Cyril listened intently, even having stopped eating while she answered. He seemed like a student cramming the day before a test, and though he had no paper in front of him, Quinn could assume he’d taken thorough notes in his brain, even though she’d said little. 

“[color=caffbf]Sims, hm? I see…[/color]” he said, though there was a brief yet unmistakable flash of disappointment to it, smoothed over immediately with another smile as he went on eating. “[color=caffbf]You must put in quite the hours to fight like you do.[/color]”

When she changed the subject to Axan, he cocked a brow. Perhaps it was her naiveté again, reared whenever any matter of politics arose. Cyril didn’t regard her with frustration, or sneering amusement. More like inquisitive camaraderie, like coworkers gossiping around the water cooler. 

“[color=caffbf]What I wouldn’t give to know! She’s a real enigma on the pilot stage, hardly anyone outside of the ESC gets to meet her. She doesn’t interview, she doesn’t attend official appearances, she doesn’t even duel. Or hasn’t in years, anyway. The only time anyone ever sees [i]Firebrand[/i] is for singularities and there’s barely any coverage. President Dane’s gotten so good at side stepping questions about her, most everyone’s stopped asking. It’s bizarre, honestly, you’d think they were [i]embarrassed[/i] of her. She doesn’t even have any merchandise—at least nothing branded. Can you believe that? [i]Eusero[/i] leaving profits on the table.[/color]”