‘You’re fine, you say?’ your mother echoes … and promptly relinquishes her hold on him. He stumbles slightly, but doesn’t quite fall flat on his face … at least not with you helping prop him up.

‘Well … fine enough to help with taking inventory!’

As if to prove his point, your father pulls his arm away from you, raising the the seemingly-healthy limb high in what looks like a non-verbal declaration to the stars themselves … or the ceiling of the shop. Didn’t really matter down here in B4.

‘Let’s—’

At least … until he begins tipping over. Your mother stares at him with a look of irritation, stubbornly refusing assistance.

>[Catch your father]
>[Allow him to fall over]

>>4433370
>[Catch your father]

>>4433370
Catch him, duh
What sort of person lets their father fall.
>cue paladin jokes

>>4433370
>[Catch your father]

>>4433370

>[Catch your father]

‘Easy there, pops,’ you chuckle, swinging your arm out and keeping him from tipping over.

Your father grunts, but doesn’t push you away. Shifting your weight a little more to your left, you manage to get your father standing up-right again. You shake your head as you release your hold on your father, glancing apologetically at your mother’s disapproval. It would be stupid to expect her to be in anything resembling a good mood … especially with the two of them only managing to make their way back down to the shop in the wee hours of the morning. The documentation had managed to come through quickly enough (being on the good side of Link’s mother was a plus), but your mother’s emotional state upon shuffling through the doors of the shop was teetering on the brink of imploding. You would have thought that decades of experience going through ancient water-logged ruins would give someone the mental resilience to put up with their spouse’s recklessness, but it only showed just what you knew.

‘I’m all right, son,’ your father drawls, albeit weaker than usual. ‘Just let me—’

‘You should be in bed,’ your mother emphasizes, shuffling towards your father and placing both her hands on him. ‘You’ll be more good to us dozing off than you would clattering about like this.’

‘You won’t get anything done without me,’ he argues. ‘I’m the only one in this house who actually knows how to read the damn catalog.’

‘That’s because you’re the only one in this house that can read his own chicken-scratch, father.’

‘Son, short-hand will save you time and a half.’

You let out a sigh, but don’t bother to respond otherwise, choosing to return to the crates and boxes, eager to get as much as you can done by lunch. Your back to your parents you pick up another box, sorting through the boards, wires and cylinders and referencing them with the details set upon the checklist on the side before rifling through the contents again. You continue this pattern for a good ten minutes, taking out what didn’t belong and stuffing it into other boxes that corresponded with the design … and repeat that cycle for at least four turns, occasionally asking your mother for a pen and some tape to help you with your task better. The total sum of what you had in stock was a whole different beast, but if you could sort out—

‘Sometimes I wonder if you aren’t part reaver unit.’

Rolling your eyes, you set down the latest box of salvage onto the counter, which your mother now sorts through.

‘It’d be better that way, wouldn’t it?’ you return, sharing a small—if slightly tired—smirk with your father. ‘Wouldn’t need so much maintenance.’

Your father gives a slight shrug.

‘I heard Link’s shipping off soon. Head straight for the Academy’

>[Ignore him]
>‘Yeah, yeah …’
>‘Gonna miss him.’
>[Write-in]

>>4433613
>‘Gonna miss him.’

>>4433613
>"Yeah... Gonna miss him."

>>4433613
>‘Gonna miss him.’

>>4433613
“Gonna miss him.”

You know, was almost expecting like a one year or three year time skip to start this thread off. Sudden time skip to the next time the (((Azur Lane))) comes back into town. With Link having gone and us being stuck here as the good son.

>>4433613
>‘Gonna miss him.’

I'll be posting in about an hour.

‘Gonna miss him,’ you confess, smiling. ‘I think mom might more than me, though.’

‘He’s a good kid,’ your father concedes, sharing your smile. ‘He told you where he’s headed off to?’

You give it some thought.

‘Neo Calbania Naval Academy,’ you finally answer, lifting a literal bucket of bolts onto the counter.

‘Neo Calbania?’

‘Well … it’s not exactly in Neo Calbania. The academy’s actually on one of the islands along the archipelago: Wai Momi … or something.’

‘Never been to Neo Calbania,’ your father continues. ‘Heard that there’s a few ancient ruins scattered all around there, though … especially under the water.’

‘Neo Calbania’s government’s designated their ruins as off-limits, though, pops,’ you interject, grunting as you lifted a particularly heavy tube off the floor and onto a nearby shelf. ‘Well … off-limits without proper authorization, anyway. The Neo Calbania government’s pretty protective about their heritage and history and all that … you know, what with the place having been a major hub for the Airborne Empire of the Bonnes.’

‘You’d think that there’d be better things for people to be proud of,’ your father snorts. ‘Where’d you scratch that out from, anyway?’

‘I was going through permit regulations regarding non-local dig designations the last week,’ you reveal. ‘Found a bit of an overlap.’

‘That so?’

‘Thought about expanding the operation a little bit; maybe we could set some zeny aside to open … a route or something, I don’t know. Just thought I’d get a head start on things … since I’m going to be taking over the shop one day, right? Might as well start getting a feel for things that I wanna try … within reason, of course. By the looks of things, I can probably get a dealer’s license in eighteen months or so, but if we’re not able to bring in enough stock or get enough value from this season, I think I can delay it until the next intake.’

