bothered her. Unbecoming of her assumed persona, she lingered on it for a moment, and then groaned in disappointment. Positioning herself and raising Reya up a little, trying to make it seem like she was merely helping a friend up, she grumbled under her breath: [i][color=SteelBlue]”Get it together! It’s nothing! We’re right here and we’re expected, and I need you to work with me.”[/color][/i] She didn’t slap her, step on or foot or anything like that to psyche her out, but her grip on the underside of her arm was tight. [color=SteelBlue]”I don’t know what it is that’s got you like this, but can’t it [i]wait?[/i]”[/color] —---------------------- Reya had to stand there for a moment, letting Ingrid pretend to be helping her before she tried to manage her composure again. No one seemed to have paid them any mind. They were outside a bar after all. It was still a while before she could look away. However, her partner’s impatience struck a nerve and she wanted to bark at her to shut up. She clenched a fist. Anger twinged at the edge of her glance and her emotions were all over the place. Ingrid hadn’t watched her best friend get exploded or spent the last several weeks being a mother to a child that wasn’t her own or going on missions [i]and[/i] repairing mechs herself. It wasn’t the end of the world if she could just get [i]two-fucking-minutes[/i]. [i][color=magenta]Get it together Reya![/color][/i]. A voice barked at her fiercely from the back of her mind. It wasn’t Ingrid’s fault. Ingrid was just, [i]Ingrid[/i]. She was focused on the mission and that was the right thing. Reya let out a long breath and tried to relax. Why she didn’t feel happy, she couldn’t explain. It still felt more like [i]fear[/i], like she was dealing with something sepulchral. It was nearly a physical feeling in her chest, like a ghost had stabbed her right through the heart. “[color=magenta]Lena is alive.[/color]” She said finally, but didn’t look at Ingrid. She already knew the other woman was going to think she was crazy, but the words were out there now and she wouldn’t blame Ingrid if she did. It was probably the last thing she expected to hear. Reya still didn’t believe it herself. She stepped towards the wall again and put her back to the markings so they were right over her shoulder. [i][color=magenta]Well, we might as well be academic about it…[/color][/i]. Something told her not to point them out. There was no telling who was watching. She finally looked back at her partner and tried her best to explain: “[color=magenta]These markings are what’s called ‘[i]low sign[/i]’. I know this because it’s a way that Lena, Diego and Sunny would communicate on their home planet. Lena was my best friend, she explained to me how it works and how it’s unique to them, like a family cipher… Diego is with the others at Fort Tie Shan, Sunny is back moving with the camp.[/color]” She paused, took in a breath and exhaled slowly, wiping one eye dry. “[color=magenta]These markings are only a few days old.[/color]” She crossed her arms and looked back and forth briefly and tried to swallow a lump in her throat. “[color=magenta]The final sign in the sequence is Lena’s initials, ‘[i]LVK[/i]’... but there’s a message in the other markings about a woman with green hair that speaks in code. I think that might be our contact.[/color]” —---------------------- The explanation was enough to calm down the impatient fire beside her. As she went on in detail, Ingrid progressively shrunk, retreating from her flash of anger and into a quiet, awkward kind of stupor. She had let go of her by this time, and crossed her arms as she viewed the inscriptions once more. A veritable scholar she was, having learned three languages to fluency and had done good work with Latin and Japanese before the circumstances that lead to the removal of her House, but this ‘low’ speak was indeed too low for her to have even heard of. She assumed, at first, it was some cryptic insult or threat written in whatever street cant they used around these parts. Aside from her puzzling having been cleared up, though, Ingrid felt just a bit of sympathy, though it would be some time before she’d explain why this was the case.[color=SteelBlue]“I see.”[/color]She took a breath and paused, looking now at Reya and her own flush of emotions. Then, a simple nod. [color=SteelBlue]“I see…””[/color] [color=SteelBlue]“I have…spoken out of turn,””[/color] she said with some difficulty, and then more as she added a formal [color=SteelBlue]“Forgive me for my impudence. You had an acceptable reason to be concerned.””[/color] Ingrid, of course, was the arbiter of whether or not a breakdown like that could be justified or frivolous. Self-appointed, naturally. She let the ambiance of cars, soft rain and muffled conversation fill in the silence for a minute, before a sigh led her to say, [color=SteelBlue]“She’s in there. The contact. A better chance at finding your Lena than anywhere else in this world, I’d bet. Whenever you’re ready.””[/color] She stepped away, moving toward the door. At least now Reya could choose whether it was a moment of dire importance or not.