>>2864951
>'Maybe.' (Neutral)
>'I like to think that I've grown a little on my own accord.' (Indignant)
>'I guess they have.' (Agree)
>'We done here?' (Dismissive)
>Write-In

>>2864955
>well i'd like to think they've rubbed off on me a little and i've rubbed off on them a bit somehow as well

>>2864955
>'I guess they have.' (Agree)

>>2864955
>>'I guess they have.' (Agree)

>>2864955
>>2864957
This is fine.

>>2864957
>>2864965

>>2864958
>>2864962
Flipping a coin. Coin flipped.

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A pause.

A thought.

‘I guess they have.’

It’s an uncertain, oddly confident answer that you have. It’s hard to refute that you’d gone through some strange metamorphosis in the last two months after trying to give something back to the world after peddling your soul to the sin of sloth … but you were always unsure just how much the girls had changed you, if at all. You couldn’t just shake off the fact that you had spent years upon years walled up and on autopilot without consideration; it rarely hit that you were probably stepping up and outward from the man that you once were … and the attribution—or the truth of it—was by your own consensus that the external shifts, the change of your world had done more for you than the strength—or lack—of your character.

You want to believe, however, that you yourself had a slight hand in it. After all, you were—you are—the subject of the equation.

A little bit of Nagato’s discipline. Some of Takao’s analysis. A smidgen of Houshou’s patience.

That didn’t leave a whole lot.

‘Sir?’

You shake your head. What a time to zone out.

‘Sorry, just thinking,’ you confess sheepishly. You must have looked silly staring in the corner of the—

A gust of wind blows in, making you move your hand up. Nothing to be gained losing the only eye you had that didn’t drain you of what little stamina you had. The breeze is bitingly cold, snapping at your joints and cutting the sides of your cheeks. Out of the corner of your line of sight, you watch with envy as Bismarck’s hair flutters about as the KanMusu herself endures it with minimal fuss, if any at all. If there was an ability you could pluck out from the KanMusu, that particular one seemed the most practical. Adjusting body temperature and atmospheric endurance at will was just so useful.

You could save a fortune on air conditioning, if you ever lived to afford it.

‘It’s getting dark,’ Bismarck mentions pointedly, staring up at the clouds. ‘It appears that rain will be on the way.’

You wince. Autumn rain. The worst kind. The rebellious teenage phase of a downpour and snowfall.

‘Not for another hour, at least,’ you observe, staring up at the sky … albeit more in hope than from fact. ‘The weather’s been consistent the last week … but I won’t play the cards that it’s about to go bipolar.’

‘That … is an uncertain extrapolation,’ Bismarck responds flat.

You shrug.

‘It’s autumn,’ you declare. ‘If it’s not consistent, it’s crazy. Besides; I like to think that Mother Nature isn’t … totally inconsiderate.’

Bismarck chuckles behind her wrist, her eyes flashing mischievously.

‘Optimistic,’ she observes, correctly. ‘That is most definitely not the KanMusu speaking through you.’

She brings her hand down, nodding.

‘Shall we head back?’

>>2865032
>'Sure.'
>[Input a topic]
>Write-In

>>2865034
>>'Sure.'
>dont want the First Admiral to tease Houshou too badly afterall

>>2865034
>>2865042
Why not

>>2865042
This

Sorry guys. Was distracted by a round of Monster Hunter World.

But I finally killed Vaal Hazak.

>>2865034
>>'Sure.'

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‘Sure,’ you answer distantly, your mind more in tune with the ways you could keep yourself warm. Even if Bismarck would be wrong about the rain, the weather was most definitely taking a turn for the worst. If not now, then in a few hours; light storms had been hitting often enough … and with autumn stepping forward for its time in the sun—ha—unpredictability turned to pessimism more than it didn’t.

You did not enjoy the prospect of running through the rain.

Especially not in this weather.

No. No, you did not.

Prinz gathers herself quickly with the hint to departure. She and Bismarck engage in idle chatter of a foreign sort as the both of you slowly trudge back towards the collection of KanMusu and clanging weaponry. Unlike your engagement with her, Bismarck was highly more responsive to Prinz’s inquiries (If they were at all). You’re unsure of what dialect or language that the both of them had taken to the for, but the shift between rough and soft and the demeanor that they had adopted has you pin-pointing the topic wouldn’t be out of place of a bunch of friends chatting about politics or the score of a football match on the way to a pub.