You let out a light chortle as you dust your hands, placing them on your hips before turning to face your father.

‘Pigs’ll fly before I get anywhere near a B-Class qualification for digging, though.’

‘I believe that you can do anything that you put your mind to,’ your father responds. ‘You were always a bright kid. A little snarky for my blood, but I suppose that’s what I get for marrying your mother.’

The bayonet flies from over your shoulder, embedding itself in the wooden panel not an inch from his ear.

‘You get one more,’ the woman of the house mutters.

‘Still … there is such a thing as pacing yourself,’ your father continues, not missing a beat. ‘Why don’t you go and find Link … maybe share one last sandwich or jog or something? Has to be better than spending the whole day with your parents sorting all this junk out.’

>>4434537
>‘I already hung out with him yesterday. It’s fine.’
>‘Really? I thought today was a work day.’
>‘Let me sort this out first …’
>[Write-in]

>>4434538
>‘Really? I thought today was a work day.’

>>4434538
>that’d be nice, but I can’t in good conscience leave you now.

>>4434538
>"Really? I thought today was a work day."
>"That’d be nice, but I can’t just leave you now. We aren't even a fraction of the way through this."

Our boy has things pretty well hashed out. Good ol' Junker noggin'.

>>4434575 (you)
I mean, the dad is in no position to be doing shit at all and leaving the stocktake to him and mom alone in this state would just be mean.

>>4434538
>‘Really? I thought today was a work day.’

>>4434575
+1

‘I thought today was a work day?’

Your father hobbles towards you, scowling. ‘Son,’ he starts, ‘you’re going to be working like a dog the rest of your life.’

‘Yeah, but I thought yesterday—’

‘Forget about that,’ your father interjects, his tone unusually stern. ‘Now, son, your mother and I love you to bits and if we could give you more than we can carve out for ourselves down here, we would. I’m not going to dive into that spiel about you being destined for something greater or what-not, but I am going to tell you that at your age, the only thing I ever thought about was shoving off over that horizon and seeing what’s out there … but that’s life, you know?’

‘I don’t see where you’re trying to get at here, pops,’ you remark, feeling slightly confused.

‘Basically, what I’m trying to say is … son, I realize that you’re prepping and grinding yourself out to help your mother and I with the shop and I’m glad that you’re enthusiastic about it … except, well, it’s starting to worry me that you’re a little too … into it.’

‘You’re annoyed that I’m actually trying to my job right?’

‘I’m concerned that you’re pushing your thrusters over the maximum output as a coping mechanism,’ your father clarifies. ‘I’m appreciative of the work, but seeing you get to it like you do … when I was running the shop beside your uncle back in the day, there was nothing I wouldn’t do to go top-side or just hang-out with my buddies, you know?’

‘Well, you let me go out yester—’

‘Son … take the day off,’ your father practically commands.

>‘I love you, dad.’
>‘But …’
>[Write-in]

>>4436042
I have a bad feeling about this.

>I love you, dad
>but... please pace yourselves, okay? Even if we had to extend the stocktake by a day, it would still cost less than either of you pushing past limits.

>>4436042
>I love you, dad
>but... please pace yourselves, okay? Even if we had to extend the stocktake by a day, it would still cost less than either of you pushing past limits.

>>4436054
>>4436190
+1
Son has to be the sane one here. We can't help it that dad got hurt and we are good at what we do.

>>4436054
Supporting

Just a reminder that I'm at my busiest on weekends. I'll be running again in about half a day.

While we wait, uuuh, anyone want to mention their favorite boat?

You guys mind waiting a bit more so I can get a little bit of shut eye?

>>4440104

Zuikaku is best girl, fite me

>>4440104
I love Graf Zeppelin. But Bataan is so cute it ought to be illegal.

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>>4440788
No problem boss.

>>4440104
>>4440826
GREY GHOSTO

Gonna be running in a bit. Hang fast, troops.

>>4440956

“In a bit”...8 hours later...

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>>4441329
I have faith in OP. It will simply take a while.

>>4441329
For the most part, seems he only posts around midnight-3am in burgerland hours. So likely to see him in about 11ish maybe.

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You step out of the elevator with some hesitation, sparing your parents a brief thought as you dust yourself down for good measure. Your pants are fresh, your shirt just got out of the wash and the weather report said that it would be extra windy and cloudy, so you’d donned yourself in a nice, warm striped scarf and borrowed your mother’s coat.

Hopefully, no one would notice the feminine pattern.

The plazas are as packed as always—more than usual, in fact—with airships of varying shapes and sizes docking in and hooking up upon entry, with the messier sort heading the way you came from, probably having just finished their own shifts for the day. You excuse yourself past the Neo Ruminoa population, shuffling down the steps as you make your way past the few lines of trees that decorated the otherwise artificial land-mass. You note that the streets were oddly pristine … which, really, now that you had time to put it into thought, probably wasn’t that odd, given the circumstances.

A head turns up to check one of the many Azur Lane banners that decorated the white-and-grey plaza, automated units zooming around in an effort to keep the streets pristine. It makes you wonder why they didn’t toss those units down to the lower levels, if only briefly (and only briefly because you remembered that the Neighborhood Association had reported the theft of some of the larger units before they were even let out onto the streets). The north commercial dock was about a whole rotation around the pillar, which meant that it was a bit more of a walk than usual, but having been here literally all your life, the walking distance is less of a hassle to you than it would be for a tourist … which, now that you thought about it, explained the sudden influx of children in your immediate vicinity.

