‘I wouldn’t be here if the override wasn’t.’

As if echoing her point, you hear the light click of her arm, the artificial muscles rippling as she raises the prosthetic and gives her own shoulder a light squeeze. You feel yourself shrink as guilt encompasses you like a shameful shroud, remembering just who the woman before you was. Who she always would be, regardless of what the winds of fate carried with them: Morrigan Fisher is the White Hawk of Arrakis ... and you are a spoiled brat that hadn’t even singed his nose in the raw theater of battle.

You are reminded of your place in the scheme of things, Scion or no.

‘Sorry,’ you mutter, genuinely apologetic.

The light hum of her mechanical limb rings in your ears as she attaches herself to you once more.

‘How sorry?’

>Write-In

>>3587214
>Write-In
Turn our head and kiss her.

“This sorry.”

>>3587214

I'll support>>3587226

>>3587226
sounds cute as hell, supporting

>>3587226
+1

>>3587226
Thats super cute. Lets do it.

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You turn your head and peck her on the lips, mumbling your apology through a muffled struggle of lip movement. Morrigan squeals as Jotun drops from your fingers, onto the carpeted floor. Your foreheads touch; the whir of her prosthetic touches the side of your face, artificial fingers under the cloak of pseudo-flesh gently pressing against your cheek in a gentle caress. Uncertainty falls over her gaze, a hesitant expression etched upon her visage as her naked form presses itself close to you. Her breath teases your lips, prompting you to finally, finally, press your advantage. Your hands grasp her breasts, thumb and index rolling her pink nipples as you suck and bite on her lower lip, her strength keeping you in place, voice threatening to break and cry out through the corridors of her home. The underside of her breasts whisper the telling weight of her bountiful chest, as your thumb and wrist motion to lift and press ... and squeeze.

She doesn’t squeal or moan; you are rewarded, instead, with a great release of air from her lungs, her back arching and the mechanisms of her legs twitching with the surrender of her body to your, admittedly, amateurish ministrations. Her breasts are large and round, pale with the odd scar, the odd scratch from her days on the battlefield. You latch on and suckle and tug while one hand runs up the small of her back ... and the other trails down between the mounds of her round buttocks—

‘Y-You sure this isn’t your ... f-first time?’

It’s really hard to keep yourself from feeling so smug in all this.

There were some things a man just couldn’t help but take pride in a job wel done, after all.

‘You really like my breasts, don’t you?’ she asks the obvious, the coy attempt rendered ineffective by the sheer arousal in her voice. You neither confirm nor deny, suckling on the other teat as her arms wrap around you, mewling and crying—

‘Oh, that looks nice.’

You practically drag your teeth along her areolae as your head snaps back ... and for some reason, fall over forwards, barely catching yourself from toppling over Morrigan in sheer shock. Your arms rest on their elbows, either side, just as Morrigan’s legs laid, thighs apart and ankles pointing towards each other, she herself propping herself up on her elbows in an attempt to keep the both of you from crashing. In some strange law of the physical universe, however, you find yourself nestled between her breasts again ... and staring over one mound to see the curious, pink and excited face of one Iona Fisher.

‘I-Iona?’

She nods, as if it wasn’t at all odd to catch her sister and you in the midst of—

‘You definitely like breasts, don’t you, Lord Mishima?’

You feel like a lightning strike would be a mercy right now. You don’t even dare to look your former Instructor in the face.

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‘I, uh ... ah ...’

You’re not sure what feels more agonizing: the fact that you’d been caught initiating coitus ... or that the baby sister of your partner was crouching and observing you with wide, curious eyes. Your pants are tight; your throat is dry ... and your mind feels as though it was initiating a Fold without protective Polar Shielding.

‘I wonder if mine would be satisfying as yours, sis ...’

Something in your mind definitely does die at those words.

>Write-In

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>>3587328
>Write-In
“...perhaps when you’re done with school?”
>dont break eye contact with iona
>squeeze morrigan titties.

>>3587328
>Iona, your boobs are good in their own way and they still have time to grow but i must ask why are you watching me and your sister get it on and how long have you been watching?

>>3587328
>>3587357
lel. do it.

>>3587328
I'll support >>3587366.

>>3587357
>>3587366
Flipping a coin.
God damn it.

File: raffs.gif (1.9 MB, 320x200)

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>>3587440

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‘Ah, I’m sure that they’d be ... quite a sight to behold.’

You’re not even sure what you’re doing. Your hands are either side of an Instructor that was probably some mix of mortification and arousal. You can feel Morrigan’s heat brushing against your painfully confined manhood, barely separated by three layers of fabric. Face half-buried between Fisher’s considerable mounds coupled with yet another attractive young lady staring at you in such an expectant manner ... you can’t help but at least be polite about it.

You are, after all ... a Scion.

Keeping a cool head at times of crisis was practically a job description.

‘May I ask, however ... why you’re acting the part of the voyeur?’

She, at least, has the capacity to be embarrassed about it ... if only with the indication of a redder hue to her cheeks. You’re thankful for that; you didn’t want to think of her as a pervert after five years of knowing her. That just wouldn’t do.

‘Oh, um ... I came upstairs to get you, but, um ... I saw the both of you going at it and wondered if it’d be rude to interrupt again,’ Iona confesses, much to your ... understanding. ‘I guess I just got sort of ... curious, I guess? I didn’t want to, uh, act like I didn’t, um ... that is to say, ah ... I thought that it was all quite ... impressive?’

She doesn’t look you in the eye.

You’re at least able to raise yourself from the valley between Morrigan’s breasts in your attempt to rectify that.

‘Thank you.’

Compliments were nice.

Almost as nice as those pastries from the Cantonian South Coast. You wonder if you’d be able to procure some during your off days; logistics weren’t known to set-up anywhere permanently, but with your influence, you’d probably be able to—

‘Iona, if I let you have a baby with him, would you just get to the point?’

She stands to attention rather quickly at that statement.

‘O-Oh, right! Um ... Mister Ryosuke’s downstairs at the front door. He says, uh ... he’s been waiting like three weeks for you to get a move on, so you’d better be filling her womb until she’s close to bursting up there before he goes into Rhysode without you.’

You sigh. Ryosuke could be so impatient sometimes. It’d only been an hour, at most.

‘So, should I tell him that you’re ... occupied?’

‘No,’ you grumble, burying yourself between Morrigan’s breasts again ... to which she giggles and wraps her arms around your head, gentling easing the both of you down as you manage the bare minimum of a polite request. ‘tell him I’ll be five minutes.’

Iona claps her hands together, nodding energetically. ‘Of course!’

You’re dead to all else but the rhythm of Morrigan’s heartbeat ... and the hiss of a closing door. You mumble one last thing under your breath. You’re not even sure what it’s about at this point.

‘What is it?’

You glance up.

>‘You were ... kidding about Iona and I, uh ...’
>‘I still think the Hellion’s better than the Piranha.’
>‘Nothing.’
>‘I should get going. Before Ryosuke and Rosaria catch us like this.’
>Write-In

>>3587587
>>Write-In
"I'll come back for you. Promise."

Mushy AND Foreshadowing

>>3587587
>‘You were ... kidding about Iona and I, uh ...’

>>3587601
supportin

>>3587601
nothin' like planting death flags
suportting

>>3587601
Kek. F to plotfu.

Forgive me, my negro brethren. I will be running in about 30 minutes. Currently have some things to sort out.

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Just caught up. The writing's good, the characters are fun, the premise looks like it has a lot of potential, tits are nice, and I can't wait wait for the mech action. Keep up the good work, Mechanic.

>>3589318
we live, fuckin hell with these connection errors

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You focus on what’s important.

Which, at this moment, happens to be a reestablishment of ... professionalism, if only for the time being. You push yourself up from the downed form of an amused Morrigan Fisher, letting out a sigh that you can only hope ejected some of your current ... frustrations with it. Wearing a tired, humorless half-smile, you keep your eyes locked with Fisher’s strikingly blue irises, one that prompts a laugh that she halts by the second shake of her throat. At the very least, now you were aware how your old seniors felt whenever they brought a companion back for extracurricular activities. Your passage was now, for better or worse, complete.

‘We’ll continue this later,’ you declare; a promise that you intend to fulfill, come orbital bombardment or cloud strike. ‘You can hold me to that.’

A quick movement of naked legs unwittingly thrusts you forward, locking around the small of your back and almost causing you to tumble into the embrace of your former Instructor. Her hands cup your cheeks, pulling you in further towards her. The tip of her nose brushes against yours, a triumphant—yet oddly warm—smirk detailed in the corners of her lips.

Your throat seems to constrict any additions to your previous statement.

‘I will,’ she says, teasingly, in acceptance of your offer. A pair of hooked legs slide down your buttocks, the whirr of gears and artificial muscle strands sliding down your cheeks until her elbows rest upon the floor, propping up her form as they had before.

You get to your feet, grabbing your bag ... and the figure of the white Jotun, harmlessly still upon the floor. Maybe you—

‘Keep it.’

A swift turn has you regarding the now-standing form of Morrigan Fisher, tossing her blue strands of hair over her shoulder. Your eyes dart between her and the model; you’d held onto it for all of four years ... and it wasn’t as if you couldn’t just—

‘If I wanted it back, I’d have asked you for it a long time ago, soldier.’

You say the same thing you say that day in the office.

‘Thank you.’

Putting the Jotun away and throwing your bag over your shoulder, you take quick strides towards the automated door, hissing open and revealing the—

You pause in your motion as something strikes you by the first step out of her room.

‘I’ll be staying at Jabba’s Palace,’ you reveal, turning to face Morrigan. ‘If you ... you know ...’

