Madeleine is much too busy staring at the thermoses to even try reaching for one, let alone notice it hadn't been offered to her in the first place. She turns on her heel and follows Machia back into the night air like a shadow. She tilts her head to one side in quiet contemplation of the mystery. This could be one of her traps. Or she simply thinks Madeleine hasn't earned it yet. Or is she just on autopilot? Did she even mean to ask for these cups in the first place? For that matter, why had she actually stopped for drinks? 

She frowns as she returns her gaze to Machia's stride. The original leg and the mechanical, marching down the street in ruthlessly efficient harmony. The sweat still glistening on her skin, and the subtle twitching of muscles as they contrast against the synthfibers on the other side. Her teeth clench at the sight, then her fingers, and then her spine all the way down to her tail. Silently, she quickens her pace. 

One.

Two.

Three.

Madeleine lifts Titanomachia into a perfect princess carry. And now both of her legs are equal in repose. She doesn't look down at all, doesn't let her face show or waste any time checking for a response. All of her focus is on the path ahead, and keeping her body steady so she doesn't give away how difficult this is for her right now. Big and tough, right? Those were your words.

"Do not misunderstand me. This is training," she says with her cool, low voice, "I wasted all that time on my outburst earlier. I just... want it back. This has nothing to do with you."

Heat rises up her back as her brain unhelpfully conjures imaginary headlines in tomorrow's sports section after someone catches her in [i]this[/i] maneuver, too. She shakes her head, and risks the tiniest of glances downwards.

"So don't fight it, or I'll bite you again."