Word Gets Around [Pal!]

[Marakai2.0]

For two whole days, Prox had enjoyed what had amounted to relative anonymity, as removed from public view as he had been. No one knew him, and even those old enough to know of him couldn't recognise him. He found that out in a way he found to be rather amusing; about two years before he'd transferred out of the Ravens, when he'd been younger, dumber, and more in control of...things, he'd caused an uproar at what used to be his favorite bar.

It wasn't a bar anymore, but the same man who owned the restaurant it had turned into had owned it all those years before. His picture - sans piercings and the haircut - was still up on the wall, with DO NOT SERVE written underneath it.

This morning, he'd gone in for breakfast, and found the picture had been updated. Sadly, he couldn't even remember what he'd done all those years ago to be banned from the place, and therefore couldn't apologize and hopefully fix the problem. Young and dumb, and on more than enough substances to pickle a whaloceros...that used to pretty much be Prox in a nutshell.

And that wasn't the only case, by far, and there were certainly better examples. He'd been added back to the Ravens roster, and he could hear the city whispering his name, sometimes in awe and recognition, and other times merely in starstruck idol worship.

He missed it, he supposed. It was nice, being an unknown quantity for a time, but that time was done. Time now to get back to work, and if his first order of business was to speak with Public Relations - that was, Pilot Noble Lemmerin - then so be it. To him, it was just one checkmark on the grand list of requirements for reentering the limelight that was a Squadmembers life.

He'd received the message not too long before, and made his response just as soon as he'd seen it. Prox hoped she meant what she said about meeting whenever it was convenient for him, as he'd gotten up and moving straight away, and came to find himself walking once again before the doors of Nevermore, though this time he entered without fanfare into the place where he belonged. Making his way through the secret passageways and twisting corridors proved no challenge for the old Raven, having traversed them many times before. Little had changed, save for the passage of time.

It wasn't long before he found himself in front of the door he was seeking, one thin arm and pale fist raising and rapping, tapping on that chamber door.

[Paladienne]

Pilot Noble Valentine Lemmerin was used to challenges in her line of work. How couldn’t she be? She’d come into her own only recently, within the last double or triple handful of years or so, and she could at least claim a trial by almost literal fire when she’d first started at her PR position in Nevermore. She had the confidence that, if she could spin that insanity, she could do anything. Besides that, she’d had plenty of practice over the long years, spinning stories to promote only the best about the Ryun Ravens, making sure the dark and dirty secrets never saw the light of day, and ensuring that the public continued to revere the Ravens as the heroes they believed them to be, the heroes they were.

Of course, since then, when things had changed so abruptly, Valentine had had her work cut out for her, smiling as prettily as she could smile and assuring the public everything was fine and the rumors were unfounded and there was absolutely nothing wrong. The Ravens were as perfect as perfect could be. The Ravens were there to protect Aedolis and her citizens from each and every one of their enemies, to ensure the children could sleep safely in their beds and play safely outside, and they always would be.

Things had slowed down for a good while, which had given her momentary peace and quiet, so to speak. Now they were starting to pick up again.

The rumor mill was already abuzz with speculation about the increased activity around Nevermore. New faces, and such like. She’d already given them a yarn about that, saying new blood was always good to have, especially when the new blood seemed so promising, and that the new Ravens were ready and willing to do their duties and protect and serve. The tabloids and reporters and everyone else had gobbled that up and had come sniffing around her proverbial table for more when the sensation had faded and there was something more interesting to learn.

Which brought her around to her new problem.

Well. Not that it was actually a problem.

The new faces of the Ravens weren’t as big a buzz now because of the whispering of another name. A name that hadn’t been on the Ravens’ roster for sixty years.

A name that had caused her desk to be overrun by requests, inquiries, politely veiled demands, and other things that Valentine absolutely considered dumping in her wastebasket and pretending those things didn’t exist. But doing that would only cause twice as many to show up tomorrow, so it was better to give the usual placeholder ‘more information will be forthcoming shortly, thank you for your patience’ to them until she could actually get the information.

In fact, it was that reason that had her sending out the communication to Pilot Noble Prox Lutore in the first place. She hadn’t expected his quick response, but it certainly made it easier that he had. She’d offered to meet at his convenience on purpose, mostly because she was too busy to really eke out a portion of her day just for chatter and mostly because she was sure he was still settling in. Things had changed quite a bit in Ryun, and familiar things had changed to the unfamiliar.

She was in the middle of responding to several of those inquiries with her placeholder when there came a rapping, tapping on her office door. Probably was one of her colleagues, wanting to know what to say to some belligerent inky-fingers who refused to take ’more information will be forthcoming shortly, thank you for your patience’ as an answer.