At least, that’s what you think until …

>Notice (Roll a 1d6 each)

Rolled 4 (1d6)

>>2865238

Rolled 6 (1d6)

>>2865238

>>2865238

Rolled 2 (1d6)

>>2865238

Rolled 1 (1d6)

>>2865238

Rolled 3 (1d6)

>>2865238
Nice to see ya back MECH.

Rolled 4 (1d6)

>>2865238
Come out ye black and tans

Rolled 4 (1d6)

>>2865238

test

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‘You know, I’m right here.’

The both of them stop in their tracks, their heads practically cracking with the motion as they turn their gazes upon you. As you follow the motion, you can’t help but pat yourself on the back for being able to pin-point the subject … and it had only taken a dozen or so sentences.

Not that you were listening that well.

Prinz’s opportunistic glances at the end of every statement, which you can read as scrutiny even when blind, however, were dead giveaways. You don’t know what they’re talking about; you’re unsure what context your involvement in the discussion is mired in … but you do know that they’re talking about you. One thing that you learned growing up is that people didn’t so much as look at you by unconscious pull; you didn’t have that much gravitas to brag about such an attribute. No: people only chatted and talked about you when you were a target. Whatever Prinz and Bismarck had been chatting about, more than likely—if not unabashedly—involved you. High school is in flux: an age and a yesterday away in the same breath.

The gossip senses, however, never failed.

Not even across the barrier of languages.

‘It’s considered bad form to talk behind someone’s back like that.’

Especially, of course, with Prinz Eugen being as subtle about it as a hammer on glass.

‘You speak—’

‘I don’t,’ you state clearly, a hint of triumph twitching in the corners of your mouth, ‘but if you’re jumping to that conclusion from the get-go, it’s safe to say that you were talking about me?’

There’s no need for a reply. Bismarck’s brief hesitance has you raising a hand in an almost-reflexive placating gesture. This wasn’t something you wanted to start a fight over … even if you did this it was a rather rude roundabout. If Bismarck wasn’t so unfailingly charismatic, you’d probably have launched yourself into a tirade about etiquette and how Prinz could have used a course in them.

‘I’m sorry.’

Or not, if her pink cheeks and downcast gaze are any indication. Prinz seemed remorseful … and embarrassed. You’re unsure if it’s from being caught, though.

‘It’s not, uh, exactly, um, something that we’re … allowed to talk about,’ she continues tightly, her cheeks still pink. ‘I mean, you know … our, uh, current, um … eh …’

‘Situation,’ Bismarck finishes for her, sighing tiredly, prompting Prinz to hang her head. ‘It’s not something that we can just … let about indiscreetly.’

Situat—

It dawns on you.

‘You mean your—’

Two glares.

A hastily-ridden silence.

‘So … uh … how do I factor into it?’

Prinz’s ears couldn’t turn any redder. Bismarck tries a little harder … but all she manages to look is … constipated.

‘Candidacy.’

Candida—

No.

No way.

>>2869220
>'I'm, uh, honored.' (Hesitant)
>'I'm honored, really, but I think that I'll have to pre-empt my candidacy.' (Decline)
>'Does the First Admiral know about this?' (Puzzled)
>'I have to go.' (Exit, stage left)
>'You know, most people wouldn't consider me for the position at all.' (Doubtful)
>Write-In

>>2869227
>>'I'm, uh, honored.' (Hesitant)
ALL ABOARD THE BISKO TRAIN

>>2869227
>'I'm, uh, honored.' (Hesitant)

>>2869227
>'I'm, uh, honored.' (Hesitant)

>>2869227
>>'I'm, uh, honored.' (Hesitant)

>>2869227
>'I'm, uh, honored.' (Hesitant)

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‘I’m, uh, honored,’ you answer, albeit hesitantly.

Bismarck and Prinz glance at one another, their expressions taking a tighter, more controlled than before. You don’t blame them in mirroring your hesitance. As far as topics went, it was an awkward outcrop to stumble upon. You’d never considered yourself an eligible bachelor in the traditional sense … so to be even brought to the fore by conversation or passing mention, well, was a bit of an honor. You try—you will yourself—not to press anymore than you’d done. The both of them weren’t wrong, after all: this wasn’t the sort of thing that you could chat about in public. Bismarck and Prinz’s vote for discretion was definitely something that you could agree on … and even if you’d cracked it on your patented gossip senses, it was a good call to chat about it in a language few spoke around these parts.

‘Just candidacy, though,’ Prinz insists, the both of you resuming your walk back to the loud masses spinning anchors and chains. ‘Candidacy.

