They'd really better have somebody on the reporting beat for this one, because this scene should absolutely be burned into the memory of the world. Titanomachia, [i]the[/i] Titanomachia, draped in the arms of another woman whose name nobody can manage to pronounce. Her tablet nestled safely between her tummy and her curled in thighs, with her (beautiful) ears lit up in white. The pair of coffee cups stubbornly gripped one in each hand while she tap tap tap taps without end on the screen in front of her with her second knuckles. That feral sovereign's smile plastered on her face and her wild violet eyes gleaming in both reflected light and the thrill of some undiscovered fact or terror. 

She could be in the arena right now. In fact, to look at her is to imagine her dominating the Hex even as she's slowly carried home from an empty park that never warranted attraction. The invincible Titanomachia. The inevitable Titanomachia. The face of the next generation. Except that imagination had to give way to reality the longer those cameras stare (let them stare, let them stare, [i]please[/i] let them freeze this forever). Because she is [i]not[/i] dominating the Hexadrome. She is being carried. Like a princess. By a shadow named... Madeline? Uh, C-Croix? Something French anyway, and therefore stupid. 

Madeleine clears her throat, but there's no response from Machia. She is so absorbed in her work, absent the need to even think about walking, that someone could probably punch her in the face and she wouldn't react to it. To make absolutely certain, Madeleine whistles. Nothing. Her eyes flash in the city-dark. 

"...You know, I hate that stupid noise you make. That little 'HmmM' when you get surprised. Because you aren't really surprised, are you? This was within your calculations. Somehow. It all fits inside your theory, so nothing ever catches you."

"It makes me... think you're lying to me. About something. I just don't know what, yet."

"I wanted to hear you squeak," she admits after several moments of extra silence, "Just the most girly, undignified noise."

"It is so annoying that you never let me brush your hair. Or suggest clothing. You have so... much potential. You are wasting it. I hate when girls prettier than me work less than I do."

"The way your finger taps on the..."

"...Don't stop twirling pens..."

"Put milk in your..."

"And then the..."

"...Don't forget about..."

"Always a contest. And I can never win."

She is at the door now. Her legs are tired beyond reason and she has no capacity to continue carrying an entire extra person, especially when her lifeblood is being so cruelly withheld from her. This must be the end of the scene, one way or another. Besides, even if the key was in her pocket, how was she supposed to reach for it like this?

"You really are the weirdest, most annoying person I have ever met. I..."

There are many words in many worlds she could use to finish that thought. She chooses none of them, and lingers at the threshold. Not releasing her princess just yet. Not until she notices where her castle is.