That was why she’d closed her office door.

Valentine barely glanced up from the form she was perusing as she called, “It’s open. Enter at your own risk.”

[Marakai2.0]

"An unlocked door in Nevermore.....I think that is the risk."

Only those with the sharpest of ears would have even heard the door open, though it eased shut with a much more audible click once Prox had slipped inside, moving with the fluid grace of a feline.

"Though I suppose that...among Ravens, there is nearly no such thing as 'locked doors.'" Prox had very easily heard what she said, as well as noted the way that she had said it. Therefore, he inferred that she was not expecting him. Odd, she had requested his presence, and so he had came. Why wouldn't he be expected?

No matter. A quick glance around the room jogged his memory of the place, and he remembered that this had, indeed, always been the PR office. Offhandedly, he wondered just how many poor souls had sat in here before Pilot Noble Lemmerin had, during Prox's absence. How many had dealt with the shitshow that was Nym's....regime? How many had given up and been scared off, been reassigned? Those thoughts caused a sort of garnering of respect for the woman, whom he had heard but not yet turned to-

Whoa.

Upon turning, he saw her, staring down at the paperwork upon her desk. First was the obvious: her hair, pale and white, hanging in the air above her head as if loathe to be dominated by gravity, moving on its own as it would if she were amidst a gentle water current. Her eyes, of what he could see of them, were a brilliant teal color, studiously upon the work before her. Just below those eyes, he thought he could see brilliant, glowing spots like freckles. They were actually quite adora-

Wait, what? Was he just about to use the word 'adorable?' Something was...off. Not wrong, per say, but different. Somehow, this difference brought him a feeling akin to comfort, as if this was the way this was meant to be.

After a moment, he realised that he had been staring at her, almost mesmerized by the woman at the desk reading over her papers. Another moment passed before he remembered he had been there for a reason, and he cleared his throat.

"Oh...but I am Prox. You....needed to speak with me?" His voice was smooth, almost lilting in a way despite the lack of emotion he usually displayed.

[Paladienne]

“What’s the point of having an unlocked door in the den of people trained to get in anywhere, by any means?” Valentine responded automatically, her voice tinged with slight annoyance, as if she’d been interrupted and asked such a question before. “And if someone comes in here intending to hurt or kill me, then they’ll be sorely disappointed. And probably dead.”

But when the name registered in her mind, her thoughts stuttered to a halt.

Prox Lutore. He’s here already?

Well. She had asked him to come at his convenience. She hadn’t expected it to be this soon. She’d expected him to take a few more days or wait until the Ravens had had their first official meeting.

She carefully raised her gaze, keeping her expression neutral. Heaven and earth, he was a sight to behold. Tall and pale-skinned, with jet black hair long on one side and shaved on the other and black eyes with red pupils, his face a wonderful mix of Tsumi and Starstrider genetics. She’d seen pictures of him, but those pictures didn’t do the real man justice, did they? Valentine felt her heart skip a beat - ba-thump ... ba-thump - and she didn’t even really know why.

She caught him looking around her office, his own expression blank as he studied his surroundings. Natural reaction for a Raven, Valentine knew. But she wasn’t going to apologize for her taste in decorations.

The entire left wall was just bookshelves, filled with binders and folders and everything else she needed to keep records of, all color-coded and labeled, while the right wall was shaded glass, affording a wonderful view - from her office’s side of the glass only - of Ryun and the distant, shimmering, sparkling ocean. Across from the door was her desk, a large black wood and steel contraption that met her needs rather well. The wall behind her, and the spaces to her immediate left and right, was filled with potted orchids all in varying stages of bloom and growth. There were no pictures, no other personal effects, unless one counted the satchel that hung on the back of her black leather, padded office chair.

She’d made this office her territory, in an attempt to chase away whatever terribleness had been here before her.

She kept her expression neutral when he looked right at her. She refused to feel embarrassed as she saw his eyes focus on her hair and then on her birthmarks. She’d long hoped that she’d lose the ability to feel the twinge of unhappiness that came from strangers seeing her for the first time, but that pipe dream had yet to be fulfilled.

She set the paper she had been reviewing down on her desk, then gestured to one of the chairs in front of her desk. “Thank you for arriving so promptly. Forgive me; I’ve been a little swamped. Please, have a seat. This shouldn’t take too much time out of your day.”

Valentine reached to retrieve a paper that had several dozen questions written on it, set it in front of her along with a pen, then set her elbows on the edge of her desk and laced her fingers together as she waited for him to get comfortable.

[Marakai2.0]

"If someone makes it here, past regular military, the various Pilots, and us Ravens...." the corner of Prox's mouth curled just slightly, the smirk almost imperceptible at a glance, ".....you'll likely be dead before you even realize you're in trouble. That, or security has become extremely lax while I've been gone."