Morrigan hums as she drapes her towel over her shoulders, tapping her cheek as she regards you.

You don’t wait for her reply.

You’re out the front door without further ceremony, immediately finding yourself facing an irritable Ryosuke on the front lawn of the Fisher sisters’ domicile, glaring at you as though you’d cut the line on a weekend special in the cafeteria.

>'Come on, I need to do my gift shopping.' (Head into the City)
>Head to the Practice Hangars
>Head to the Academy Plaza
>Head to the Stadium
>Head to the Instructors' Lounge
>Head to the Gardens/Lake
>Head to the Academy Staff Domiciles
>Try the Archive
>Write-In

>>3589513
>Try the Archive
Need to find our other teammate. He has been called a bookworm.

>>3589513
>>Try the Archive

>>3589513
>>Head to the Academy Staff Domiciles
find wray.

>>3589513
>>Try the Archive

As expected, the Archives were more of a couples’ hub than it was a center of learning and knowledge. Pristine walls, white faux-wooden bookcases and holographic projections (that has thus far, remained unsullied by the fingers of the departing class) decorated the great hall, with tables and shelves filled with dataslates and tabs detailing the intricacies of the current universe. You’re able to point out sections dedicated to mathematics, the physics of space travel and fold, the history of the Empire, works of literature both popular and historical ... to name but a few. The Archives were absolutely titanic, with every datapad and tablet laced with more knowledge than one could conceivably visit on their own convenience. Even with the network of knowledge that spanned the galactic emptiness, it comforted you somewhat that there were some things that you still had go analog for ... not that any of the other attendees cared, using the corners of shelves and rows of datapads to engage in activities more suited for the confines of a bedroom.

You don’t remember it being this way during the examination weeks.

Time and place for everything, indeed.

‘Wow ...’

You can’t help but feel smug at Rosaria’s awed state, a smidgen of pride imprinting itself upon your chest as she rotates in front of you, taking in the sight of the hall.

‘These are the Archives,’ you start, stepping forward ... and keeping your voice low. Even as a graduate, you didn’t want Instructor Pence marching out with a trolley to beat you over with. Scion or no, there were certain ... lines that you didn’t cross; Instructor Pence’s war on timbre and volume was one of those.

Ryosuke, the shivering mass that was using you as the equivalent of a blast shield, knew that better than most. ‘Why are we here?’ he hisses, cutting you off from your attempt at elaboration.

‘Why are you here?’

‘I followed you!’

‘You could’ve waited outside!’

‘No way. Ethel and her gang were at the stairs; you think I’m suicidal?’

‘Who told you to flirt with the—’

‘Gentlemen.’

You feel a chill go down your spine. Turning on your heel, you come face-to-face with a cyclopean visor, fixed upon a man that looked like a cross between a fossil and the mask of death. Even with the advantage of height and size, you don’t dare make any sudden movements, lest you find yourself just another tally mark on Yodin Pence’s wall.

The Academy’s Archivist is rarely a creature of patience, if at all.

‘Need I remind you that being graduates does not exempt you from what is required of you within these walls?’

‘Yes, Instructor.’

He nods ... and sniffs the air.

‘Senpai?’ Rosaria obliviously calls out to you.

‘You are ... a spacer.’

She stops in her tracks, eyes wide.

>>3589766
>Try to run interference
>Declare her as your current responsibility
>Move to leave
>Keep quiet
>Write-In

>>3589768
>>Declare her as your current responsibility
damn blind people and their heightened other senses

>>3589768
>>Declare her as your current responsibility

>>3589768
>Fisk brought her here but forgot to set her up with proper accommodations. I'm going to set her up til the dorm rep gets back so she's tagging along with me sir.

>>3589768
>>Try to run interference

>>3589768
>Declare her as your current responsibility

>>3589768
>Declare her as your current responsibility

Wording here is good tho >>3589774

‘She’s with me,’ you declare, stepping forward in an attempt to place yourself between her and the ancient Archivist ... who immediately turns a strange shade of purple at your action.

‘Does she have the required documentation for authorized entry?’

You don’t miss the crisp tone.

Nor do you pay heed to the discouraging look Ryosuke gives you.

‘No, but—’

‘Then she is not allowed in here, is she?’

‘She’s under Fisk,’ you clarify, keeping your tone as even and respectful as you can manage. ‘He’s arranged for her enrolment and registration, but the Dormitories and the registrar haven’t gotten around to keying her into the system just yet. Currently, I’ve ... taken responsibility for her presence on the Academy and I can—’

‘I did not ask for details,’ he cuts in dismissively, a low gravely quality to his voice as he—for lack of better word—eyes her with an expression of what you can only guess to be disdain ... or repulsion. ‘She does not have the authority or express permission to be on these grounds, never mind these halls. If you wish to browse to your leisure, you may, but I will not tolerate a ,,, a breach of law in these Archives.’

‘I’m a fully commissioned soldier under the Imperial Aegis, Instructor,’ you return evenly, feeling your patience—slowly but surely—wearing thin by the syllable. ‘She is allowed entry as a civilian by my authority.’

‘Not in these halls,’ Pence counters, the ghost of a sneer carving its lines into his visage. You catch several couples giving your little gathering the odd glance before disappearing past a data shelf or hurrying towards another exit as the smaller man squares up to you, now standing half a bare foot away ... and prompting your might companion to shoot a worried glance his shoulders tighten at Pence’s sudden, aggressive motion.

‘She is allowed,’ you reiterate, keeping your voice even. ‘As a civilian and under my—’

‘At my discretion,’ Pence cuts in again, craning up to face you. The older man’s nose, however, barely manages an inch to your chin. Hands back and glaring upwards, he resembles a wounded tiger more than he does any measure of human being.

‘She is not a risk.’

‘Then she can not be a risk outside,’ Pence declares. ‘This is a hall of learning and a house for knowledge from ages past. Not a stopover for her ilk.’

Ryosuke motions to say something.

But in the end, they are only motions.

‘I ... I’ll wait outside.’

You turn to Rosaria in surprise, her apprehensive tone betraying her attempt at compliance.

‘Rosa—’

‘It’s ... okay, Senpai.’

Pence stares at her for a while ... before nodding.

‘You are a more sensible creature than your Master, girl.’

It's hard to miss Ryosuke's balled fist.

>>3589899

>Leave with Rosaria
>Allow Rosaria to wait outside
>Punch Pence
>‘Watch your tongue, filth.’ (Upper Gothic, Scion)
>Write-In

>>3589902
>>‘Watch your tongue, filth.’ (Upper Gothic, Scion)

>>3589902
>‘Watch your tongue, filth.’ (Upper Gothic, Scion)

>>3589902
>>‘Watch your tongue, filth.’ (Upper Gothic, Scion)

>>3589902
>>Allow Rosaria to wait outside
>Ryosuke wait outside with her while i go look for our bookworm friend. No need to respond to such low class behavior from someone i expected better from

I'll be continuing later tonight. So, in about a few hours.

>>3589902
>>>‘Watch your tongue, filth.’ (Upper Gothic, Scion)

>>3589902
>‘Watch your tongue, filth.’ (Upper Gothic, Scion)
>Leave with Rosaria

>>3589902
We're better than simple goading.

>>Allow Rosaria to wait outside
>Ryosuke, wait outside with her while I go look for our bookworm friend. No need to respond to such low class behavior from someone I expected better from.

‘Watch your tongue, filth.’

You shouldn’t have done that.

That’s what happens within the atto-second that follows, and your frustration and arrogance checks itself back into its restraints. Regret encompasses you as Pence’s face turns ashen; you find a stretching sensation in the outline of your eyes as you find yourself surprised by your outburst ... as does the small audience that paid witness to your show of indiscretion. The proud Scion within you wilts, disappointed at having shown such emotion ... and you find yourself between a stammer and an apology that’s not even a coherent sentence. You get as far as an “Uh”.

You don’t miss the mix of disgust, curiosity, awe and disapproval that is around you.

Even Ryosuke, spontaneous and uncompromising at his best (at worst), is at a loss for words.

You can’t even remember the last time you’d lost your patience in such a manner.

Oh wait, you could—

‘I ...’ the old man starts, barely managing a syllable through a stammer.

Pence, for the first time in the five years that you’d known him ... looks uncertain. You don’t even know why you’d been aggravated to such an extent. It ... wasn’t like you, at all. Even in your more turbulent and rambunctuous months of acclimatization, you had never resorted to your ... uppercrust tongue to get the point across.

You feel all eyes on you.

‘Hey, man ...’

You don’t dare look at Rosaria.

>Insist on your presence
>Leave the Archives
>Write-In

>>3595857
> "I-I was in error."
>>Leave the Archives

>>3595857
>>Insist on your presence
lets go find our Nerd
tho im pretty sure he knows we're here by now

>>3595857
>Insist on your presence.

>>3595857
>>Leave the Archives
>Don't apologize, show no weakness.

>>3595892
And if he's not here? we have no real reason to be besides him and if we leave he's just as likely to seek us out.

>>3595892
>>3595897
Also Maldante likes books, there are no books here, it's all datapads.

>>3595892
nvm im retarded, the nerd likes actual books
there are no books in this place
>>3595904
this anon is right, vote for this other anons

>>3595857
>"I apologize for the outburst"
>Leave the Archives
VAMOS

>>3595884
>>3595939
Apologizing will NOT make this better and if anything make it worse. don't show your belly, leave with your back straight as if you're angry at least.

>>3595904
Changing my vote to this then.

>>3595965
Mech doesn't allow vote changes.