‘Daddy, I wanna the picture!’

‘Now, now, son, that’d be steal—’

‘I wanna the picture!’

You briefly glance at the picture in question: that of a black silhouette against a blue back-drop … the angular top making no mistake as to just who it is meant to be.

It’s almost surreal to believe that you’d sat down and had supper with her in the confines of your very room. No one would believe it.

The ticket in your pocket, however—

A boom shakes you from your reverie; you realize that you’d arrived at the edge of the north exhibition dock … the former money sink of a blitz-ball stadium that only ever saw last than a dozen amateur teams see consistent play before its repurpose to general exhibition area. The last time you were here, it was with your mother for the annual fish bounty the year before.

‘Sir, please calm down—’

‘Form a line; form a line …’

‘Dammit, kid, stop—n-no, ma’am, I’m not—’

You’d never seen it this packed … or colorful.

>>4442235
>Look for Link
>Just wander around
>Produce your ticket to one of the organizers

>>4442239
>Produce your ticket to one of the organizers
>Look for Link
Por que no los dos? VIP access would make it easier to find Link, I'd imagine.

>>4442239
>Look for Link

>>4442239
Look for link, only produce the ticket if we get stonewalled.
I imagine we can move around without attracting much attention without showing it, though not everywhere. Let’s check the accessible likely hideouts first before pulling the big guns.

>>4442298
works for me

>>4442298
Supporting

You maneuver the crowd, searching for Link, hoping to catch him distracted so as to surprise him. Your efforts, however, are hampered by the sheer density of the crowd and the odd lining of hats that seemed to act as a canopy against any visibility you could have standing on the plateau. The sun is as bright as ever, what with noon on approach, but the clouds and floating airships provide more than enough shade, so you didn’t really know why anyone would even bother with head-wear.

Then again, the vast majority of bodies in this sea of people were probably tourists, so …

No, no, no, you couldn’t let your thoughts idle. Where could Link—

>‘Gaggle of pretty faces … equals Link.’
>‘He’s probably inside already … maybe I should try my luck.’
>Continue digging through the crowd
>[Write-in]

>>4442419
>>‘Gaggle of pretty faces … equals Link.’
where there's smoke, there's fire...

>>4442419
>‘Gaggle of pretty faces … equals Link.’

>>4442419
>‘Gaggle of pretty faces … equals Link.’

>>4442419
>‘Gaggle of pretty faces … equals Link.’

>>4442419
>>‘Gaggle of pretty faces … equals Link.’

>>4442419
>‘Gaggle of pretty faces … equals Link.’

We must acquire the party face before the junker spills all the spaghetti.

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It picks at you that finding Link in this crowd was futile. The mass of bodies and that shuffled into view at every turn only left the dock towers and the like with a clear view … and no sane security body would let you so much as lay a hand on those ladders to search for your friend. Still, you’d known him for years … and if there was one thing that you could rely on in regards to your friend, it was that he attracted females like a—

‘Oh, there he is.’

Well, it wasn’t him, per se, but the concentration of hatted and excitable women was as much as indicator as any. Hands in your pockets, you casually approach the half-a-dozen or so females, resigning yourself to—once again—being the one to pull the unfortunate son from his predicament. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t help it. While Link was definitely a handsome specimen—and the exhibits needn’t be so obvious about it—his mannerisms were practically a trap for any and all unprepared members of the opposite sex. Humble, funny, considerate … you could see why women wished to stick around.

You wonder how surprise he’d be to find you here.

‘Hey, handsome,’ you proclaim loudly, smirking, ‘you been waiting long?’

A pair of bright red eyes peers at you, a blonde crown of hair that was definitely not Link’s tussles lightly with the wind. Dark clothes, wide shoulders, stylish, pointed toe-boots (overtly so) …

No, no, this was definitely not.

‘Ah-ha, yes,’ the man answers—much to your surprise—before turning around. ‘Do forgive me, ladies, but I believe my prior engagement has arrived.’

>Play along
>‘Ah, my apologies, I … wrong person. Sorry.’
>[Write-in]

>>4444747

>Play along, but whisper to him “Thought you were someone else, but looks like you need a hand.”

>>4444747
>Play along, but whisper to him “Thought you were someone else, but looks like you need a hand.”

>>4444747
>Play along, but whisper to him “Thought you were someone else, but looks like you need a hand.”

Ahhhhhh, crap, don't make an ass out of ourselves now. Still, mission accomplished: Party face acquired!

>>4444747

Supporting >>4444753

>>4444747
>>Play along, but whisper to him “Thought you were someone else, but looks like you need a hand.”
les bail him out

>>4444753
Supporting. I'd also be down for an offhand mention of how our friend ends up in similar predicaments, assuming this new guy doesn't immediately cotton onto that fact from us rescuing him by accident to begin with.

Doubt we'll need to say anything more though; guy looks sharp as a tack.

so where the heck is Boot?

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>>4449122
Apparently he is busiest during the weekends, so no updates for yesterday or today.
Hopefully we'll get more than 2 updates a week, though.

Post more favorite ships. Denver is cutest.