‘I won’t press it,’ you express neutrally, hoping to placate whatever fears Prinz had. ‘I’m just kinda … flattered. I don’t think even my parents would’ve seen me scouted.’

‘Scouted?’

It’s Bismarck who speaks up now.

‘You know? For … that sort of thing.’

You were still in the headlights with Kasumi now. The only actual presence that you remotely considered a prospect had only spun the web in the present … and you weren’t even sure if she was sure of herself. Everything had gone fast. Turning the clock back, you couldn’t exactly proudly rep that you were a specimen worthy of reverence coming out of high school. Hell, you were underwhelming and overstated coming out of college and into the workforce. No one had looked at you in a manner that said that you were a prospect worthy of consideration.

So even if it was a little unexpected, it was by no means unwelcome.

If only by your misplaced sense of self-importance.

But you have no doubt you’d be dragged back down to the ground some way or another soon, so that was that.

‘You’re not an entirely unappealing prospect,’ Bismarck remarks, more in observation than in praise. ‘The First Admiral thinks that you’ve got your head and heart in the right place … even if I think you are a little bit of a greenhorn in other aspects.’

‘We’re not all born soldiers, you know?’

Bismarck scrunches her nose.

‘I know that.’

‘So if you could, which one of us would you take?’

Prinz.

‘PRINZ!’

She holds up her hands, as if trying to hold back the wall of Bismarck’s fury … restrained by the tight wrap of her kimono.

‘I’m just curious …’

‘Those are not the kind of things humans ask!’

‘I know, I know, I’m just …’

>Bismarck
>Prinz Eugen
>U-511
>‘This isn’t the time or place.’
>Write-In

>>2869429
>>Bismarck

>>2869429
>Bismarck
waifu cruise we go

>>2869429
>>U-511
:^)

>>2869429
>>Bismarck
why not

>>2869429
joking:
>Graf

serious:
>Bisko

>>2869429
>Prinz Eugen

>>2869429
>>U-511

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‘If I had to choose, it’d have to be Bismarck,’ you answer coolly … and a little distantly. You hadn’t put a lot of thought into it; not that you could be blamed, after being put on the spot not two minutes ago. Prinz, to your surprise, puffs her chest out in a strange show of pride. Bismarck wears a knowing smirk as her eyes fall shut. It’s as if your answer had been expected.

‘I see, I see,’ Prinz lets out, her voice a tiny pitch higher into a whine as the words leave her mouth; she sounds like a lecturer validated by their hall of students. ‘It’s to be expected, no? That you would be a man of such blatant taste.’

You frown, not liking the insinuation one bit.

You weren’t that direct.

‘It’s not how you think it is,’ you retort, a ribbon in your mind going taut as you say the—admittedly poor—opening to your rationalization of the choice; neither of them appeared to be convinced. ‘I mean, I’m not exactly the type that’s hands on with his command style. Different Commanders need different things from their Squadrons … and I’ve always left the on-the-fly modifications to the field team over lording over methodology.’

A brief pause erupts.

That was a half-truth.

You’d been thrust into on-the-fly situations where you’d taken direct command of maneuvers on almost every occasion you’d thrown yourself out on the field, and despite the vast experience of your team, you’d found yourself at the table in trying to find the most favorable outcome in the space of a nano-second. So, in a way, you didn’t always leave the on-the-fly aspect of command to your field leaders … but you would actually prefer someone who could dish a hit and keep cycling through viable strategies with authority. As much as you liked Prinz … you thought that Bismarck would operate on that front more seamlessly than the former.

It also, coincidentally, was the sort of quality that you preferred present in the mother of your children, but that was an assumption and extrapolation that you weren’t quite willing to stretch just yet.

Yet.

You were in your twenties. Twenties.

You didn’t need that age on you right now.

‘Oh, boo. How practical.’

Prinz sticks out her tongue at you. It’s something that you would have pegged Samidare would pick up.

‘You’d be surprised how boring most preferences are to us lowly humans,’ you reply playfully, throwing Bismarck a wink with your good eye. ‘I think as far as needs go, I’m probably below the baseline for expectation.’

‘Unsurprising,’ the Battleship snorts as you resume your walk. ‘Considering your predilection towards symbiotic authority in peership, I suppose it’d only be natural you’d choose me.’

You narrow your gaze.

Were you really that predictable?

‘Or am I wrong about Nagato and Takao?’