>>3595904
This

You bite down your apology … or non-apology. Your judgment is much too clouded for it to matter at this point … and in invoking the Gothic Tongue, regardless of the context, you’d painted yourself with a brush that you’d rather not have wielded at all. A grunt of frustration escapes you as you turn on your heel, marching towards the exit, bag swinging side-to-side in line with your erratic steps. You try not to cast your gaze up to the shocked masses of your peers and juniors … and hope that your impertinent act didn’t reach any further than it had, undeniably, clawed for itself.

You’re on the steps heading into the plaza before long, the comforting sounds of energetic juniors celebrating the end of the Academy’s semester drowning out any thoughts of regret that you might have. Running your hands over your face, you try to calm yourself down, trying your best not to devolve into an insane wreck. You’d done enough damage to your reputation with that petulant act.

‘Hey …’

Ryosuke’s voice anchors the rest of you to the present.

Turning around, you come face-to-face with the exaggerated wince and grimace of your friend, who looked as though he was at a loss for words himself. In all likelihood, he probably was—

‘Senpai?’

Rosaria steps out from behind Ryosuke, her expression suddenly … fearful.

‘H-How do you know … Gothic?’

>‘It’s part of the curriculum.’ (Lie [Speech])
>‘Because I was … raised with it. I’m the Scion of House Mishima.’ (Reveal Yourself)
>‘Come on, let’s … we gotta get into town before the shuttles stop.’ (Dismissive/Distract)
>Write-In

>>3596077
>‘It’s part of the curriculum.’ (Lie [Speech])
>wink

>>3596077
>>‘It’s part of the curriculum.’ (Lie [Speech])

>>3596077
>‘Because I was … raised with it. I’m the Scion of House Mishima.’ (Reveal Yourself)

>>3596077
>>‘Because I was … raised with it. I’m the Scion of House Mishima.’ (Reveal Yourself)

>>3596077
>Because I was raised with it. I apologize for putting you and Ryosuke on the spot.

>>3596098
>>3596085
hiding such a thing will hurt more in the long run lads

>>3596077
>>‘Because I was … raised with it. I’m the Scion of House Mishima.’ (Reveal Yourself)

No turning back now, you suppose.

‘Because I was raised with it,’ you reveal, adjusting your bag. ‘I’m the Second Scion to House Mishima, the eldest son to First Scion … my father.’

Her reply isn’t immediate.

You’re not sure if it would come at all, with those wide eyes, slightly slack jaw … until it does. Laughter, however, wasn’t you expected, at all. Ryosuke shrugs as he steps to lean into the partition, leaving the floor—or rather, the stairs—to you. Rosaria clutches her sides, almost doubling over as she shakes … with laughter, the melodic timbre of her voice giving away to something bordering on hysterics. You and Ryosuke share another glance, another shrug, as the both of you wait for her howling to give way for an opportunity to cut in. You’d sent Pence tumbling for words (as much as you felt he deserved it) already … and to do that twice in a day would be an insult to the five years you’d spent growing into your own.

Besides, you didn’t want to give Ryosuke anymore fuel than you’d undeniably handed to him in the last few minutes. You already had to put up with him badgering you about your attitude during your acclimatization period for the last five years.

It takes a while, but her laughter does, thankfully, cease.

‘That-that’s not the sort of thing you should be joking about, Senpai,’ Rosaria says, gathering herself and wiping tears from the corner of her eyes. ‘Your Gothic is … elegant enough to pass for it, though.’

‘Uh-huh.’

She smiles sympathetically, looking to Ryosuke for reassurance.

Ryosuke merely shrugs.

She looks to you again, more than likely expecting streamers and a horn to pop out from your forehead in revealing that it was all some strange prank that she was on the bell-end of. You, however, neither nod nor shake your head. You’d said your part; there was nothing more for you to give than your word … and whether she accepted it or not, ultimately, was up to her. Adjusting the strap of your rucksack, you turn around and step onto the plaza floor, eager to get on with your day. You needed to get into the city and there were—

‘You … you really are a Scion?’

A part of you wishes to hiss her shut at your earliest convenience … but having hissed your irritation at Pence not so long ago, you felt like twice in one day was in excess, even in the common tongue. As much as you enjoyed your station you didn’t feel … comfortable with your identity being spouted so publicly.

‘I am.’

You don’t miss the fear in her eyes as you give your answer … or the step back she takes

It was common enough a reaction for you to not care, however.

>>3596430
>Leave her be, head out yourself
>'It's not that big a deal.' (Tired, Casual)
>'So, you coming or what?' (Irritated)
>'Expected as much.' (Sneer)
>Write-In

>>3596438
>>'It's not that big a deal.' (Tired, Casual)

>>3596438
>>'It's not that big a deal.' (Tired, Casual)

>>3596438
>Ignore her to talk to Ryosuke.
>Anyways Ryosuke before Pence interrupted us, I was trying to find Maldante. I already ran into everyone else but him, Sansa and Wray so I was trying to touch bases before I left for the city to shop and get my accommodations. Any ideas?

>>3596438
>'It's not that big a deal.' (Tired, Casual)

>>3596438
>>'It's not that big a deal.' (Tired, Casual)

>>3596438
>>'It's not that big a deal.' (Tired, Casual)

>>3596438
>>'It's not that big a deal.' (Tired, Casual)

>>3596634
>‘I’m sure you have … questions.’ (Give her a turn)

>>3596634
>>‘I’m sure you have … questions.’ (Give her a turn)

>>3596634

>‘I’m sure you have … questions.’ (Give her a turn)

>>3596634
>Ryosuke unless you want me to throw you to the various women you’ve angered not one word. I’m pissed enough at slipping up with Pence.
>If I wanted all the bull crap that accompanied being a scion I’d have told you about it immediately Rosaria.
Now
>‘I’m sure you have … questions.’ (Give her a turn)

The silence, however, is uncomfortable enough to prompt you into action, despite your disinclination to do so. It’s not that you wanted to do it, but for a Scion to leave someone in such a state was unbecoming and—no pussyfooting about it—rude. You’d taken her under your wing (at least for the time being); you could at least afford the courtesy to allow her to be at ease around you.

‘It’s not that big a deal.’

Apparently, it was.

Or else she wouldn’t have prostrated herself in immediacy upon your words.

Ryosuke, unsurprisingly, chooses to look on in amusement.

‘My … my sincere apologies!’

Another crowd was beginning to gather. The din of activity had turned into a focus on the antics of one former Colony Fleet Inhabitant that had chosen a very public area to show her reverence of your station. Unable to come up with a less physical solution, you reach down for the—fearful-looking, you might add—kneeling blonde, pulling her to her feet and tugging her alongside you as you make a beeline for less-inhabited areas. Ryosuke seems to follow behind you, barely holding back his delight at the spectacle.

‘M-My Lord, where are we—’

‘Anywhere but here,’ you throw back, promising punishment if she so much as uttered another word. Apparently able to read between the lines, she adheres to your unspoken request.

You manage to find a secluded patch, somewhere between the Gardens and the Plaza. You’re not quite hidden between trees and bushes as the seniors were on excursions, but this would have to do. Ryosuke, your ever-present friend, chooses to crouch and leer at you next to a stone bench, in anticipation of your next move. You want to mouth off at him to go somewhere he could actually be something that wasn’t a spectator to the … spectacle that you’d unwittingly initiated, but you possessed neither the persuasive potential nor the physical prowess to throw him where you’d rather he be.

The prick.

‘I’m … I’m sorry to not have recognize—’

You find your irritation scratching at you again. You raise your hand, calling for a stop to her utterances. Right now … you needed to think.

There wasn’t much damage done in the plaza. It was more of a scene than a transgression or misuse of your station … which you’d pulled off in the library. You couldn’t fault her for being a party to that; not when it was your temper that had failed keep your … tendencies in check.

‘My Lord?’

You sigh. Perhaps it would be best to address the more immediate concern.

‘You don’t have to call me that.’

‘But you’re—’

‘I am,’ you cut her off, feeling a sudden pull of desperation in your gut. ‘But please … don’t.’

Rosaria bites her bottom lip, turning her gaze downward … and nodding.

>‘I’m sure you have … questions.’ (Give her a turn)
>‘Now, come on.’ (Get a move on)
>Write-In

>>3596654
>‘I’m sure you have … questions.’ (Give her a turn)

>>3596654
>>‘I’m sure you have … questions.’ (Give her a turn)

>>3596654
>>‘I’m sure you have … questions.’ (Give her a turn)

>>3596654
>>‘I’m sure you have … questions.’ (Give her a turn)

>>3596654
>>‘I’m sure you have … questions.’ (Give her a turn)
>>

>>3596654
>>‘Now, come on.’ (Get a move on)

Running in about ... one hour, maybe forty-five minutes.

‘I’m sure that you have … questions,’ you state, tentatively. You’d almost forgotten how the commoners got into a tizzy over just who you were; it was one of the reasons Gerard had been adamant about your cover being so … overt during your break with his family; that and the fact that you wanted the wholesale of the … “peasant experience”.

Rosaria, to her credit, showcases some hesitance, despite your openness. ‘I … I do,’ she states, setting her bag upon the ground. ‘I’m just … I guess I … wouldn’t know where to … begin?’

You nod.

‘Take your time,’ you reassure her, checking your wrist.

‘No need to be scared: he’s got no bark or bite!’

You shoot Ryosuke a glare.

He sticks out his tongue.

Friendship. Gotta love it.

‘I suppose that … the place to start with is … thank you for showing such kindness to someone of my—’

>Allow her to finish with her verbal kowtowing
>Cut her off and declare your fondness for her, regardless of her background
>Write-In

>>3597020
>Cut her off and declare your fondness for her, regardless of her background
>I don't know why. Maybe in another universe I had a closer connection with you and it leaked over.