>>4449689
I hope Marblehead gets a nerd skin and/or retrofit. Helena is quite sweet, too.

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>>4449122
>>4449689
>>4449900
Somewhere not in his home country.

>>4452978
There at least cute maid shipgirls everywhere you go?

>>4453726
>>4452978
Yeah, good question.
Is Belfast still sunbathing in the river?

>>4453726
>>4453732
There are none, sadly. In any case, the internet in this particular area I'm in is at least a little bit stable so I think I can run. I think. Are you guys okay if I start up in ... an hour-ish?

>>4456337
Go for it. If it's too late, then I'm sure we'll be able to reply throughout the night.

You’re quite reluctant to help a complete stranger. However … having pulled Link out of similar situations so frequently, you can’t help but sympathize with the man. Having a magnetic personality on top of good looks wasn’t exactly something you’d qualify as a curse, but you did understand (at least through Link’s perspective) the inconvenience that came alongside it. Scanning his slightly desperate expression, you weigh your options: you could be honest and just make it clear that it had been a clear case of mistaken identity and leave him to his admirers or you could …

‘Thought you were someone else,’ you whisper, barely more intelligible than a mumble, ‘but it looks like you need a hand.’

He throws you an apologetic look.

‘Man,’ you start, hoping your tone wasn’t so exaggerated that it was embarrassing, ‘I spent the last fifteen minutes crawling through this crowd for your butt. Come on.’

‘Ah? Oh, right, yes … sorry.’

You don’t bother looking back at the gaggle of females, having burnt the image of disappointed females being deprived of their idol of worship by the fourth time you’d pulled Link away from his own would-be female companions. The blonde man pulls up alongside you as your unlikely twosome drifts away from the more concentrated areas of the crowd and out of the vicinity of any of that bunch that were desperate or obsessed enough to begin a pursuit of their own.

To be fair to that one girl in school, maybe if she was a lot less invasive maybe you would have allowed her to stick around for more than one block.

‘Thanks for that,’ the man starts, right as you reach the edge of the crowd, now on the edge of one of the smaller docks.

‘No problem,’ you reply, ‘I’m sorry about that, too … I thought you were someone else. He … also has a bit of an issue keeping the birds away.’

The blonde man laughs behind a closed fist. Rather than the flighty amusement that you expect to hear, however, you can’t help but notice a strange timbre of … hard derision and regality to it. While you’re quite sure he wasn’t laughing at you, his cackle certainly did have an odd selectiveness to it. His bout of laughter subsiding, he raises his bright red orbs towards you once more, a half-smirk playing on his lips for a brief moment before giving way to an relieved, sympathetic expression.

You’re not quite sure what to make of this first impression, but you suppose that it is quite stupid to assume so much from a mere glance and less than thirty seconds of acquaintancehood.

‘Well,’ he starts again, ‘tell your friend I sympathize with him.’

He turns his back to you, lifting his hand in goodbye as he moves to rejoin the crowd.

‘Thank you again for your help. Maybe I’ll be able to repay the favor one day.’

Before you can get a reply in, he’d disappeared past the first train of bodies moving across.

How … odd.

>>4456460
>‘That’s a strange person if I ever saw one.’ [Confused]
>‘Tourists.’ [Derisive]
>‘Something about that guy isn’t right …’ [Suspicious]
>‘I’ll hold you to it.’ [Amused]
>‘Ah, forget it. Damn, Link, where are you?’ [Brush it off]
>[Write-in]

>>4456461
>>‘I’ll hold you to it.’ [Amused]
I mean, we'll probably never see each other again, definitely. A funny encounter if nothing else, now back to finding Link.

‘I’ll hold you to it,’ you declare with a small smirk of your own, although not without some degree of awkwardness. He probably couldn’t even hear—

‘Hey!’

You’re shaken from your thoughts by a familiar sound. Turning your head to your left, you lock eyes with the approaching form of the friend you had searched for previously, rushing up to you with a look of a surprise. You meet Link’s gaze with an apologetic smile and a wave; he would no doubt have questions regarding your presence: after all, you had told him that you’d be busy with your parents for the day.

‘You actually made it,’ Link states, staring at you in disbelief. ‘How’d you convince your parents to give you two days off in a row?’

‘Technically, I still kind of did some work today,’ you reply, shrugging … and immediately upon meeting your friend’s curious gaze, conclude that the excuse for your presence needed a little bit more than a casual brush off as you had done. ‘We just couldn’t get anything really going; my dad told me to go and take the rest of the day off and this was the only thing I could really think of in spending the day.’

You’re careful to omit the part about how your father had actively pressed for you to spend Link’s last days as a carefree youth on Neo Rumina with him; you wouldn’t hear the end of it from the pretty-boy if he so much as caught the whiff that he had been a major part in your parents’ unexpected allowance. He’d be preening until the waves took him. Still, the excuse seems satisfactory enough for your friend; he lets out a small chuckle and gives a small nod of understanding, the both of you sharing a paradoxically antagonistic yet friendly gaze.

‘Well, do you want to get going?’

‘Huh?’

‘You know,’ Link starts again, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the open-air sardine can of human beings. ‘I already have a pass myself, but I can wait in line with you if you need to get one. It’s door price, though.’

You shrug, looking around. ‘I was actually hoping to run into a scalper.’

Link shoots you with a withering glare.