>>2876626
>'Not that far off the mark.' (Noncommittal)
>'It's more professional than it is personal.' (Prim)
>'My feelings on the matter are my concern and not yours, Miss Bismarck.' (Dismissive)
>'I thought you'd bring up someone else, if I'm being honest.' (Puzzled)
>'Maybe you are, maybe you aren't.' (Divert)
>Write-In

>>2876629
>>'Not that far off the mark.' (Noncommittal)

>>2876629
>'Not that far off the mark.' (Noncommittal)

>>2876629
>>'Not that far off the mark.' (Noncommittal)

>>2876629
>'Not that far off the mark.' (Noncommittal)

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>>2876629
>>'Not that far off the mark.' (Noncommittal)

Session in 35 minutes to those still alive. I'll be running a few blitz sessions to bring this thread's post count up.

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I like to add that I have no excuses for you guys in being such a poor QM for this particular set of sessions. I'll just have this picture do the talking for me.

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‘You’re not that far off the mark,’ you admit, a sliver of amusement peeking out from the summit of your reply. ‘A little surprised that you’re picking out Nagato and Takao, though …’

‘Your records are available for scrutiny,’ she states, snorting. ‘You’re not the talk of the town without good reason.’

‘What reasons would those be, Miss Bismarck?’

Bismarck smiles mysteriously.

‘That would be telling, sir.’

Shaking your head, you decide to drop the topic and make a gesture to continue the walk. Not that there was much for you to dig up on the assumption. It didn’t take a stretch of imagination to cut up the why, what and how of your reputation or Nagato and Takao. Both of them had been tremendous help in your acclimatization to your new responsibilities … and with what you’d been up to the last two months, drawing a conclusion that the both of them were—are—key factors in your operational day-to-days. Especially keeping than operational. Nagato was the model second-in-command … and Takao was the one keeping everything even and sane for your to pick up.

So, again: no stretch of imagination required.

‘Plus, if anyone’s keeping you on any leash, it’s something that makes them noteworthy, no?’

A double-take. A wide eye.

‘PRINZ!’ Bismarck chastises.

‘What? You’re thinking it too, aren’t you?’

You laugh.

You’re inclined to agree.

‘I’m inclined to agree,’ you state, shooting a guilty look in Prinz’s direction as Bismarck stops herself from initiating what appeared to be an apology of sorts. Apparently even she had her standards on insubordination. ‘Anyone who can work with me either has both feet planted firmly on the ground or a predilection for the unconvention—’

Two flat stares.

‘Tolerance for the unorthodox,’ you correct yourself, ‘in method and execution. So you’re not wrong there.’

‘I believe that that’s something I can vouch for.’

Houshou’s voice cuts it right down the middle.

You turn your head to face the First Admiral and your remaining Carrier … and the Admiral and Murakumo, who had formed a neat entourage of four with the former two. The Admiral is out of his uniform, wearing a t-shirt with a code of assignment that is more than likely a call back to his days in the Navy, carrying two bags fitted with what you can only assume to be food. Murakumo’s expression is as dry as always, while Houshou’s lips form a fond smile. You draw the conclusion that whatever the First Admiral was here for had been settled …

‘Bismarck, are you ready to leave?’

So it was.

Murakumo huffs, wrinkling her lips as she shuffles slightly.

‘You sure you can’t stay a little longer?’ she sounds, her voice akin to a kindergartner begging for five more minutes in the playground.

The First Admiral turns a fond gaze to the troubled-looking KanMusu.

‘I would love to, Murakumo, Houshou,’ she states, bringing your Carrier into the conversation, ‘but I believe that the current state of affairs wouldn’t lend itself that luxury.’

‘The Commander is a good cook! You gotta try his food!’

And somehow, Murakumo saw you as someone to rope in as well.

>‘Murakumo.’ (Discipline)
>‘I’m sure I can whip up something. It’ll be a regular old … dinner.’ (Invite them over)
>‘I’m, uh, actually quite busy, too. Sorry.’ (Decline)
>‘Don’t bring me into this.’ (Dismiss)
>Write-In

>>2879064
>‘I’m sure I can whip up something. It’ll be a regular old … dinner.’ (Invite them over)

>>2879064
>>‘I’m sure I can whip up something. It’ll be a regular old … dinner.’ (Invite them over)

>>2879064
>>‘I’m sure I can whip up something. It’ll be a regular old … dinner.’ (Invite them over)

>>2879064
>‘I’m sure I can whip up something. It’ll be a regular old … dinner.’ (Invite them over)

>>2879064
>>‘I’m sure I can whip up something. It’ll be a regular old … dinner.’ (Invite them over)

Finally bloody caught up. 71 THREADS, 71 THREADS, too me a week or two to catch up.