When she looked up, Prox could indeed see that her eyes were that brilliant teal color, widened as a Tsumi's would be though upon a more careful inspection he could differentiate between the various parts of her eyes; each part was merely a slightly brighter or darker shade. But this time, before he fell into staring at her again, he turned his attention again to her office.

"I must say, you've very much made yourself at home in this little room...." he mused, voice low but not so much to say he hadn't intended on her to hear. He gazed at the bookshelf first, taking in the organization and the tidyness of the rows and rows of materials related to her work. From there, his gaze swept to the right - even as he moved toward the chair she indicated, he was taking in details - taking in the multitude of orchids to either side and behind her, the rather intimidating desk she sat behind, and lastly the large windows allowing a one-sided view to the world outside.

He seemed to remember Public Relations being a terrifying affair, before. But now, it seemed, the only part of the room that offered an air of danger was its occupant....and that desk.That desk was massive.

His second visual sweep of the room took but a moment, and his eyes again settled on hers as he took the seat across from her.

"Mmm. No apology is necessary. You are only doing your best, I would assume, and my coming here has likely increased your workload substantially. Despite your earlier protest otherwise...I must apologize." He dipped his head in a sort of mock bow, though those sharp eyes of his never left her face.

"In any case, I am here, you are here, and I have more free time than i know what to do with. So, my time is yours, for whatever that is worth." His gaze then flicked down to the paper in front of her. "I assume that is what I am here for," he said, nodding down at it.

[Paladienne]

Valentine cracked a smile at Prox’s words, touched by his apology. It wasn’t often that someone who entered her domain apologized to her for something they’d caused. Not that she blamed Prox, of course. The public wanted to know everything, and it was her job to give them the ‘everything’ they needed to have. He was only one drop in the proverbial wave heading her way, and he was the first thing she could deal with. Her climb to the mountaintop of her workpile was only beginning, and here was as good a starting point as any.

“You say that now, but sooner or later, the Ravens will be back up and running again, and then you’ll be begging for some free time.” Valentine responded, her eyes locked on his. When his eyes dropped to the paper in front of her, she leaned back in her chair, her manner quite relaxed, a small smile playing on her lips. “You assume correctly.”

She tapped on the paper with one finger. “This is a list of questions the adoring public wants answered. I’ve picked the most relevant questions, which also happen to be the most abundant of those asked. This shouldn’t take too long. Minimal effort on your part.”

Valentine shifted her position in her seat, leaning forward as she picked up her pen. “You don’t have to answer anything you don’t want to, and please don’t feel pressured to do so. Nothing sensitive you tell me will leave this office without being thoroughly sanitized first, if it leaves at all. So, please rest assured that everything you divulge here will be safe.” Her eyes dropped from his face to the first question. “Let’s begin. You left sixty years ago, and practically dropped off the radar. What made you choose to accept your reassignment, as it were? What made you decide to come back?”

[Marakai2.0]

Her smile complimented her face perfectly, he noticed, and he was putting his permanent poker face to the test by not letting on he'd noticed - the only slip he let go was a quick glance from her eyes to her lips and back again, with his gaze firmly locked on hers once again.

"Mmm....I have to say that I doubt that. My free time lately has simply been spent wandering the city, and when there are no more sights to see, I fear I will have very little to occupy myself other than work. And generally, I would prefer to not be idle." The corner of his mouth quirked up again into that barely-there smile, and he leaned forward a bit to rest his arms atop her desk. The way he sat, a veil of black hair obscured part of his face, allowing only one eye to peer at her.

But of course, that would be the first question asked, and he supposed there was no room to complain. After all, it only made sense, didn't it? It wasn't every day something like this happened, and Prox was fairly certain this situation was a unique one.

".....to be perfectly honest with you, I actually requested the reassignment. There was a...glaring personal issue between myself and the former Commander." And that in itself was a supreme understatement, but he wasn't going to go into the details about that now, unless she pushed for more answers. "Lets say, for now, that he had little care for the welfare of the Pilots under his command. As for coming back...well. The Ravens were always my family, from the time the squad was formed. As soon as I heard it was....I don't want to use the word 'safe' officially, as that implies it wasn't, but it is what it is...when I heard it was safe, I began working towards getting myself reinstated as a Squad member, and putting myself back in public view."

Once he finished talking, his eyes unnarrowed. Which was odd, as he hadn't even realized thinking of Nym had put him on edge so much. Slowly but surely he also came to realize his palms had begun to sting, and he released his clenched fists.

Had to stay calm; he didn't want to make a spectacle of himself so early in the continuance of his career.