‘I’m joking,’ you explain yourself, shaking your head as the both of you move to rejoin the crowd. ‘I swear, it’s as if you’re holding my financial situation like it’s a primary exhibit of a court case.’

‘I’ve never brought it up,’ Link returns, sounding slightly offended.

The both of you stick to the less-packed sections of the crowd, attempting to maneuver yourself to the exhibit’s entrance proper.

‘I know,’ you return, smiling apologetically. ‘Just … anyway, I already have a pass.’

‘Good,’ Link snorts. ‘Now I don’t have to turn you in to the authorities for soliciting through unsanctioned sources.’

‘Security looks tight,’ you observe, watching a pair of armed guards—brandishing a pair of machine guns—walk down a flight of stairs towards a lower level. ‘That for the scalpers too?’

Instead of a laugh, however, you find that your joke is, instead, met with a tired grumble from your companion.

‘Wouldn’t put it past my mother …’

>Change the topic
>'She has been a little on edge lately.'
>'To be absolutely fair, considering the amount of people and the personnel that Neo Ruminoa's playing host to ...'
>[Write-in]

>>4456554
>>'To be absolutely fair, considering the amount of people and the personnel that Neo Ruminoa's playing host to ...'
The junker will ignore all social cues to provide technical and socio-machination commentary.

>>4456554
Well there has been some increase in pirate activity recently, hasn’t it?

>>4456554
>'To be absolutely fair, considering the amount of people and the personnel that Neo Ruminoa's playing host to ...'

>>4456554
>>'To be absolutely fair, considering the amount of people and the personnel that Neo Ruminoa's playing host to ...'

>>4456554
>'To be absolutely fair, considering the amount of people and the personnel that Neo Ruminoa's playing host to ...'

You guys still around? If you are, I'd like to press on.

>>4456921
Feel free to make updates whenever you feel like. I'm sure replies will trickle sooner or later.

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‘To be absolutely fair, considering the amount of people and the personnel that Neo Ruminoa is currently playing host to … I think her response is actually quite,’ you stop for a moment, peering at one particularly hairy guard, ‘you know, apropos.’

‘If you say so,’ Link returns, his disagreement more than audible in his intonation.

The obvious conclusion in the wake of opposing perspectives, naturally, leads into a conversation regarding the topic at hand. While it isn’t exactly something you were invested in yourself—especially not at an exhibition of this nature—you’d always found Link’s words on matters such as these worthy of an ear, especially with him being the most reliable source regarding the upper echelons of Neo Ruminoa’s management … being the Guild Master’s son and all that came with that. You certainly trusted him more than the press … which your father had continuously stated in the years you’d known him to be ‘as applicable as a second-generation driving configuration board with a reaver unit’s primary function loop’. Link turns the topic to that of his mother’s concerns, citing disappearances and how everyone was holding her and her office responsible; by last week, she’d apparently been advised on Neo Ruminoa’s state as an isolated port of call and a hub for passers-by as a potential high-value target for a raiding party looking to make a big score. Your friend, however, cites precedent and logistics as a counter-argument: that there is no way that there could be a pirate force in the world that had the … everything, really, to take a city the size of Neo Ruminoa.

Not since the Bonnes, anyway, and they were extinct.

It’s a point worth considering.

‘Let’s say that someone does amass a force of that magnitude,’ Link argues, gesticulating as he refers to his previous point regarding the sky pirates of old. ‘What would they want here that has any value at all that would warrant that sort of movement?’

‘Anything that they think warrants that sort of consideration from their perspective regardless of what you or I make of it ourselves,’ you answer, shuffling along with the line. It’s almost impossible to consider that you’d been in line for close to fifteen minutes and had barely moved three feet from where you’d slotted yourself; you didn’t think that there’d be that interested in seeing the—

‘I heard that one of the Yorktown derivatives are heading the showcase!’

‘Mom, do you have my ticket for the Hornet sweepstakes?’

‘I actually had lunch with Houston once, you know? She was such a cutie!’

‘I bet I’d make an awesome Commander!’

No, no … you’d forgotten just what company you shared the current vicinity with. You shuffle forward a little more, letting out a sigh and checking your pockets for what feels like the millionth time.

‘So what do you think's the primary exhibit?’ Link asks, gesturing to the head of the line.

>>4457088
>‘Yorktown derivative, Benson derivative, new Wisdom Cube tech, demonstration.’ [Nonchalant]
>‘Your guess is as good as mine.’ [Evasive]
>‘I don’t really care about about the who so much as I’m curious about the new tech they’re exhibiting. I’m actually very curious about what this means for the Network in the future.’ [Focus]
>‘Would you believe me if I told you that I know exactly what they’re going to be showing today?’ [Friendship]
>[Write-in]

>>4457098
>>‘Would you believe me if I told you that I know exactly what they’re going to be showing today?’ [Friendship]

>>4457098
>>‘Would you believe me if I told you that I know exactly what they’re going to be showing today?’ [Friendship]

>>4457088
>‘Would you believe me if I told you that I know exactly what they’re going to be showing today?’ [Friendship]

>>4457098
>‘Would you believe me if I told you that I know exactly what they’re going to be showing today?’ [Friendship]

>>4457088
>Bonnes
>Sky Pirates
Oh, well I guess its a good thing they are extinct. Otherwise I'd already be considering dropping the KANSEN and leaving the seas, just to jump on board Tron's merry band.