Only issue i recall is Nachi's quest or giving her the bloody bookmark

>>2879064
>‘I’m sure I can whip up something. It’ll be a regular old … dinner.’ (Invite them over)
Invite everyone including the attendants and Vice Admiral.

>>2879064
>‘I’m sure I can whip up something. It’ll be a regular old … dinner.’ (Invite them over)

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You didn’t feel up to the task, personally. It’d been a figuratively long day … and with the weather taking a turn for the worse, you wanted nothing more than to get someplace warm and … well, away from the outside. Preferably a place where you could slack off to your heart’s content without Takao or Nagato or Houshou peeking over your shoulder wondering why you weren’t at work. Murakumo’s sudden action to rope you into her plans, however …

Maybe they were right.

Maybe you were a little bit of a pushover.

Just a little bit, though.

‘I don’t mind,’ you state, more insistent than indifferent. ‘It’s not like I have anything else on my schedule tonight. It’ll be a regular old dinner.’

Well, there were a few things you had in mind … but yes: there wasn’t anything you were particularly leaning towards. Serving the First Admiral and Bismarck was that unwelcome a knock to the schedule, if a little unexpected. After all, it wasn’t often that you had a worthy (human) audience to your cooking skills … and the chance to potentially build some positive rapport wasn’t something you were disinclined towards that much, even with your desire to throw your feet up and let the rest of the day pass by.

Even if Murakumo had roped you into it without so much as word of discussion prior.

Perhaps a line in the sand would be a more opaque reminder of the chain of command.

‘As tempting the offer is,’ the First Admiral replies, breaking the rise of enthusiasm just as it makes its climb, ‘I am sorry to say that I will have to decline.’

She gives a slight bow.

Your manners spur you to return it in kind.

As if on cue, a black car, a four door saloon of a car of a make you had never seen before, rumbles right up to your small group. The engine alternately growls and spits. The driver’s side has its windows slowly peel downwards, revealing a heavily-bearded man that was probably closer to your age bracket than the two Admirals.

‘Saw you walking down,’ he starts in a casual tone … a thick, Haszadian accent. ‘Are we …’

‘Yes,’ she answers, right as Bismarck takes the two bags from the Admiral. The man opens the door and steps out of the car, revealing a black coat over a stocky, thick build; he doesn’t even pay a second glance to the KanMusu, or to you or the Admiral, opening the rear doors and gently ushering the First Admiral inside before slamming the door shut.

Prinz goes to the other side, ducking her head under the roof as Bismarck rides shotgun.

‘Vice-Admiral.’

It takes a while for you to realize she’s referring to you.

You’re not sure just when you’ll get used to that title.

‘Yes, ma’am?’

‘I will hold you to your offer.’

You smile back.

‘Of course.’

‘Admiral.’

He throws up a salute.

‘Ma’am.’

A roar. A sputter. She’s through the gates and out of your sight.

'Just when you think things are getting a turn for the better,' the Admiral begins in a slow, tired drawl, 'they just can't help but spin for the worse.'

>'That's life.' (Dismissive)
>'I've learned to live with it.' (Nonchalant)
>'Convenience is a luxury in war, Admiral.' (Professional)
>'Something happen?' (Curious)
>Write-In

>>2897361
>'That's life.' (Dismissive)

>>2897361
I've learned to live with it.' (Nonchalant)

>>2897361
>>'Something happen?' (Curious)

>>2897361
>>'Something happen?' (Curious)

>>2897361
>'Something happen?' (Curious)

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‘Something happen?’

Even with your back to half of them and the cold biting at your ears, it’s not hard to tell from the slight rustle and scrape that your inquiry had piqued the curiosity of the present gathering of KanMusu. You turn your head slightly to face the Admiral, whose expression turns to one of exasperation at your question. You move to dismiss your inquiry, feeling that as innocent as the lined question was on the surface, there was an uncertainty as to the context to which you would be answered in: in a rhetorical sense … or one that the Admiral was reluctant to actually answer.

Nonetheless, he faces you.

And he moves to speak.

‘Things aren’t going well back inland,’ he reveals.

No, it wasn’t a “reveal” to you at all. Not really. After everything that had happened in the last few weeks, you would be naive to think that things were hunky dory in the offices. After chatting with your peers and catching the unwitting wind of gossip … well, the most optimistic thing that you could say of current outcomes would be that regardless of their end-result, no one would be standing in the way of you and your Squadron marching to certain doom.