>>3597020
>Rosaria can you drop the super humble downtrodden spacer schtick? I was doing this to be nice and it costs me nothing, don't get all weird on me now.

File: Enosan makes such full women.jpg (148 KB, 850x1554)

148 KB JPG

>>3597023
Rosaria: This is just like my Imperial Romance Dramas!

>>3597020
>>Write-In
get on with it

>>3597020
>>3597023
This

You rub your temples, letting out a grumble of impatience. Her grovelling ceases with the release of your breath as you regard her with a gaze practically dripping with your frustration. Bag fallen to the side and your logic centre force-feeding you a myriad of solutions ranging from the nonsensical to the truly far-fetched, you try your best to suggest address Rosaria’s … current state of reverence. You didn’t want people to misunderstand; you absolutely did appreciate the privileges that came with your station. You loved that people paid their dues to the name Mishima; that people understood what it meant to be of the name, of the blood in a way that even your cousins couldn’t comprehend. You’d been born into it … moulded by it.

But to have Rosaria be mistaken that your stature had anything to do with who you were in your judge of character was something you refused to allow to happen, at all. Neither do you judge her by her own background.

‘Rosaria.’

To you, it’s merely the act of helping someone with nowhere else to turn to.

It was barely charity, by your standards. Barely a scratch on any financial institution of your House’s stock, if a whisper at all.

‘You don’t have to act … I’d appreciate if you’d drop that Revered Lord stuff, if you would,’ you bite out, barely keeping your emotions in check. ‘You being from a Colony Fleet and my status as a Scion has nothing to do with—’

You cut yourself off, wondering if you’d be able to afford to house her without the privileges available to you. Perhaps you would; there were cheaper hotels … and being from a Colony Fleet, she probably wouldn’t mind staying at an unserviced rental spot somewhere within Ryosuke’s budget. Irregardless, however, it didn’t change that you would help her. One helped those in need when one could afford to … and you could certainly afford to.

‘For the most part, anyway,’ you concede, if only partly. Her frown tells you that you were making things a little too complicated for your taste. ‘I’m just … you look like you could use a leg up, at least. I know how it’s like not to have anyone touching down and having no one to pull them—’

‘Hem-hem.’

You throw up a middle finger to Ryosuke, not bothering to even look at him.

‘Anyway … I’d like you to at least … see me as someone willing to give you some sort of … well, fall-breaker, even if nothing else. From a senpai to a kouhai, all right?’

‘Would you like some butter with that corn?’

You glare at your crouched friend.

Rosaria giggles as you roll your eyes … and immediately adopts a more relaxed look, letting out a sigh and placing her hands on her chest.

‘Then,’ she starts, before dropping into a deep bow. ‘I am in your care, Lord—I mean … Senpai.’

You nod, thankful for the quick resolution.

‘But, if you don’t mind me … asking a few more things, Lord—Senpai?’

‘I’ve allowed as much, yes.’

She bites her lip, hesitant. ‘I … I was wondering, um … why are you here?’

>‘Mostly? Because I wanted to be a Mech Pilot since I was a kid.’ (Dreamer)
>‘Officially? My uncle thought I needed some growing up to do and had me come here to do it.’ (Duty)
>‘Trade Houses have occasionally seen fit to send their heirs to extracurricular … modes of learning such as these to adopt knowledge.’ (Necessity)
>‘That’s for me to know and me alone.’ (Dismissive)
>Write-In

>>3597057
>i like giant robots

>>3597057
>‘Mostly? Because I wanted to be a Mech Pilot since I was a kid.’ (Dreamer)

>>3597057
>Write-In
“Chicks dig giant robots”

>>3597058
>>3597060
Everyone likes giant robots!

>>3597065
I like my bewbies like i like my robots, giant

You feel your cheeks turn a little warm at the question.

Sure, it was easy to divulge the story that your uncle had pushed the idea to your grandfather to prepare you for a grander stage on the universe; that you’d practically experienced the galaxy’s offerings through word and example over a pair of dirty hands elbow deep in the muck of reality, just like how your uncle had said it. It wouldn’t be the whole truth, however. After all, as a Scion, you had your right to refusal. You didn’t have to be here; it was true that many Houses sent their children to the Aegis to make something of an asset out of them … but you? You were here because you wanted to be.

Raised on tales of titanic knights defending the sovereignty of the realm, how could you not take the opportunity to be.

Disappointing as the reality of the situation was … you can’t help but feel a little bit nostalgic at the sheer wonderment of the prospect of being in a Chapter, leading the Imperium into an age by the swing of a Heat Blade and the long strides of the Jotun.

‘I love mecha.’

It’s a little childish, but weren’t all dreams, in one way or another?

‘You wanted to be a pilot?’

You can’t help but laugh.

‘I don’t think that there was much else I dreamed about being other than just taking my responsibilities as a Scion,’ you admit, smiling despite the implication. ‘Money, power and reverence … when you’re a kid with more bodyguards than friends and a view from one orbital palace or another for fifteen standard, you tend to wonder if there were more to things than just watching your father dressing down another suit from a conglomerate or glaring at another Trade House Scion. I just happened to pick up Mecha as my interest along the way, I guess? Not like they were hard to miss. I don’t think there was a Chapter out there I didn’t at least have an idea about by the time I was thirteen. Had a huge collection of Imperial Mecha in my rooms, too. Even as a Scion, it—’

You immediately cease your rant, cheeks redder than you’d like them to be. Rosaria, however, bless her, only had anticipation and curiosity upon her face, eating up your little tirade with the same enthusiasm you had for your annual pilots’ feature. Still … there was still the question of your integrity as a Scion, and friendly or no, there were lines you weren’t quite willing to embarrass yourself by crossing just yet.

Well, not to the extent that Fisher had, anyway.

No recovering from that.

‘You get the idea,’ you finish quickly, clearing your throat and coughing into a fist. ‘I … followed my dreams. For the most part, in any case. I didn’t make the decision to come here, but … even if they were to give it to me, I think I’d be in the Aegis, anyway.’

In direct violation of your father’s expectations and your mother’s plans, you might add.

But that wasn’t something you wanted to tell her … just yet.

‘I see,’ she communicates neutrally; you recognize the tone as the same one that your father’s secretaries take in high-stakes ventures. It’s much less dry, however, so you suppose it could only be a good thing.

‘Shall we get going?’

You hear Ryosuke shuffling to get to his feet.

‘Wait, I have … one more question, Senpai.’

You nod, allowing it.

‘Are you sure you don’t … mind me being around you? If people find out that you’re helping me, then …’

>Write-In

>>3597123
>You have watched to many drama and played to many Otome games.

>>3597123
>Then what? My father won't care, my mother won't care, most of my family won't care or assume i'm trying to bed, which no I am not, and anyone else who might object either lacks the power to do anything or were going to be jerks to me anyways. You've been watching too many dramas. Being nice to a girl who had a run of bad luck isn't going to ruin or even inconvenience me.

>>3597143
This

Time for even more space pinoy dramas

>>3597163
Now you know how to disable Malaysia.

Just throw Pinoy soaps at us.

>>3597123
>>3597143
This

I kind of wanted to see that could have been waifu had we not gone to fisher first.

Just to mess with our head, both of then

‘Whatever happens is for me to concerned with, not you’ you announce firmly, crossing your arms. ‘My decision to have you around me in any capacity is based on my judgment that you’re at the very least in need of someone to keep you from falling over with that first step. I don’t care how people see me. As far as I care to be concerned with, I’m a Senpai giving a Kouhai a leg up. It’s nothing for the history books and there’s no rule out there that dictates that I can’t offer you the same dignity or courtesy that you’ve given me … even without knowing who I am.’

She looks down, seemingly embarrassed.

You decide to finish it off quickly.

‘I guess what I’m saying is that … it doesn’t cost me to offer a helping hand out once in a while. Not enough to dent my family’s coffers, anyway.’

Enough to dent your allowance, maybe … but Sansa had been nice enough to impart how valuation worked on the level of the common man within your first year of attendance. The least you could do was pay that debt forward. Colony Fleet Inhabitants were met with enough disdain that the locals of inhabited and terraformed worlds played on their lack of bartering skills to throw them into false choices. You have no doubt that Rosaria would have fallen for the same traps you almost did … and then some.

‘Is that good enough for you?’

She nods meekly.

‘We finally heading into town?’

>‘All right, let’s get going. The shuttles should still be up.’
>Roam around some more
>Write-In

>>3597267
Because you're a Scion, it's kind of expected for you to sleep around. As far as the gossip mill are concerned, you and Emilio are secret lovers engaged in a forbidden tryst between two rival Houses because no one's heard a story about you getting some Governor's wife, daughter or niece pregnant ... or any orgies with your signature on it.

>>3597279
>>‘All right, let’s get going. The shuttles should still be up.’

>>3597279
>>‘All right, let’s get going. The shuttles should still be up.’

>>3597279
>‘All right, let’s get going. The shuttles should still be up.’

>>3597279
>‘All right, let’s get going. The shuttles should still be up.’

>>3597281
>‘All right, let’s get going. The shuttles should still be up.

So far fisher and the other schrodinger waifu I kind of want to see.

>>3597279
>>‘All right, let’s get going. The shuttles should still be up.’

>>3597279
>>Roam around some more
I WANT TO COLLECT ALL OF THE POKEMON

Good morning lads, don't mind me. Just wishing you a lot a good Monday to come for those in the States and a Happy Week to you folks already starting on your five day wage grind.

I'll be running in 10 minutes. Promise.

>>3598601
Actually I lied. Running now.