[Paladienne]

Valentine listened, her face set in a professional emotionless mask as her pen moved, making notes as Prox spoke. Most of what he said she had already inferred for herself, by doing her own research and listening to what others said when they thought no one was around to listen. Much of it she wouldn’t release, since she didn’t think she could sanitize it enough. There was some information that she could probably use, but it looked like she was going to be making up a story. She was good at that. No matter what she said, the populace seemed to buy it. It would be easy. Sprinkle a little bit of truth within the confines of a lie, and who could tell the difference?

But when she heard his change in tone, Valentine lifted her gaze from her paper to Prox himself. To see him sitting so close startled her. He had the clearest of ruby irises, set in a bed of ebony. His pale skin complimented his jet black hair in the way pearls complimented black velvet. The way that it fell over his face gave him a mysterious air, as if he was seeking to hide something while he also offered her his secrets. And he was offering her one, in accordance to the question she had asked. But this secret ran deep, ran far too close to a wound that hadn’t yet healed, if it could heal at all.

Valentine heard it in his voice, saw it in the way his body went from relaxed to rigid, as his one visible eye darkened as his thoughts went down memory lane. She watched his visible eye narrow as he spoke, his words saying one thing while his face and body said another. She knew enough to read between the lines that whatever he was remembering, it was something awful. A tightness formed in her stomach as she realized her question, innocent as it should have been, wasn’t. At least, not for him.

His hands were clenched in tight fists.

His shoulders were tense and rigid.

Valentine thought he would be grinding his teeth if he wasn’t already talking.

When he stopped, she realized that memories she hadn’t meant to bring up were still eating at him. Feelings she hadn’t meant to stir were still brewing. She wanted to reach out to him, tell him he was safe now, and absolutely nothing could hurt him now. But she didn’t. He seemed so wound up that even a gentle touch such as the one she might provide might break him into a thousand pieces. And she wasn’t sure if she would be able to put those pieces back together after they were shattered.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I didn’t mean to cause you any discomfort. If you’d like, we can stop.”

Valentine could only imagine what he was remembering. After all, Prox had been with the Ravens since their inception, and as much as she’d seen and heard in the beginning of her tenure here, Prox had seen and heard - and likely experienced - so much more. She had never meant to cause him any pain. She’d never intended to dredge up something awful. She didn’t want to hurt him, even inadvertently. She put her pen down and pushed the paper aside, a clear sign that she was going to ignore those questions in favor of Prox himself. “Would you like something to drink?”

[Marakai2.0]

After a moment, the old Raven had sufficiently calmed himself enough to answer. While she spoke, he found himself determined to hang onto her every word, her soft voice and the cadence of her speech an odd sort of anodyne for his stress. By the time she had finished speaking, he was completely calm again.

But....why? Anger like that would typically mean an hour or more of constant meditation to push away, to bottle inside, to pretend it didn't exist and had never existed. But for some reason, her words seemed to calm him more than anything he'd tried before. Was it the calm care with which she spoke? The tinge of regret in her voice? He did not know.

....but he liked it.

He glanced down as she swept the paper to one side, eliminating it as if it were a barrier between them. Work was on hold for the moment, it seemed, and Prox found himself embarrassed to be relieved by that. This was something he would have to get through, one way or the other, no matter his conflictions, no matter his condition. He couldn't, wouldn't let the trauma inflicted upon him get in the way of his job. It was enough it plagued his life and free time, but it couldn't impede him now. He wouldn't let it.

Almost on instinct, he shot a hand out to grasp hers, still settled upon that paper. There was work to be done, and be done it must be. However.....

"Perhaps....a break. I apologize, but the past is....painful, I suppose would be the correct word. So, a brief break, enough time for a drink, and we can continue. Have you anything on hand, or.....?"

He blinked, then, and looked down at their hands for a moment before lifting his away. He hadn't meant to make contact, but he simply wanted to get this ordeal out of the way. Get the work done, and be able to stop thinking about the past. Hopefully, the other questions wouldn't be quite as painful.

But that contact....

You need to get a hold of your composure, right this minute. This isn't you. Focus, Prox.

That thought came unbidden, and for a moment, he almost thought Sanguinar had nosed his way in for an adjustment. Quickly he realized that internal voice was his own.

Though....what would it hurt, really?

[Paladienne]

She watched as the emotions in his face faded as quickly as they had appeared. She couldn’t tell if he’d simply worked through his feelings that quickly or if he’d just pushed aside what was making him angry and hurt, if he’d stuffed it somewhere into the deep recesses of his mind to be dealt with later, if it would be dealt with at all.

She didn’t know. Couldn’t know, not without asking him directly.

