I AM CORINNE SHOURICHI - DID YOU KNOW BOARDROOM AND BORED ROOM ARE HOMOPHONES!
There reached a point in every meeting, no matter how classified or secret, when you just had to admit you were sticking around because you were privileged to be there.
That's okay! Secret missions and briefings are badass! Were you to pickle the brain of Corinne Shourichi, hell, you would be so bamboozled by the power of my forbidden knowledge that you'd forget to be pissed that someone cut into my beautiful head and stole my brain in the first place.
But sometimes, even the most professional or protocol-fetishizing spook had to admit that there was no real point to letting a bunch of ne'er-do-wells, lazy bums and miscreants sit around and pretend we really gave a shit about much but dealing with a kaiju in the heat of the moment. We weren't here to discuss protocol, or even really debate what to do about the fortress; they were a fortress, they could handle themselves, we would be the ones in the thick of every fight. Most of us couldn't even bother to remember the name of the manager of the fortress' galley because all anyone really recognized her by were her tits.
She has gigantic tits.
And if we can't remember the name of a girl like that, how the shit are we gonna keep an eye out for the fortress or the support staff if they ever found themselves seriously engaged? Michel using all his brainpower on the Beamstars? That little airhead needs to use all his energy on growing big and strong and avoiding these bitches out here! We need him with us, not keeping an eye on volunteers who knew their day job might be a suicide mission. The truth chafes - wear a fucking jockstrap.
"Well, this was a great talk!" I rose suddenly and stretched out, arms rolling backwards languidly and fingers clasping and cracking as I stretched. "Dr. Kougami, Ikkyou-san, Pil..."
"Sadb--" I broke off, hastily keeping the rest of the nickname from slipping out with a mental quickness that only came from girls who lived in constant fear of brain theft could truly understand, "--I thank you all for your input, but my team needs to keep its strength up if we're looking an an escort mission on the horizon. I've got kids, metaphorically and spiritually speaking. Their bones need toughening."
For emphasis, I playfully flexed one arm in Sandbag's direction. Good thing that none of the people assembled here were medical doctors. If they were real doctors they might've known that my perfectly carved, divinely proportioned arm muscles actually did not require any work at all from my tough bones in order to flex!
Instead all they did was learn about equations and focus on math problems.
Can you imagine the type of person it takes to build a robot but not follow through by piloting it?
Jee-sus, it's like not asserting yourself when your daughter's boyfriend comes home. You keep it up with that spineless crap, that inviting him to dinner without waving a gun at him kind of crap, and the next thing you know you'll find that same sitting at the table at breakfast the next morning.
Wearing your grandmother's Old Country tablecloth like a toga.
Eating sashimi from her stomach.
Using her cleavage as a fucking soy sauce fountain.
It all kept coming back to food. Fuck, we really needed a meal.
"Kougami knows how to find me if there's anything else you want to make sure we already know," I said cheerfully, putting hands on my hips and grinning at poor old Sandbag.