File: Sansa.jpg (82 KB, 850x601)

82 KB JPG

It takes some manoeuvring , but you’re able to convince the shuttle conductor to allow Rosaria on board. Having no actual, tangible identification would undoubtedly be an obstacle for her until Fisk finally bothered to remember something that didn’t involve his Psycho Frame Prototype or unwitting sophomores and naive freshmen being tricked into becoming his newest batch of test subjects. Until that happened, though, she was your responsibility. The conductor, to his credit, doesn’t stop giving her the eye until she’s in her seat across from you, Ryosuke right next to her and propping his hands behind his neck as the shuttle begins to make the thirty minute journey into city limits.

Outside, you spy one of the previously-docked Hellions stepping out of the hangar, rifle in hand.

It’d probably the last you saw of the old girl.

‘You know, all things considered, Sansa’s doing an all right job as head of the committee.’

You shrug. You hadn’t thought much of Sansa’s efforts in organizing the graduation party. At least, not much beyond the worry on whether or not she’d be able to cope with two intensive schedules. She wasn’t like Ryosuke or Gerard; her involvement with the Imperial Aegis was strictly to boost her credentials in the medical field. She’d be here for at least another two standard years here, and if she was as lucky as she liked to be, would be on a Naval vessel or part of an Aegis battlegroup as one of the medical rotations within four standard. Having been extra irritable in the last eight standard months, the only thing you’d paid mind in regards to her involvement with the committee was that you hoped that it wasn’t driving her to insanity.

Then again, considering that she wanted a practitioner’s license in at least three disciplines before she turned thirty … maybe she’d jumped off that cliff the moment she decided on her career path. You know you’d never survive a week of her workload, never mind the addition of the committee for the graduation party … and all the baggage that brought along.

‘Well, she took the job,’ you start, sounding a little more dismissive than you intend to be. ‘I’d expect her to do well by default.’

‘That Scion mentality, huh?’

‘Senpai?’

You raise your head. ‘Hm?’

‘Do you mind if I … ask a question?’

‘We’ve got about half an hour before we reach Rhysode Alpha,’ you state dryly, briefly glancing at the conductor, who was at the head of the shuttle and keying into a console. ‘So, sure. We need to pass the time, anyway.’

Rosaria bites her bottom lip.

‘What’s … it like being a Scion? I … I’ve heard rumours and caught bits and pieces, but … would you mind telling me what it’s … really like?’

You glance at the ceiling, feeling thoughtful.

>>3598609
>‘Mostly? Lonely.’
>‘Nothing like it. Folding from one world to another, being able to get anything you want on command …’
>‘There’s money, I guess … and big hallways and a lot of orbital palaces that you can never find your way in.’
>‘You meet a lot of unique people, I suppose. I met a few Imperial Heirs in my time.’
>‘That’s none of your business.’
>Write-In

>>3598617
>‘You meet a lot of unique people, I suppose. I met a few Imperial Heirs in my time.’

>>3598617
>"I mean, if you're expecting me to tell you how amazing it is, it's...not, really. Mostly a lot of meeting expectations and being treating like a object or untouchable idol instead of a person. Gets old."
>‘You meet a lot of unique people, I suppose. I met a few Imperial Heirs in my time.’

>>3598609
>"Having everything at your fingertips, but out of your family's legacy, never your own".

>>3598609
>>‘You meet a lot of unique people, I suppose. I met a few Imperial Heirs in my time.’

>>3598617
>>3598626
this

>>3598617
>>3598626
supporting this.

File: Mother Dearest.jpg (171 KB, 850x1196)

171 KB JPG

Maybe you were taking it for granted a little … too much. However, that didn’t change the fact that nothing in your fifteen years shifting station, accompanying one parent or another whenever you had the half-opportunity to even be with them. Your mother was always on the move as your family’s sort-of ambassador and your father needed no explanation as to his responsibilities, being the First Scion. Your grandmother had taken at least some of the duties as your parent, fashioning you into a passable icon for your parents to pick up and present as they so pleased (your mother, mostly; your father, occasionally). That, however, meant that despite your overall … reclusive environment, you’d had the opportunity to encounter hosts of characters ranging from asteroid mining teams to planetary governors to Imperial heirs. The latter of which your mother had not-too-subtly tried to pawn you off to before you’d even begun to think of women as Primal World natives.

‘Senpai?’

‘You meet a lot of people, I suppose,’ you answer, shrugging and leaning forward. ‘My parents didn’t make a lot of time for me, but … whenever they did, it was always to be introduced to someone who turned a wheel in the Imperial machine. Industrial union presidents, planetary governors … you learn which way the food chain pulls and you start to understand how these individuals operate in all that chaos. I think my mother tried to marry me off to a Princess at one point.’

‘Whoa,’ Ryosuke exclaims, tenting his hands and mimicking your pause. ‘What happened?’

‘I’d barely started realizing women weren’t indigenous life-forms from a Primal World,’ you shoot back, frowning. ‘It was more wishful thinking on my mother’s part than it was anything substantial. It wouldn’t have gotten anywhere, anyway. I don’t think any Trade House has married into the Imperial family since the Second Signing. That’s … what? Nine-hundred years ago?’

‘Eight-hundred and forty-three standard.’

You stare at Ryosuke.

‘What? It was the one chapter in the encyclopedia that was actually interesting.’

Interesting was putting it lightly. House Kahmet’s arrangement with the Imperial family had caused such imbalance that a civil war broke out over perceived injustices in the union. It was also the only conflict that actually resulted in the death of an Emperor at the hands of the rebellious Trade Houses. To this day, it was the one war where neither the Trade Houses nor the Imperial Family had decorated with anything beyond memory and melancholy.

‘Anyway, yeah. You meet a lot of different people, but you also get the opportunity to understand the inner and outer workings of the Imperium. You know who to watch out for, who’s worth knowing … that sort of thing.’

Rosaria nods.

‘I … may I ask one more thing, then?’

‘Of course.’

‘Is there any, uh … truth to the, um … that is to say … do Scions really fold planet to planet and … breed with whatever woman they so wish? I-I don’t mean to imply anything by it, of course! I just … it feels like quite the exaggeration that a Scion or a Head of a Trade House would even have the time or take the effort to …’

She buries her face in her hands.

‘I’m sorry! Please forget it!’

You stare at her, amused.

‘Well …’

>Write-In

>>3598792
>>Write-In
"Some do definitely. I don't need to with my butt buddy here."

>>3598792
> "Eh, some do. I've heard some wild stuff, honestly. If what you're asking is code for if *I* have, however, the answer is no. Never really found the time or desire. Especially not with THIS joker here and how he'd never let go of the topic otherwise. Love you, Ryosuke. Not in that way, though."

>>3598800
This

>>3598792
>indeed most do that exact thing, which is where most of the stereotype comes from. but there is a minority who dont do that. Like me, much to my Grandfathers annoyance and exasperation

>>3598792
"They certainly could if they wanted to"
Now let's go

>>3598792
I'll support >>3598800

>>3598800
That's pretty gay, man.

>>3598815
*gasp* So you've been lying to me all this time! Forsooth, how cruel you are!

>>3598792
"Depends on the scion in question. My grandfather did it, my father did not, and the latter would have my manhood mounted on his mantlepiece if I imitated the former. Also Ryosuke, despite having no game of his own whatsoever, would give me shit all day every day if I did."

>>3598792
>>3598842
this

>>3598842
This

‘Some—many—do,’ you admit, rubbing the back of your neck. ‘I can’t deny that there are wild things that those of my … peerage get up to, but if that’s code on whether or not that’s what you think I get up to in my free time, I’m sorry to disappoint you on that front.’

Rosaria waves her hands wildly, amusingly trying to stammer an apology.

‘T-That’s not what I was thinking at all!’

‘Oh?’

‘I … I was just curious,’ she explains herself, looking downward. ‘On the fleet, there … wasn’t much for us to digest outside of intercepted Imperial channels, and … there was this show that our Fleet Administrator took a liking to and I … I couldn’t help but wonder about it.’

‘Fiction generally doesn’t measure up to reality,’ you comment, wearing a small smirk. ‘Fiction takes cues to find reconciliation. Reality doesn’t wait for rhyme or reason for certain things to just be’

She tilts her head, blinking. Maybe you’d gone a little off-topic there.

‘What I mean is that you can’t just throw judgment on someone based on something that you just picked up second-hand without actually experiencing that person’s life and character for yourself,’ you elaborate, shifting slightly to your right; the seats weren’t exactly comfortable. ‘Fiction doesn’t necessarily stray from truth, but the conveniences that a script accounts for hardly covers the entire scope of its subject beyond the checklist of what entertains and keeps viewers in. They’re not exactly … reliable to base perceptions on, whatever the subject matter they cover. Trust me; I watched The Starjammers. An actual Hellion doesn’t manoeuvre by any measure of what they did on that show, I tell you.’

Ryosuke snaps his fingers, catching your attention.

‘Oh yeah; did you know that they might be rebooting that show with Kit Astner’s son?’

You roll your eyes. ‘I hope not. Season six killed any enthusiasm I had for Yudok’s sub-plot. I didn’t even care by the time they finally reached the starbase. The twist that the world was overrun was stupid and came too little, too late.’

‘You said you liked it!’

‘I liked the battle scenes. The show died for me the moment Sakat left.’

Ryosuke admits defeat. Even he couldn’t deny how much that had an impact on his enjoyment. It was nice to know that even as a grubby commoner, he had some standard—

‘So you’ve … never … ?’

You let out a small chuckle, turning back to Rosaria.

‘I can’t say whether it’s because I never had the time for it or was just too prideful to toss my House’s name around so easily … but no; in reference to the unrestrained hedonism that permeates modern streaming services in regards to the lifestyle of Scions, fictional or otherwise … no. I have never, nor do I, in immediacy, intend to indulge.’