And damn her if she wasn’t the least bit curious because of that reaction, for who better to get the truth from than the person who’d actually lived it? She had heard stories and rumors and other things since she’d started here, but she’d never taken them seriously. She’d never expected any of those stories and rumors to have a grain of truth to them. But she had never asked for confirmation, and based upon his reaction to just this particular question, she would never ask him directly. Something that private was meant to remain private. Still, she felt terrible for being the one dragging out all the pain and misery he’d once had to endure and reminding him of it, all for the sake of the adoring public.

Then his hand came down on hers as he spoke, stopping her from brushing aside the paper, and held it for a brief heartbeat.

Valentine was shocked that he would reach out and touch her the way he had. The movement had been so quick and so natural that she hadn’t noticed it until he’d removed his hand, leaving her cold where the warmth of his skin had sunk into hers. She didn’t know how to respond for a moment, looking from her lonely hand back to Prox and back to her hand again. Judging by his expression, he clearly hadn’t meant to touch her, hadn’t meant to grab her like that. His quick release of her hand was proof.

It was just a reaction to my own movement, Valentine decided at last. Probably didn’t want me making any sudden moves, what with him being wound up like he is.

She almost believed herself, too. 

But she pushed that thought and the confusion his touch had borne in her out of her mind, instead focusing on the man, and trying to subtlety discover what it was he needed. The interview and work could wait. It wasn’t like she was on any kind of deadline, after all, and it would be there waiting, no matter how long she took.

“I don’t have anything here, but there’s a small break room just down the hall that has a few refreshments.” Valentine studied his face for a while, uncertain, then ventured, “Unless you’d prefer a walk? There’s always the option for lunch, as well, if you’d enjoy that instead. My treat.”

[Marakai2.0]

At first, Prox found himself simply nodding at the suggestion of the break room, content with just getting a quick drink and a five minute breather - which he honestly didn't need at that point - and getting back to the task at hand.

And then....then, his eyes zoomed in to her lips as they formed her latest sentence, watching them move and listening to the words, those wonderful, wonderful words they created.

She said lunch.

Now, it wasn't a widely known fact, but Prox had exactly two definite weakness. The first was deep water. The man couldn't swim to save his life, and had discovered and rediscovered this on many occasions, usually involving an explosion and some sort of boat, and lots of mind-altering substances. Now, Prox was suitably cautious when out on the open water, usually either alone or with someone he could trust not to decide to sink their transport (not mentioning any names).

But that other weakness, there was no suitable defense for. No countermeasure, no caution could dissuade it. Each and every time Prox encountered it, he was at the mercy of his appetite, and fell prey to it with every occurrence.

For that weakness, as small and simple as it was....was food.

Absent mindedly, Prox lowered that hand, which just moments before had lain atop the hand of the beauty before him, and put it to rest on his stomach. It must have only been an hour or two, tops, since he'd eaten. He knew he hadn't been hungry when he entered Valentine's office.

But now, he was positively ravenous. As if on cue, his abdomen rumbled in protest of this hunger, vibrating under his palm.

"....food...." His gaze flipped back and forth from the sheet of questions and her face, over and over again as his mind and his stomach (and his hearts, pounding away within him for some reason or another) warred with another for a moment.

Naturally, his stomach won out in the end. It always did.

".....food sounds wonderful." He pushed his way up and out of his chair, coming to stand tall before her. A few steps brought him to the side of her desk, not too far from her as she sat in her chair.

He wasn't sure what it was that possessed him to move there. He also wasn't sure what it was that made him extend a hand down to her, a motion as gallant as any he'd ever made. He held that hand out to her, to assist her out of her chair if she needed it.

He had no idea why. The very notion of it perplexed him and inwardly he felt very awkward. But the poker face was very much in place, as it always was.

"Have you...got a place in mind?"

[Paladienne]

Valentine stared at the hand held out to her, uncertain what to make of the gesture. No one she’d ever interviewed before had made such a move, let alone dared to get close enough to her to even try.

What was he doing?

She inadvertently hurt him and now he was acting like some kind of knight?

There was a flare of anger in her, the thought that he was mocking her flashing through her mind. She felt terrible for making him upset and offered to make it up to him, and this is what he did?

Even looking at his face couldn’t give her the answers she was looking for, because it was so still, so blank, as if it were made of ice and just as cold.

But, upon hearing the earnest question that escaped him, Valentine realized that Prox wasn’t doing this because he was mocking her, or being spiteful after what she had done to cause him emotional harm and wanted to throw her off balance just as much as she’d thrown him. He didn’t really know why he was doing it, standing there before her with his hand outstretched, and he was just as confused about his performance of the gesture as she was at receiving it.