Perhaps a little checklist would be there on the side, but no one would actually be stopping you, you believe …

‘Politics?’

He snorts.

‘The ISSF is getting … agitated by Taiyouga’s direct intervention. It looks like they’re going to start taking some actual action to work against the Admiralty’s pact with the government.’

‘Weren’t they already doing that?’

‘The ISSF were stepping back,’ he clarifies, briefly glancing at Houshou before focusing his attentions back upon your person. ‘Now they’re stepping on our toes … and it looks like some factions among the Lords are keen on making a political one-two with this mess. The First Admiral’s been trying to keep the peace, but … well, there’s just so much she can do. She’s the only one that all four sides trust … and that’s bringing another mess to the table.’

‘What kind of mess?’

‘When there’s only one resource to tap in for an advantage the only thing to do is buy in,’ the Admiral grumbles. ‘Everyone’s trying to get her to buy into their agenda.’

You can’t help but chortle.

‘Not happening.’

‘Doesn’t mean they won’t stop trying,’ the Admiral continues, ‘and with the ISSF stepping in for a direct intervention, who knows—’

‘ADMIRAL!’

You turn on your heel to the source of the new voice, finding a distressed-looking Fusou and a stone-faced Ooyodo, flanked by two technicians in coats and a trio of fairies marching right up to your—now slightly-smaller—group.

‘Fusou.’ He nods.

‘Um, uh … there’s something we need you to, uh … see. Um …’

He nods again.

‘All right.’

A quick salute.

‘Well, have a good one … Vice-Admiral.’

You grimace slightly.

‘You too, sir.’

Fusou breaks into a mix of unintelligible stammering as the group escorts the Admiral away. Ooyodo remains pensive as ever, taking her place by the Admiral’s side as she presents him with what appears to be a folder, the two technicians closing in on him and muttering words too quiet for you to hear from your position. Looking around, you notice that the small group was no more … and only Murakumo and Houshou remained.

‘Man, even on a weekend, he can’t take it easy at all, huh?’

>‘Neither should we.’ (Follow him CONSUMES 1 ACTION POINT)
>‘That’s why he’s The Admiral.’ (Impressed)
>‘Well, we can.’ (Turn attention back to Houshou and Murakumo)
>‘So, what did you girls talk about?’ (Refer to the First Admiral’s visit)
>Stay quiet
>Write-In

>>2897658
>>‘Neither should we.’ (Follow him CONSUMES 1 ACTION POINT)

>>2897658
>>‘Neither should we.’ (Follow him CONSUMES 1 ACTION POINT)

>>2897658
>>‘Neither should we.’ (Follow him CONSUMES 1 ACTION POINT)
time to get our hands dirty again, lets get to work lads.

>>2897658
>>‘Neither should we.’ (Follow him CONSUMES 1 ACTION POINT)

‘Neither should we.’

‘Sir?’

You break into a brisk pace, your boots scraping against the tar as you move to catch up with the Admiral. You know it could be nothing. A panicked Fusou wasn’t something that you were going to automatically correlate with a red alert … but if the Admiral was putting himself into that pile of tasks, you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself by lazing the weekend away while he toiled. The man had practically put his career on the line for you more times than you would for anyone in your position; the least you could do was at least show you cared enough to take the initiative.

It’s, in a way, a little comedic.

You would have never done such a thing before.

‘Admiral!’

He glances over his shoulder, a furrowed brow the first thing you notice as he stops in his tracks. The rest of the group follows suit, right until you catch up. The Admiral steps away from his entourage, the furrow now changing into a puzzled nook.

‘Something wrong?’

‘I was about to ask you,’ you start.

The Admiral snorts, crossing his arms.

‘We’re not sure just yet,’ he replies cryptically, briefly glancing at Fusou and the rest … and then casting a wary gaze around him. ‘I’m catching up right now.’

‘Something’s happened?’

He cocks an eyebrow.

‘Son, one of these days I’m going to pin a medal on your chest for stating the obvious,’ the Admiral grumbles, chewing on his own cheek (And prompting you to shrink in embarrassment). ‘But … if you wanna sate that curiosity of yours so bad …’

>Accompany the Admiral
>Don’t accompany the Admiral
>Write-In

>>2898203
>>Accompany the Admiral

>>2898203
>Accompany the Admiral

>>2898203
>>Accompany the Admiral

>>2898203
>>Accompany the Admiral

>>2898203
>Accompany the Admiral

>Accompany the Admiral
not a day without trouble, that be us