>>4457098
>‘Would you believe me if I told you that I know exactly what they’re going to be showing today?’ [Friendship]
Gotta give our bro the inside scoop!

>>4457098
>>‘Would you believe me if I told you that I know exactly what they’re going to be showing today?’ [Friendship]

>>4457098
>‘Would you believe me if I told you that I know exactly what they’re going to be showing today?’ [Friendship]

[red]Just checking if my formatting works.[/red]

Since I'm pretty sure I'm not the only carry-over from Mechanic's old Shipgirl Commander Quest, I'm wondering if anyone here found Houshou's sluttiness as a coping mechanism for her need to feel affection an interesting take on her character?

>>4458943
I was under impression that was a trait all carriers shared in his quest, although they may have expressed it differently. And I wouldn’t call it sluttiness either, she was rather proper in non intimate settings iirc.

>>4458626
Unfortunately, formatting doesn't work if your id differs from the OP, even if you're the same guy.

>>4458626
Yeah, like other anon said, only the "official OP" based on trips can do formating beyond green text and spoilers.
>>4458943
Can't say I am familiar with that quest. Though wasn't she a more "motherly" ship than a slut? At least based off of her default dialog she seemed to be mostly a mother figure for the other ships, and considering her history as the first IJN carrier. Granted almost all the IJN carriers, outside of the heavily underrepresented 2nd division, seem to be heavily unhinged and or straight up insane.

>>4458943
the need for sexual release was a trait shared by all carriers and to some degree, some submarines as well or at least one in particular if I remember correctly.
But no I don't think it was a coping mechanism unless it was a coping mechanism for all carriers.

>>4460519
>>4461005
Gotcha.

>>4459341
You can spoiler just fine, though. Wonder why that's the case.

>>4462484
Formatting is for the OP, but spoilers are for anyone participating in a discussion that could spoil the plot

>>4462484
What >>4462507 said. I'll be posting in about 20 minutes, so if people are around, just reply and I'll get back to it as soon as I wake up again.

‘Would you believe me if I told you that I know exactly what they’re planning to showcase today?’

Link adopts a thoughtful look, wrinkling his nose and thinning his lips for a moment, letting out a derisive snort right after.

‘Nope,’ your friend finally answers, wearing a tiny smirk. ‘I believe that you have a skeleton of an idea of what they’re going to be throwing out for us, but you’re flexing that muscle a little too obviously for me to actually believe you have a hundred percent read on the showcase … even if you are an Eagle Union fan of the most embarrassing kind.’

‘Oh yes,’ you sarcastically return, ‘I’m sure your daydreams of the Sakura Empire’s Heavy Cruisers are a lot more wholesome than mine.’

Link sputters, indignant. Your smirk widens as you tap his chest with a fist. He returns the favor in kind, elbowing you in the ribs. The both of you exchange another round of snorts before looking away; your attentions now turn back to the line heading towards the entrance, which remains slower than a dead barnacle, but now with the added presence of what seem to be tandems of ushers and armed guard, bringing the overall level of discomfort up. You can hear the whispers of complaints from all around you, the restlessness from before beginning the first steps into—

‘Let’s say I entertain your assumptions as truth,’ Link starts again, ‘what do they have in there that we don’t already know?’

>[Don’t answer him; remain evasive]
>‘We’re finally going to see a Yorktown Derivative. Not just any Yorktown Derivative, though …’
>‘You know there’s going to be a Wisdom Cube demonstration, right? Well …’
>[Write-in]

>>4463559
>‘You know there’s going to be a Wisdom Cube demonstration, right? Well …’

>>4463559
>‘You know there’s going to be a Wisdom Cube demonstration, right? Well …’

>>4463559
>‘You know there’s going to be a Wisdom Cube demonstration, right? Well …’

>>4463559
Speak quietly, not an ostentatious whisper, just quietly enough not to attract attention
>>‘You know there’s going to be a Wisdom Cube demonstration, right? Well …’

Also I see Link is a man of refined tastes

>>4463559
>‘You know there’s going to be a Wisdom Cube demonstration, right? Well …’

‘You know that they’re going to be showing off the new Wisdom Cube tech, right?’

‘Yeah?’

‘They’re going to be doing a live demonstration today,’ you let out, barely above a whisper. ‘No rumors this time: they’re actually going to be demonstrating the fourth generation of Wisdom Cubes and their application. Right here.’

‘Well … of course they are,’ your friend answers, frowning and glancing at you as though you’d grown a second head. ‘We actually talked about this, remember?’

‘No, I mean … they’re really, really going to be showing it off today.’

‘Yes,’ Link repeats, looking less amused with every syllable that flips off your tongue. ‘You and every person standing in line are hardly unique in coming to that conclusion. It’s not a hard assumption to cross into reality by itself. Everyone knows the Eagle Union—or Azur Lane itself—wouldn’t be bothering with this tour at all if that wasn’t the case, you know?’

You open your mouth for a retort … but find that Link is, indeed, dead on the money. Even if you were correct—and you very much are—what you had just uttered barely had any actual significance over the common rabble that made up of Azur Lane’s observers and critics. You’re almost embarrassed at choosing to use such an obvious pick—of all things that you could have used—to put one up on Link: it was like saying that a blitzball keeper was due a touch on the ball in a match.

