"If I were to leave the Order..." (subtle correction of nomenclature. avoid shaming. gold star for Eclair!) "It would be for love. If I am ever blessed to meet a heart brilliant enough to pull me away from Duty I do not know if I could manage to focus long enough to make money with my meager skills."

Not that her own assessment of her work has stopped her from dreaming about that bounty. The problem was finding the time to chase it. [i]A[/i] problem was finding time to chase it. A second problem was the lack of availability of cheap-yet-quality dyes and canvas, and a third problem was that her painting skills were hobbyist at best, even by the mediocre standards of the Manor. Honor demanded she finish the work herself if she undertook it at all, but then the resultant output would surely not be worthy of reward.

Even still. Step one, assessment of the building layout of the Sapphire City. Step two, map of optimal grind spots and construction of mental layout to simulate a super ramp, ideally one that required no construction on her part. Step three, board. Flying was no difficult trick for the merest Maid-Knight when she had a shield at the ready; she doubted very much that she should fail at reaching sufficient altitude in center downtown to find her angle and allow herself sufficient time to locate at minimum three backup shots. Win bounty. Use proceeds to source new teas for the Manor. Become hero of the Order and get [i]all[/i] of the snuggles, ehehehehehe~

The problem was the landing. The problem was not dying for the shot itself. The wings of a Maid-Knight were -- [i]dum-te-dum, dum-TE-dum[/i] -- ah! [b]Darn it[/b], what was the tune? Not a children's song, though the child was singing it. Popular. Soothing, swinging beat, lacking sultry undertones. Escape from Sapphire City? No! No, no, no, conflation of current mental track with epiphany. Curses. Why was her relationship to music broken?

Startle. Laugh, three note trill. Realization, mimicking mystery melody again. Subtle wince. Recovery, smile.

"That is to say milady that I do not charge for tablet paintings. As a general rule an Aurora Knight in uniform will never seek recompense for leisure activities. Generally we negotiate with businesses and local governments for contract work as well, when necessary so I advise you be wary of any Maid that asks you for money. If you are uncertain, please ask them to perform a triple-orbit-prayer-stomp on their Shield. If they cannot, or worse do not understand the question, you are in the presence of a scam artist."

It does not occur to her to explain what the trick in question looks like or how to tell a well-executed skateboard trick from a poor one. These things have become so elemental to her that she has forgotten the terminology is not common parlance. Neither can she read the look on Lady Mel's face to know if she is curious about the conversation or about Lord Jaks--'s (what a strange name. check pronunciation with couple before parting. use notebook, official recording) exclamations. 

She turns her head in curiosity. In truth she had not noticed the commotion without having had it called to her attention. Nor could she guess at what it might mean. Even among the Maid-Knights, Eclair was infamous for selective learning. She knew most everything there was to know about things she considered mission critical, but the politics of Thellamie were not among these topics. Most details of cities, of maps, of directions from one location to another, of the feelings for one location's peoples toward another, these did not interest her and it was impossible to sit her down for a lesson that would correct her ignorance. The workings of various machines, which is to say the mechanics of their operation rather than their end-use, were similarly outside of her ability. In truth she did not even know if the land was flat or round, if it moved around the sun or the moon (neither? both?) or how much Outside lay between Thellamie and Yukisworld.

But opportunities for on site learning were exciting! What she learned [i]on[/i] a mission was, by definition, mission critical. Eclair's ears perk up and her eyes catch a very earnest fire as she rises up onto the tips of her toes to catch an early glimpse.

"Ah~?" she asks, still in melody, "What is~~?"