So her feeling of anger fizzled out and left her feeling unsure and uncertain, two things she hadn’t felt in a long time and didn’t actually like feeling. Her guilt returned in full force, then, and she felt even more terrible than before.

I don’t know him. I don’t know him at all. He’s a complete stranger to me. I’ve been absolutely awful to him, haven’t I?

She looked from his face to his hand and back to Prox’s face, and she realized he was still waiting for an answer.

Well, in times like this, comfort was something that made all the bad go away for a while, so Valentine decided that comfort was exactly where she would go, exactly where she would take him. For that, she had the perfect place in mind. She only hoped he would think so, too.

“There’s a little place I know of.” Valentine smiled, getting up out of her chair with a single fluid movement, avoiding his hand as she did only because she wasn’t quite sure what it would mean if she took it. After all, she’d asked for this meeting as one professional to another, not as a segue into a date. “I know sushi places are a dime a dozen in Ryun, and I’m sure you’ve probably had more than you can handle at this point, but the food’s good.”

She pulled her bag from the back of her chair and slung it over her shoulder before brushing past him with the barest of touches toward her office door. She reached it and pulled it open, looking back at him.

“It’s a bit of a walk, though. If you don’t mind that.”

[Marakai2.0]

As she stood, Prox's gaze fell to his hand, outstretched and slowly receding to drop back to his side. That damned hand, acting independently of his own influence, making a fool out of him. Never before had he hated any part of his body with such passion, but here it was. Somewhere between his brain and his fingertips, something was making him act and feel like a fool, some strange instinctive reaction that he didn't understand, something that in over one-hundred seventy years should have come up before. Inwardly, he grimaced. Outwardly, he stared daggers at that hand as Valentine moved to the door on the opposite side of the room.

He shoved it into one pocket, hiding it from view. One part of him, the cold, logical killer part of him, hated this situation. He was almost never this unsure of himself, this awkward, and even in those times that he was it was at least with reason. But this? What was the reason? What was this instinct, this gravitation?

The other part of him, this new part that he did not understand, whispered to him, to try, try again. Try, and fail, and try and fail again, and to keep trying until something happened. Something. What that something was, he did not know. He had to admit to himself, as he turned his head to gaze after her as she walked, that she was beautiful. Some part of him wondered, continually, why, why was he watching her so closely. Why did he notice how smoothly her body seemed to glide, barely rippling that dress that was tight in all the right places. Why did he notice the gentle sway of her hips as she walked.

Why didn't he look away before she turned to look back at him. Oh well, at least he managed to raise his gaze back to her face. He could only hope she hadn't caught him staring. He hadn't wanted to stare....or so he thought. Did he? Did it matter?

Her next words didn't betray the sense that she had caught him, but one could never know for sure. Whether she didn't, or did and simply played it oft as she didn't, it didn't matter. Not when his stomach again complained angrily his lack of motion towards food.

"A dime a dozen, sure...." he said, allowing a small smile as he followed after her. "But that is well enough, seeing as how there is much that cannot compare." Though one thing that could compare came to mind, and quite quickly - a thought quickly dismissed as he drew within arms reach of her.

"And I don't mind a walk. It's a pleasant day, in any case, and with such a destination in mind, there's not much that could make it better."

[Paladienne]

Even if she had caught him staring, she was, unfortunately, used to it. Her world revolved around cameras and microphones and various recording devices, so she was too desensitized to people sizing her up and focusing on the things that made her exotic and different, like her hair, her eyes, and her glowing freckles. Still, having Prox stare at her like she was some kind of attraction made her more uncomfortable than usual; it made her feel like she was on display, like some doll set out to be studied. Yet, she said nothing about it, because in the short time she’d known him, in the short time she’d been observing him, she’d come to understand that he was out of his element in this kind of situation. He wasn’t used to this. Perhaps wasn’t even used to being social, at least on this particular level, and with a total stranger such as she.

Give the man a target and a blade, and he’ll show you a neatly dissected corpse, Valentine thought with some amusement, but put him in a social setting and you’ll be lucky he doesn’t trip over his own two feet.

For some reason, Prox reminded her of a puppy, eager to please but clumsy in execution.

Valentine sighed quietly to herself, not wanting him to get the wrong idea about the exhalation, especially when he was quick to close the distance between them and was closer than she really expected him to be.

“Not much can compare, no, but I wouldn’t want to force sushi onto you if you have a different idea of what you’d like to have.” she replied, leading him from her office and thence out of Nevermore itself. “After all, this is my treat to you.”