‘Yeah,’ you manage, sighing, ‘that’d be … yeah.’

‘I’ll tell you something that you might be interested in, though,’ Link starts again, leaning slightly in and wearing a light smirk, meeting your cocked eyebrow as the both of you shuffle forwards in line with t he queue’s movements. ‘I’m going to actually be having tea with the Eagle Union Commander this evening.’

>‘Commander McCloud? He’s nice.’
>‘Oh.’
>‘Wow; how’d you pull that off?’
>[Write-in]

>>4466380
>>‘Commander McCloud? He’s nice.

Honestly he seemed an alright fellow. I imagine we would've pictured someone more assholish to have his rank given our measured skepticism towards authorities and higher society.

>>4466380
>‘Commander McCloud? He’s nice.’

>>4466380
>‘Oh, Commander McCloud? He’s nice.’
Poor guy has to shepherd shipgirls all day. Especially Javelin.
>'How’d you pull that off? Already pulling connections for when you ship off?’
Correct me if I'm completely off, but wasn't Link on the path to becoming an officer in the Azur Lane? If not, just disregard this part since it's late and it's been a while since I reread this quest.

>>4466439
>Correct me if I'm completely off, but wasn't Link on the path to becoming an officer in the Azur Lane?
If we're going by equivalencies, and as the author, he's being sent to an elite military academy in the same mold as Sandhurst, so more of a "fast track to officerdom with an eye of crossing over into being part of Azur Lane"

The Commander? He must have meant—

‘Oh, Commander McCloud?’

‘Yeah, that’s the—’

He tilts his head quizzically in your direction, furrowing his brows.

‘How do you—’

‘Ya have your tickets?’

The both of you are pulled from your conversation by one of the hairy guards, the nozzle of his machine pointing towards the ground. Despite his rather ferocious and intimidating exterior, his inquiry seemed polite enough. That being said, his appearance really is so beastly that you can’t help but wonder if he was a genetically-enhanced combat soldier that had been let out from some secret laboratory hidden from the eyes of the public. Large biceps, harry arms, titanic nose and a hunched frame has you wondering if the man really is that far off from the assumption.

Your eyes meet for half a second, and you hurry to produce your ticket, unwilling to escalate a situation that could very well end up with more than a few broken bones if you didn’t comply.

‘Here you go,’ Link states, producing his pass—a tag with a silver hue and the Azur Lane and City State Ordinance emblazoned on top—for the man’s inspection.

‘Huh,’ the man starts, squinting at Link’s pass, ‘you don’t have to be in line, sir; the VIP entrance is right over there.’

‘I understand,’ Link acknowledges, ‘but I think I’d rather suffer alongside this joker next to me than leave him standing in line all alone.’

The man glances at you again, his expression re-hardening as he does so.

‘Ya got a ticket yet? If you’re in line for the box office, you’re gonna have to move out of line: this one’s to go right in.’

You roll your eyes, your retort held back by your predisposition to intimidating figures who could tear you in half … and years of living in an environment where saying the wrong word to an unstable idiot would get you in a world of trouble, but that was neither here nor there. It wasn’t as if he was being unreasonable; he hadn’t been actually rude, despite it all.

‘Yeah, I do,’ you return, finally producing the EIP Pass for him to see. ‘Will this—’

His eyes practically bug out of his skull as he sputters, trying to find words. Rolling your eyes again, you turn the Link, who wears an incredulous look, his own gaze fixed on the pale blue—

You’re violently pulled out of line as the hairy brute of a man lifts you as though you were made of goose feathers, hoisting you over his head as he stammers and sputters a series of apologies, practically clearing the crowd as he pulled you away from Link, who calls out to you in a vain attempt at pursuit. You struggle from the man’s grip (which is odd as he doesn’t seem to even hold you at all) … until he finally releases you, dumping you unceremoniously in front of a door connecting to a used trai—

Countenance be damned, you round on the hairy guard, furious.

‘What’s the big—’

File: Spoiler Image (228 KB, 960x1754)

228 KB JPG

‘You came!’ you hear a voice exclaim, turning around and meeting the bright eyes of an enthusiastic Shipgirl you had not really expected to see again.

>‘Javelin?’
>‘This … person … just kidnapped me!’
>‘Wait? What? Huh?’
>‘Of course I … did.’
>‘Not willingly.’
>[Write-in]

>>4466718
>>‘Of course I … did.’

>>4466718
>Javelin?
>Nice to see you again! Yeah, grateful for the chance.

>>4466718
>‘Of course I … did.’

>>4466718
>[Write-in]
"I didn't think I'd get to, but today's just been full of surprises."

>>4466718
>>4467493
+1

>>4467493
Supporting

File: You're late late late.jpg (132 KB, 824x1167)

132 KB JPG

You look around, still confused by the current state of affairs. The truth is ready to roll off your tongue: that you really hadn’t planned on attending at all … and the only reason you were here in the first place had been an effect of your parents’ surprising amount of leniency. As you do so, however, you find that the bright eyes of a shipgirl that you had known for just over half a day peering right into your own set of eyes, a mite too enthusiastic for you to be comfortable with. There is a strange sort of positivity about about her that has you catching the first syllable before it sounds; instead, you let out a tired smile and slump over slightly, placing your hands in your pockets as you regard the bouncy shipgirl, suddenly feeling very intent on not ruining her mood.