Her cheeks turn a little red as she wears a small smile, looking downward.

‘Okay.’

That seemed to be good enough.

It’s not much longer before you’re within the city limits … and with a decision on your hands.

>Head to the Hotel first (Finalize/Iron out the details of your stay and conduct any other business after)
>Stop at the High Street District (Shopping First)
>Pay Sansa a visit (Go the hospital and check up on your friend)
>Write-In

>>3598972
>>Head to the Hotel first (Finalize/Iron out the details of your stay and conduct any other business after)

>>3598972
>>Pay Sansa a visit (Go the hospital and check up on your friend)

>>3598972
>Head to the Hotel first (Finalize/Iron out the details of your stay and conduct any other business after)

>>3598972
>>Head to the Hotel first (Finalize/Iron out the details of your stay and conduct any other business after)
drop our stuff off first and then we go visit Sansa

>>3598972
>>Head to the Hotel first (Finalize/Iron out the details of your stay and conduct any other business after)

File: Happy Girl.jpg (107 KB, 850x1076)

107 KB JPG

Rosaria almost trips on herself again as she gazes in wonder at the deliberately old-fashioned buildings, unused to the uneven cobblestones that made up the pathway leading towards your hotel. The shuttle didn’t pass through the fancier end of the city so much as it went right by it, so you had to unseat yourself about three blocks away, leaving Ryosuke alone to complete his journey to his own accommodation in the city’s central area. You were all along the east side of town, now, surrounded by people that fancied themselves Scions in all but name, curiously gazing at the spirited blonde girl that was your companion. It was hard to keep a smile down, seeing Rosaria’s bag swing side-to-side as she struggled to dance upon the cobblestones, taking in the sight of the tall, rustic buildings that lined the street. She looked like she was acting right out of a dramatic production.

The irony wasn’t lost on you.

‘Slow down,’ you call out, despite yourself, jogging to catch up with the oddly-energetic young woman. ‘People are staring, you know?’

Your attempt at being stern is hampered by your inability to keep your amusement out of your voice. Rosaria ceases her movements, before prancing up towards you and enthusiastically grabbing your hand … and pulling you with her.

There was definitely some strength there.

‘Have you ever seen anything like it?’

‘Yes, in fact,’ you chuckle, pulling your hand back …

To which she immediately deflates.

‘Oh.’

>Write-In

>>3599028
>Dont worry about it, its rather interesting to see someone's reactions to sights they could only dream about

>>3599043
This

>>3599028
>Don't worry. Most here have likely not seen the stellar scenes you have.

>>3599028
>>3599043
This.

>>3599043
This my dude

I was gonna run last night, but no one was around. Are there enough of you here now?

Hoi.

>>3600871
poi

>>3600871
Yep.

>>3600871
Sure.

‘Don’t worry about it.’

She raises her head as you take the lead, gesturing for her to follow.

‘It’s quite interesting to observe how something so inconsequential for those used to it could be so fantastical for someone else,’ you remark, right as she joins you by your side; you draw one or two curious onlookers, but nothing like the incident in the plaza. ‘To me, these are just faux-classical reconstructions with less integrity than a pretentious governor’s palace … but it’s nice to know that you’re getting some mileage out of them.’

‘Faux-classical reconstruction?’

‘A lot of the stone architecture on display isn’t as … aged as it appears to be. It may look fancy to you, but to me, they’re just imitations that the builders didn’t care much for beyond the aesthetic value it would have for a picture frame.’

‘You don’t like it?’

‘I don’t like that they made it so obvious,’ you clarify yourself, gesturing to the cobblestones and the jagged bricks of the walls that adorned the connected terraces that made the block. ‘Especially with the entire aesthetic being relegated into what’s effectively a high street alley made for tourism over actual purpose or tribute.’

‘Maybe they just thought it looked nice?’ she offers.

You open your mouth … before closing it again.

She had a point there.

>‘I’m sure that you’ve seen supernovas and the like on your travels.’
>‘I’ve never been on a Colony Fleet. How does the on-board architecture compare for you?’
>‘This really is your first time in atmosphere on your own, huh?’
>Keep silent
>Write-In

>>3601039
>‘I’m sure that you’ve seen supernovas and the like on your travels.’

>>3601039
>>‘I’m sure that you’ve seen supernovas and the like on your travels.’

>>3601039
>>Keep silent

>>3601039
>>Write-In
"I guess theres that. Maybe I've seen abit too much of this sort of thing for them to seem mundane. You ever get that with seeing one too many pulsar stars?"

>>3601039
>>‘I’ve never been on a Colony Fleet. How does the on-board architecture compare for you?’

>>3601039
>>‘I’ve never been on a Colony Fleet. How does the on-board architecture compare for you?’

‘I’m sure that you’ve seen more impressive sights than a bunch of stones being unevenly layered atop one another …’

‘Probably,’ Rosaria concedes, smiling wistfully. ‘None that I’ve bothered to commit to memory, though. I preferred being in the lower levels tinkering away than being on the upper decks with the others.’

‘Oh?’

Her cheeks turn red as she scratches the back of her head, a nervous laugh shaking her shoulders as she turned to you face you.

‘I … you could say that I was rebel, even in my early years,’ Rosaria explains further, sounding rather hesitant as she divulged her preferences. ‘On the Fleet, everyone’s delegated a role to perform … to keep everything running; to operate on an optimal task system to minimize and maximize all the relevant areas. The system wasn’t exactly … fair on its task allocation matrices. I … I usually loitered around the lower levels with the engineers and the maintenance crews, following my uncle around whenever he thought that I wouldn’t be too much of a hassle to keep around. I developed a … hobby, I suppose, for it. Most of the girls loved to stay upstairs where it was nice and clean and in order … and I was a twelve year-old in greasy overalls that looked forward to Wednesdays with my uncle.’

Wednesday. Imperial Thirdday.

‘I thought everyone on a Colony Fleet was handy by default,’ you comment, eyeing the large building at the junction between the tarmac of the main road and the cobblestone path.

She doesn’t answer.

‘It’s not a wholly … unearned stereotype,’ she concedes, sighing.

>‘I didn’t mean it that way.’
>‘You are, obviously. Fisk wouldn’t have picked you up otherwise.’
>‘Your Expedition Crews make that much apparent.’
>Write-In

>>3601279
>>‘Your Expedition Crews make that much apparent.’

>>3601279
>>‘You are, obviously. Fisk wouldn’t have picked you up otherwise.’

>>3601279
>>‘Your Expedition Crews make that much apparent.’

>>3601279
>‘You are, obviously. Fisk wouldn’t have picked you up otherwise.’

>>3601279
>>Write-In
"it's certainly not a bad stereotype, to be good at a skill. Could have been far worst. Hell, look at *my* stereotype."

>>3601304
Stereotype for Colony Fleet Inhabitants:
>Good at fixing shit on the fly
>Traitorous
>Leeches of Imperial security
>Rude (Kinda true, for the most part, but it's kinda mutual)

>>3601347
Aye, theres always worse stereotypes

>>3601287
>>3601293

>>3601289
>>3601295
Flipping a coin. Coin flipped.

File: Thank the Discord. Images(...).png (1.38 MB, 1024x683)

1.38 MB PNG

‘One that you definitely fulfil … and then some,’ you joke, throwing her an amused look. ‘Fisk wouldn’t have picked you up otherwise.’

While you’re not quite given a verbal reply by your suddenly-bashful companion, the pink complexion that paints her cheeks tells you that she’s at the very least not displeased by your attempt at mixing humour and praise. The both of you chat a little more, occasionally stopping for a few seconds to explain the significance (or lack thereof) of a shop’s design and architecture or trying to discern the why of certain brick placements. Rosaria proved to be of a very curious disposition, listening intently and in fascination of the most mundane explanations that you had to offer. Even for someone who was experiencing city life for the first time (and had been cooped up in a Colony Fleet), she was insatiable with every stop, pointing out teapot merchants, art galleries and novelty stores to the point that you—amusingly—wonder if you’d ever reach your hotel before the thirty-hour day stopped waiting for you.

It goes without saying that you do.

‘We’re here.’

For the common man, Jabba’s Palace was a place of luxury.

Taking up several blocks (and perhaps even a portion of the district) the light pink hotel was unmistakeable, even from the skies. Hundreds of meters of street and two junctures that you can make out with the naked eye, it was the premiere place of temporary residence for any corporate suit or VIP that had a finger and a tick within Rhysode Alpha. It wasn’t overt, of course. Rhysode Alpha was mostly urban sprawl with the intermixing of deliberately-rustic architecture and corporate hubs; to not at least meet the aesthetic of a business-focused township would be a crime on the part of the architect. Grey and blue and resembling a collection of rectangular mirrors reflecting the city and the sky; that’s what it was. A home for the weary corporate elite to be able to throw up their suits and ties and earn their momentary reprieve from their business dealings for the day.

Of course, to you, it was all rather … average.

You supposed that you couldn’t fault—

‘Oh my, how beautiful!’

Rosaria steps off the pavement and onto the grass, leaning over—

‘Miss! Miss!’ a shrill voice calls out … to which you see one of the jockeys marching over; a man with a face that resembled barely-heated beef, raising a finger into the air like some sort of weapon. Rosaria turns to him, eyes wide and confused.

‘Yes?’ she answers tentatively.

‘Off the grass!’ he cries out, in a voice that resembled an old woman’s more than a pudgy middle-aged male’s. Rosaria complies, apologizing and hopping onto the cement pavement.

He regards you for a moment … then turns back to her.

‘You kids lost or something?’

You frown, briefly glancing at Rosaria. ‘Lost?’