Walking beside him, in the open, was somewhat pleasing for her, if only because people who would have normally approached her for whatever reason - or, really, approached Prox, because he was quite the celebrity again - kept their distance. She had a few ideas as to why - and they all involved the fact the man beside her seemed to glower at anyone who even tried to get close to her - but she wasn’t about to complain. Well, too much. And certainly not when someone might overhear them. She waited until they reached the chosen restaurant, a busy little place on a main thoroughfare, waited until they were seated at a private table for two near the back of the place, where they wouldn’t be bothered unnecessarily.

Rather than picking up her menu to peruse it, she instead focused on him, and Valentine grinned, her next words holding a joking tone. “You know, someone might think you’re about to attack them just for accidentally bumping shoulders with me. I’m perfectly capable of defending myself, by the way.”

[Marakai2.0]

Prox grimaced; he'd lost himself in the image of her beside him as they walked into the restaurant, and his carefully schooled expression had fallen apart. On more than one occasion, he'd noticed his lack of attention to his own appearance, and tried to fix it - unfortunately, his default expression seemed to be a perpetual "resting bitch face," and anyone he glanced at seemed to automatically think he was going to force feed their own spleen to them.

It wasn't his fault he looked the part of his profession, was it? He didn't know. But once more, he schooled his face into his typical expressionless, bored facade.

"Well, my job does involve mercilessly terminating target after target." His voice was level and even, though one corner of his lips curled into a ghost of a smirk. "It would be a real shame if they got any idea otherwise, don't you think?"

Prox glanced about the restaurant. He'd noticed it was busy on their way in, and had decided to focus his gaze on his feet as much as possible, trying to avoid a sensory overload, as well as trying to stay away from that dangerous threshold his emotions sometimes crossed. After a moment, he returned his gaze to her, composing himself as he took in her face.

"As for your capability in defending yourself, I'm well aware. After all, if you weren't, you would not be a Pilot, yes? We all went through the same training, though I cannot say what has changed between then and now. In any case, your ability to fight off unruly citizens should weigh far above the norm, for a Pilot of your rank. Though," his smirk grew a bit larger, here, "I imagine that would look bad, considering your position in Public Relations."

[Paladienne]

“I don’t think it would be a shame at all,” Valentine replied, almost conspiratorially. “I think it would be a rather interesting dynamic. Your enemies think otherwise of you, their guard drops, and it makes it far easier for you to sneak in and kill them. They think you cowed, so they don’t expect you to strike at all, least of when you’re expected to.”

She leaned back in her seat and gave Prox a small smile. “And yes, you’re right. It would look extremely bad if someone in my position had to fight off the unruly public, since I’m supposed to be appeasing them with stories of your heroics and other such things. But that doesn’t mean I can’t throw someone out of a press conference if they become disruptive.” She tilted her head toward him, silently indicating the menu. “Go ahead, pick whatever you want. It’s my treat, remember.”

With that, her attention turned to her own menu, her teal eyes scanning the words written on the glossy pages. She didn’t know what to talk about now. She couldn’t ask him about personal things. She couldn’t ask him about his job - well, she could, but it’d ruin the appetite of anyone who overheard him and this was a public place, after all, and discussing dismembering bodies while eating dismembered fish was a little tacky - and she really couldn’t tell him about hers. After all, Public Relations was pretty self-explanatory.

Thankfully, Valentine was saved from answering by the arrival of the waiter who looked practically about to wet himself at the chance to wait on them. She smiled and placed her order, waited for Prox to do the same, and when the waiter walked away, she focused on his face again, folding her arms one over the other on the table’s surface so she could lean on them without seeming like she was invading his space. After letting the silence stretch for a minute, and understanding that Prox wasn’t about to volunteer any information, Valentine allowed herself to smile and canted her head gently to one side, making sure she kept her eyes on his so he’d know he had her undivided attention.

“So, what is it you like to do in your free time, Prox? It can’t be all training, right? Do you have a favorite movie? A favorite bar? Book?” She dropped her gaze then, a small smile blossoming on her lips. She wanted to encourage him, not scare him off. So she offered a little bit of information about herself. “I like kickboxing. In my spare time, I’ll go down to the gym in Nevermore and spend a few hours beating up a sandbag. It’s hard finding an opponent, though. You’re half-Tsumi, too, right? So you know how that is.”

An idea sprouted in her mind then, and she considered it for a moment. Would he want to, though? Would he want to be her opponent for an afternoon? Test his skills against one who wasn’t a combat operative?

Chewing her inner cheek for a moment as she made her decision, Valentine leaned back in her chair again and simply asked the question. “If you’re interested, you could come practice with me for a few hours one afternoon? If it wouldn’t interfere in your other duties, I mean.”