‘Of course,’ you start, clearing your throat, ‘of course I … did.’

Javelin claps her hands together … before appearing to have a thought strike her mid-celebration, her expression turning into one of slight exasperation as she continued to regard you.

‘You’re late, though.’

‘Late?’ you return, cocking an eyebrow. ‘I wasn’t aware that we were keeping appointments proper.’

‘No, no, no,’ Javelin shoots out quickly, ‘you were supposed to be here three hours ago! We were supposed to have brunch together!’

You tilt your head, even more confused.

>‘What’s … brunch?’
>‘You should have told me, then.’
>‘I’m here now, aren’t I?’
>‘Three hours ago? Am I missing something here?’
>‘Where are the others? Is it just you?’
>[Write-in]

>>4468514
>‘Three hours ago? Am I missing something here?'
>Sorry, still getting my bearings after I got deposited here. I came with a friend but I guess we got separated.

>>4468514
>>‘What’s … brunch?’
urchin gap moe

>>4468514
>>‘What’s … brunch?’

>>4468514
>‘What’s … brunch?’
>Sorry, still getting my bearings after I got deposited here. I came with a friend but I guess we got separated.
Don't lose our bro now. We need him to keep us from making a complete ass of ourselves the further we get into this madhouse.

>>4468514
>‘What’s … brunch?’

>>4468514
>‘What’s … brunch?’

>>4468514
>‘Three hours ago? Am I missing something here?’

File: brunch.jpg (1.15 MB, 2652x2445)

1.15 MB JPG

First thing’s first.

‘What’s … brunch?’

You’re offended that you’re met with a slack-jawed neanderthal for your inquiry.

‘You don’t know what brunch is?’ the man—who you hadn’t addressed at all in the last few lines uttered—inquires, his tone as incredulous as Link’s had been previously.

>‘No. I do not know what Brunch is.’
>‘I … it’s some sort of meeting time or something?’
>‘I fail to understand where your opinion matters in this?’
>‘Uh …’
>[Write-in]

>>4471043
>‘No. I do not know what Brunch is.’

>>4471043
>‘I fail to understand where your opinion matters in this?’

>>4471043
>‘I … it’s some sort of meeting time or something?’

>>4471043
>>‘I … it’s some sort of meeting time or something?’

>>4471043
>>‘I … it’s some sort of meeting time or something?’

>>4471043
>‘I … it’s some sort of meeting time or something?’

>>4471043
>‘I … it’s some sort of meeting time or something?’

>>4471043
>‘I … it’s some sort of meeting time or something?’
Deploy, contextual clues!

You rack your brains for something—anything—that would give you clues as to what this … brunch is.

‘Uh … is it a sort of meeting time or something?’ you answer in a defeated manner, unable to discern just what it was really connotative of.

‘It’s breakfast—’

You tilt your head; if that was it, why hadn’t she just said so?’

‘—and lunch … at the same time!’

Your eyes widen, surprised.

>Don’t respond
>‘Breakfast and lun—oh!’
>‘What a concept.’
>‘Sounds silly. Why would you have breakfast and lunch at the same time?’
>[Write-in]

>>4473786
>‘Breakfast and lun—oh!’

Well that explains why we haven't heard of it. For working class the time between breakfast and lunch is composed of *work*.

>>4473786
>‘Breakfast and lun—oh!’

‘Breakfast and lunch …’

Brunch.

‘Oh!’ you exclaim, your embarrassment hitting you feel yourself on the verge of—quite literally—tripping over your own planted feet. How could you have missed such an obvious portmanteau?

Javelin, however, merely stomps her right foot, looking up at you with irritation and a pair of hands on her hips. You can’t really blame her for her incredulity: you’d give yourself a smack on the back of your head yourself if you didn’t feel as though it looked too silly to go through with. The hairy man throws up a casual salute, leaving you and the Shipgirl alone (and muttering about how absurd it was that you hadn’t known what brunch was) on the deck. The pink from your cheeks drains quickly enough, and it takes mere moments after to realize that you and the much shorter girl had held each other’s gazes for at least a minute. Apparently realizing this in what appears to be mere seconds after your own neurons had fired such a conclusion, Javelin lets out an exasperated sigh … and a smile to match her previous mood right after. You offer a light chortle of your own in succession, unable to bear the awkward silence.

‘Well, you ready for your EIP treatment?’ Javelin enthusiastically sounds out, hopping down the two steps and folding her hands behind her head, showing all her teeth.

>‘Uh … okay?’
>‘I’m actually here with a friend. Would he be …’
>‘EIP treatment?’
>[Write-in]

>>4473810
>‘I’m actually here with a friend. Would he be …’
We've gotta look out for our bro.

>>4473810
>‘I’m actually here with a friend. Would he be …’

>>4473810
>what’s the plan?
>I’m actually here with a friend, he’s got his own vip Programme I suppose but maybe there are overlaps?

>>4473786
>'Breakfast and lun-oh!'

>>4473810
>‘I’m actually here with a friend. Would he be allowed to join?'
>'He's the only reason I was able to come today.’

>>4473810
>‘I’m actually here with a friend. Would he be …’

>>4473810
>‘I’m actually here with a friend. Would he be …’