‘You’re in town for that party, right? The big Aegis party. It’s not here. Other side of the city; can’t miss it. Huge banner; my sister’s one of the caterers.’

Rosaria throws you a glance.

He probably didn’t know who you were.

>Ignore him and go inside
>‘Good to know. If you’ll excuse us, then.’ (Crisply)
>‘We are indeed. I was wondering if your establishment would be able to … allow us to borrow its lavatories before we go on our way?’ (Troll)
>‘Get out of my face and get the floor manager right now or I’ll see to it that only poverty awaits you.’ (Arrogant)
>Write-In

>>3601522
>>‘Good to know. If you’ll excuse us, then.’ (Crisply)

>>3601522
>>‘Good to know. If you’ll excuse us, then.’ [In High Gothic] (Crisply troll)

>>3601522
Perfect! I'll support>>3601528.

>>3601522
>‘Good to know. If you’ll excuse us, then.’ (Crisply)

>>3601528
>>3601529
:( Come on man don't make life hard for me

>>3601522
>>‘Good to know. If you’ll excuse us, then.’ (Crisply)

‘Good to know,’ you answer crisply, gesturing for Rosaria to follow you. The both of you stride past the jockey, heading towards the small set of stairs at the entrance, moving past silver trolleys and curious onlookers. You proceed to make your way up the stairs, the silver doors parting and allowing you entry into a hall of grey, marble, brown and purple.

Rosaria doesn’t even have enough words in her to make anything coherent.

It wasn’t quite what you’d hail as bustling, but it was most certainly busy. Greeters, concierges and drones made their rounds to tend to their guests, ranging from faux-furred young ladies and their accompaniments to men in formal and cultural dresses hauling briefcases and their own personal drones. The place is reasonably decorated by your standards, with small waterfalls on each corner of the larger hallway, a set of balconies with carpeted floors covering the grand set of stairs at the end. The walls are white and the paintings are pretentiously ornate … and the interior decorator at least has the taste to harmonize it with a velvet undertaking of furniture and imitation wood to complete the look. All in all, nothing to write home about … but not quite what you’d call in a complaint on. You draw more curious looks, more than likely from your rather peculiar state of dress, as well as Rosaria’s … simplistic choice of wear.

Your companion takes a tentative step forward, wetting her lips as she took it all in—

‘Sir? May I help you?’

A man with a thick moustache steps forward, hands behind his back and shoulders squared. The practical design of his dark grey uniform informs you of his position as one of the concierges littering the Hall.

Not bad.

Not quite what you’d write in as a positive, being about two seconds off the mark from your entrance, but passable all the same. Yes, passable.

‘Yes, I—’

‘I am so sorry, Mr Mingus!’

You find yourself roughly pulled by the same jockey from before. It’s all you can do to stay in place as he attempts to drag you back towards the entrance, at the hands of this nervously-smiling loon … and stare back at this Mr Mingus, who looks at the both of you as though you’d sprouted some extra limbs. As Rosaria steps towards you at an attempt to explain the situation herself, however, she too, finds her wrist locked in what appears to be a tight grip by the smaller man.

‘Ah,’ Mingus—with an eye on the emblem on your chest—grunts, curtly, as if understanding the situation. ‘You lot never give up, do you?’

‘Excuse me?’

He glances around, biting the inside of his cheek, before closing the distance and adopting a stern look.

‘I know it’s that time of year, but you can’t expect us to fall for such an obvious ploy, do you, son?’

Mech's power failed inbetween posts. Please wait warmly everyone~

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ you let out in exasperation, pulling your wrist free from the shorter jockey, and glaring at him as he tugs Rosaria’s. ‘And I suggest you treat us with—’

‘Mr Mingus! Mr Mingus! This one’s a Spacer, sir!’ the Jockey hisses, dragging her hand forward and highlighting the pattern of her tattoo. It’s not too loud for the guests to hear, but the shuffling of feet does generate some interest from the fancy-suited gentlemen and faux-furred women that littered the Hall.

You have half a mind to call your father. He definitely wouldn’t see retaliation as an unnecessary expense now; not with how you were being practically manhandled.

It takes all of your patience to not strike the wretched little man. He throws Rosaria a look of disgust as she tries to pull away … and lets her go, sneering at her as she desperately attaches herself to your arm.

Mingus steps forward, looks to you … then to Rosaria, before placing a hand on your shoulder.

‘Leave,’ he utters, not maliciously … but not without anger, either. ‘This is no place for your traditions and certainly not for one of such … a quality of company.’

You notice him staring at Rosaria as he does so.

>‘Leave? When I have reservations?’ (Smooth)
>‘You will address me as Lord, concierge.’ (Lose Your Cool)
>‘Come on Rosaria.’ (Leave)
>Write-In

>>3601661
>‘Leave? When I have reservations?’ (Smooth)

>>3601661
>>Write-In
"Unhand me or be un-handed. It's the same to me." [Elvish]

>>3601663
im feeling dickish, im in

>>3601663
might as well try

>>3601663
Supporting

>>3601661
>‘Leave? When I have reservations?’ (Smooth)

>>3601663
Letsa go. Support.

>>3601661

>Write in

Sir, i do not know why you have such ill-mannered staff, but i am looking for accomodations to spend the night, one that can cater to more refined tastes. I have been told your hotel offers such, altough you have certainly not made a good first impression. (Haughty)

These people deal with scions and other well to do folks daily. Give them what they expect.

>>3601661
>>3601757
This

>>3601661
>>3601757
This

30 minutes, bros.

That was the last of your cool spent.

‘You will take your hand off my shoulder, or I will have it permanently removed.’

He steps back, turning his nose up at you. Not at all what you expected, but—

‘Upper Gothic? Please,’ he scoffs, haughtier than you’d ever seen one of such low birth manage to be … save for the jocks back at the Academy. ‘Now before I get annoyed with you, I suggest you and your … companion take your leave. We have had it up to here with your attempts at anarchy and I believe that I have been accommodating by at least allowing you the courtesy of your own, discrete, departure. The door is there and you can take whatever sewer detonator’—he glances at Rosaria again—‘you have in that shabby … sack you have over there to some other gullible moron willing to allow you permission to relieve yourself.’

You can feel one of your own veins popping. At that very moment, you very much wish you were your father’s son.

You are, of course.

‘Now, will you leave quietly or do I have to call our security unit?’

The both of you glare at one another, unwavering.

Your fists tighten as you find yourself an unexpected deadlock. Had he dismissed your use of the tongue as nothing more than a commoner’s imitation? You wonder if he even understood the context of your—

‘Well?’

You were beginning to gather quite a crowd.

Your opponent, however, was decidedly more unnerved by it than you.

'Well?!'

>Write-In

>>3606655
"If this establishment will not honour our reservation, we do not have any further reason to stay, come on rosaria, let us be off."
/wink at her with the eye away from the staff

>>3606659
this, time to fuck with them hard

>>3606659
This

>>3606655
>>3606659
Do it.

Lets see how they react to it.

>>3606659
>If this establishment will not honour our reservation, we do not have any further reason to stay
I'm going to re-word this portion into something offended and arrogant, because it doesn't sound like someone who's a barely-reformed Draco Malfoy would start off with.

‘Then if you refuse to honour the prior agreement, I cannot help but concede to you, concierge,’ you remark curtly, adjusting the position of the strap on your shoulder before turning to Rosaria. ‘Shall we, Rosaria?’

‘E-Eh? Y-Yes, Senpai.’

You turn back to the concierge.

‘I commend you on your bravery,’ you mutter in amusement. ‘It’s not every day I meet a man with the balls to break an arrangement with a Scion.’

You notice some of the guests’ eyes growing wide.

He guffaws, a squeak escaping his thinned lips as his mouth curves into a smile. ‘A good try, son, but you? Sorry, but now I’ve heard them all. Good planning, though, I must admit, but … really: desperate. Obvious. A good try; again, good planning, but … much … too much. May I suggest actually putting on the Emergency Services uniform next time? It’s been done before, but you can’t go wrong with the classics.’

You don’t blink, staring flatly into his narrowed eyes. The small gathering was beginning to disperse at this point … and your face was all red from the sheer inability of the concierge to pick up on the most obvious of hints. If your father was here, he’d have made this man’s life a living nightmare yesterday.

In the end, however, you are not your father’s son.

At least, not wholly.

>‘Reservation Code: One Black Sheep, Four White.’ (Direct)
>‘Yes, it is a good try, isn’t it?’ (Veiled)
>Punch him
>Leave
>Write-In

>>3606778
>‘Reservation Code: One Black Sheep, Four White.’ (Direct)

>>3606778
>>‘Yes, it is a good try, isn’t it?’ (Veiled)
>Write-In
"Oh. And please cancel reservation One Black Sheep, Four White."

Walk out the door.

>>3606784
This

>>3606784
Seconding. This is beyond just trying to be nice to a friend, this is more them proving they legit don't deserve our patronage and we'll be sure to fuck them over for it later.

We'll find somewhere else decent, maybe patron somewhere and make a little bit of a show of it and put some investment into it. Y'know, we're gonna be a pilot and all, but doesn't mean we can't BUSINESS a bit, either. I hope.

>>3606784
hell yea, they had their chance and they blew it

>>3606784
+1

>>3606784
Kek. This is a good 'un.

>>3606792
This

You let out a chuckle, adjusting the straps of your bag a little bit more, mirroring the arrogant smirk that the man opposite you wore. It was no wonder people mixed bravery and foolishness up so often: both went about the same way in ignorance or with little regard for the obvious;. You can’t help but be amused; it wasn’t everyday that someone of such low birth dared to stand up to you. Even in ignorance of your identity, such bravado was refreshing to come across. The only ones of a comparable origin that did so were your Instructors and the Wargeass jocks of the Academy.

‘Then I must communicate my sincere apologies,’ you continue, slightly shaking your head and casting a stray gaze towards the dispersing onlookers before nodding a finger in his face, communicating as much sarcasm as you can muster with every word. ‘You have to admit, though, I had you going for a while, didn’t you?’

‘Four seconds. Not bad at all.’

‘Really? I must say, then, just what did the others do to get past you? You could probably spot a fold operation from an hour away.’

‘Maybe if you’d try to be a little less predictable, you would have succeeded.’

You laugh. Loudly, humourlessly. You even clutch your belly for effect. Rosaria casts a worried gaze in your direction, more than likely worried for your sanity. As another sarcastic sigh escapes your lips, you give a series of repeated, exaggerated nods in the direction of the concierge, your face turning purple at this point as the last vestiges of your restraint snaps like over-worked chains.

‘Well, then, from one good sport to another,’ you start, ‘would you mind cancelling our … non-existent reservation?’

He laughs, sarcastically pulling out a holo-pad and a stylus, the emblem of Jabba’s Palace glowing green as he makes exaggerated gestures with the device, prompting you with a wiggle ot the stylus. You’re thoughtful for a moment, trying to remember just what your reservation was under …

‘Yes, I do believe it was one of the luxury suites; corporate option.’

‘I do believe I remember your booking: it’s under Lord Mishima, is it not?’

The light buzz of an error in entry reaches your ears as the holo-pad turns a distinct orange (much to the concierge’s amusement). You here some giggles from the remaining onlookers.

‘Actually, I do believe it was under a code.’

‘Something like Ladies’ Man Two-One-Seven?’

Another buzz. Another orange glow.

‘No, actually,’ you reply calmly. ‘I believe it was … One Black Sheep, Four White.’

He jots it down.

‘A little off the base, don’t you think? Should’ve gone for an economy—’

Beep.

The man’s neck creaks as his eyes travel towards the blue glow of the holo-pad … which had turned green.

It’s hard not to smirk.

>Write-In

>>3606886
>>Write-In
"Come on Rosaria. We've got to put our bags down somewhere. Perhaps at [Next biggest direct competitor] down the strip."

>>3606898
They're the only ones in the district. In fact, the manager arranged for you to stay for free in exchange for a good review from a Scion.

>>3606898
sweet dickery how i love thee
supportin

>>3606903
Are there any other normal hotels then.

>>3606898
You, my good sir, make some entertaining write-ins. Supporting.

>>3606886
>"My apologizes, Rosaria. It looks like we will be slumming it... Maybe we can crash with Emilio. I wonder what he would say?"

>>3606903
Ah. Well we're off to another district then. Or we'll be going to a normal hotel? Are we too prideful for that? Would it be dangerous for us?

>>3606916
As long as theres another hotel somewhere, we can just reserve the Emperor's suite or its equivalent and we'll be fine.

>>3606898
This

>>3606898
Also to add in:
"Do send my regards to your manager. I'm sure he'll have plenty to talk about with you."

The gathering of curious onlookers immediately disperses, some of them even managing to communicate their fear as they shuffle for the doors or towards the many scattered seating areas in the lobby. The drones and the greeters shift their attentions between the suddenly-panicky fanciers of luxury and class. The jockey’s squeak and stutter is almost priceless to behold … as is the sudden outbreak of sweat that the man in the suit undertakes. The display on the holopad is obscured by the pressure of his thumb upon the device’s output …

‘Come, Rosaria,’ you start, drawing up the most regal tone that you’re able to manage as you tug the arm that she had attached herself to in the aftermath of her tussle with the jockey. ‘I think I’ve seen enough to give a healthy endorsement of this establishment. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced any place like this: not only a lack of fanfare or reverence, but healthy rebellion. A unique location, indeed. I’m sure that my grandfather and father would have a healthy appreciation for this incomparable institution.’

Your tone takes a dangerous edge by the last sentence.

‘I … ah …’

‘Now,’ you continue, narrowing your eyes as you observe the man trembling mass that was the concierge, ‘do I have to carry my own bag to the next establishment that would have me and honour my presence as a guest by invitation … or are you going to show some initiative and get me someone who’s actually in charge?’

He doesn’t need telling twice, it would seem.

‘Get Mr Unai,’ he manages, staring at the pudgy jockey.

‘But it’s not—’

‘Get Mr Unai or I will personally ram my fist down your throat and feed your descendants with whatever I find when I pull it out!’

He scurries, boots heavily scraping against the pristine marble floor … to which you see the drones zoom in to begin their maintenance protocols. Rosaria’s hold upon your forearm tightens, prompting you to look at her. Eyes wide with uncertainty and confusion, you give your shoulder a slight roll; enough attention to have her look up. You give her a small smile and a reassuring nod; she returns with a nervous nod of her own as you turn—

‘Let me take you to your seat my L—’

‘You expect me to walk?’

He shrinks at your insinuation. Regardless, you make long strides towards one of the occupied seating areas … which immediately becomes vacant as your shoes touch the edge of the carpet, amid apologetic stammering and the rapid clack of heels against marble. The concierge rubs his palms as you drop yourself in one of the chairs as Rosaria elects to keep herself on her feet with her hand on the upholstery. You don’t miss the concierge’s hesitant look when it came to her, though.

‘Shall I get you some—’

‘No,’ you answer curtly, not even bothering to look at him.

‘We have the latest in—’

‘If it’s anything to the standard of you performing your duties, I don’t believe it to be even a smidgen of the boast you have in mind for it,’ you cut him right off, sliding your bag down towards the carpet with a light thump. ‘I believe my companion could use a refreshment, however.’

‘H-H-Her?’

It’s really hard not to smile.

‘Rosaria?’

‘N-No, I’m all right, thank you.’

Her stomach grumbles, causing her cheeks to redden.

>‘You have to eat something.’ (Insist, Worried)
>‘If you say so.’ (Nonchalant)
>Write-In

>>3607049
>>‘You have to eat something.’ (Insist, Worried)

>>3607049
>‘You have to eat something.’ (Insist, Worried)

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12 KB JPG

>>3607049
>>Write-In
Order for her.

A simple high tea tray will suffice for now. As will some soothing tea.

it'll stave off the hunger for now, we can order something more proper once we're in the room and can drop the facade.

>>3607059
Sounds very good.

>>3607049
>>3607059
Also importantly, get them to bring a chair for her.

Make them work, make them sweat, make them treat her with upmost respect.

>>3607049
>‘You have to eat something.’ (Insist, Worried)

>>3607059
Sounds good to me anon.

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>>3607111
If trips suggest it, it must be a good idea!

>>3607339
Exactly Not-Mec!

>>3607059
sounds good to me

I have prayers today, so session will be pretty late.

>>3609172
This is later than I expected.

>>3619631
Mechanic often suffers from surprise bannings for weird things.

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203 KB PNG

>>3619631
What
>>3619846
Said.

You take the initiative.

‘Something light,’ you command, gesturing for the concierge to be on his way. ‘And if it’s not too much trouble, a pot to down it with. I don’t care what the latter is so long as it compliments the former.’

The man opens his mouth—

‘Are they paying you by the syllable?’

He scuttles off, the soles of his shoes loudly clattering against the stone floor. You hold back a smirk as you lean back into the chair, finding it all too uncomfortable to adjust yourself into anything resembling an upright position without the frame digging into your upper back. Not that you cared, of course, but seeing as you were here on invitation and for endorsement purposes, you thought that they’d at least iron out the kinks for someone of your status … on a professional level, anyway.

The chair squeaks slightly as you adjust yourself, tenting your hands and looking around. The architecture was very angular; fitting the niche. Practicality at a luxury, some might call it. There are many faces in the lobby; a significant portion of the suits and dresses throwing you looks of curiosity and apprehension. You’re used to it, of course. It was actually quite surprising that none of them had approached you with a business proposition to bring to your father and grandfather in the last thirty seconds.

At the very least, they know to respect your space. That’s a plus.

The sound of a heavy rattle and the rolling of wheels reaches your ears, prompting you to perk up as a portly, middle-aged waitress marches with what appears to be a light assortment of cakes and crumpets, accompanied by the concierge and a drone. She stops right in front of you, the arrangement of cakes, biscuits, plates, saucers and cups coming to a halt right in front of you.

‘Your tea, my Lord,’ she utters sweetly, curtsying before placing a hand on the pot, pouring the contents into two ceramic cups; the scent is unmistakable from this distance: it’s from one of House Mirraca’s subsidiaries: Galdoan Tea, from the slopes of Weyoun.

She presents you with the cup.

You hold up your hand, prompting her to draw back in confusion.

‘My Lord?’

‘Please,’ you respond gently, gesturing to Rosaria. ‘Her first.’

A look of understanding dawns upon the portly lady, for whatever reason.

‘Rosaria,’ you call out her name, gesturing for her to take the cup and saucer.

She hesitantly reaches out, gripping the saucer and lifting it from the woman’s hands … and much to your surprise, imitates Ryosuke in a manner that you hadn’t expected from her at all, downing the tea in one gulp.

‘Ah, that’s so refreshing …’

The middle-aged woman throws Rosaria an accusatory look, but otherwise says nothing.

>Dismiss the serving woman
>Chastise Rosaria
>Play it off normally
>Write-In

>>3620859
>>Chastise Rosaria
Just a gentle reminder to at least show a bit of class.

>>3620859
>>Write-In
"It was abit of a walk, wasn't it?"

Smile affably while we take our tea calmly.

"Still, this tea is best savoured abit slower." gesture for the lady to serve rosaria again.

No need to openly chastise, just give a few pointers.

>>3620871
this, she must learn the ways of high society