[Marakai2.0]

That slight curl to his lip grew only slightly more pronounced, his smirk growing just enough to allow the tip of one of his elongated canines to come into view. "Well, I've got a sort of trump card for that, already. To walk in under the guise of another...that's one thing. To walk in using the body of one of their own....that's something completely different." His eyes flashed mischievously for a split second, before his face relaxed into its normal expression. "There's no better way to insert yourself into a group. They never expect one of their own to begin stabbing them in the back."

He watched her face carefully, tilting his head to the side. "Is tossing your coworkers out of a room a common occurrence?" Amusement flashed in his eyes at the thought. "I've tossed Ren out of a room a couple of times....though that was long ago. We've all changed, I suppose." He glanced down at his menu, scanning the contents to find something that ignited his appetite. More than one item appealed to him, and he took a few moments trying to pick one thing from the many that called to him.


When the waiter arrived, he did what he could to pay as little attention to him as possible - simply giving his order and moving on. He was cursed, he knew - stuck wearing this antisocial shell at all times, so as to avoid causing a scene. Some part of him felt for the man, knowing that all he wanted at the moment was some attention, but to begin was to continue, and he didn't want to open that box. There were more important things in this moment, namely the woman in front of him. Prox gave his order, and returned his gaze to her.


The way her head was tilted and that smile graced her lips almost gave him a start, a spark in his brain causing him to just look at her for a moment. He caught his own lips trying to curl into that smile for a moment, before he realized she was speaking. "Free time? Mmmm....my free time is, admittedly, much more...empty than it was long ago. Lately, I've been spending an increasing amount of time with one of my squadmates. Dekval. He's become a good friend. Otherwise, a lot of it is spent training. Though we watch movies, do some late training...he politely declined sparring with me after the first incident. But we've recently discovered the VR training area, after Dekval tried and failed to get me to play videogames." Prox shrugged. "Otherwise, I'll find a perch on a building somewhere, and stare at the coast and watch people."

He tilted his head, then, thinking about the invitation to practice with her. "...it is hard to find good sparring partners for people like us, isn't it?" What was he kidding? There was little point in thinking about it. His twin hearts began hammering, and he knew that this was something he wanted to jump onto. Keeping his expression schooled into a small smile, he nodded.

"I think I would like that. Just let me know when, and I'll happily volunteer to take the poor sand bag's place."

[Paladienne]

Valentine watched Prox for a long moment, a small smile on her lips, as she listened to him talk of his experiences with his younger teammate. She’d spoken to Dekval on a few occasions, but hadn’t exactly formerly met the young man. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t polite when they ran into each other by accident in the lobby of the building, but they hadn’t exactly floated in the same social circles to allow them to become close. The same, of course, could be said for her and Prox. They’d likely floated by each other in Nevermore without even recognizing the other existed until Valentine had sent him that text message to arrange for this meeting. And everything he said, everything he told her, she committed to memory to make use of later, for when someone pressed her about Prox’s activities or something of his personal life, something that she could use to deter them or, more, create an air of mystery around him, as if he didn’t have one of those already.

As he talked, Valentine kept her eyes on his, watching more his expressions as he mentioned things that pleased him and things that brought good memories to the fore of his mind. When he mentioned Dekval politely declining further sparring sessions with him, Valentine couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped her. “Yeah, that’s usually what happens when we duel someone from another race. I’ve yet to come across someone who could match me when it comes to pure strength. Of course, I haven’t had the privilege of dueling more than that sandbag you’re talking about replacing.”

She lifted a hand and ran her fingers through her hair, as if she were trying to tame it. Then she folded her arms in front of her on the table, leaning forward just slightly, an easy smile on her face. “I haven’t quite found pleasure or escape in video games myself. I suppose I’m just too old to be interested in that kind of frivolity. I do, however, enjoy movies and novels. I suppose I’m a sucker for the written word, and for seeing a story played out before my eyes.”

Valentine dropped her eyes to her water glass and lifted a hand to wrap her fingers around it. She lifted it and took a sip, then set it back down in its exact spot and gave it a little twist, her thumb swiping through the condensation. “I usually go down and train early in the morning, before work. It isn’t for long, of course, but just enough that it could be a decent workout.”

She lifted her eyes from her glass to focus on Prox again. “So, if you’re available during those times, you can find me there. I don’t think it would be much of a problem.”

Even as the last syllable faded from the air around them, Valentine felt her heart skip a beat. She didn’t let it show on her face, but her mind was starting to race. What was she thinking? Inviting him to fight her? They were both Pilots, yes, but his training was certainly more extensive than hers. Even a friendly bout might prove dangerous to her. She pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind, along with others that were starting to crop up. They didn’t bear thinking upon right now. Right now, she needed to be focused in the moment, focused on the man across from her. Valentine pulled her hand back and dried her fingers on her napkin.

“So, now that we have some of the pleasantries out of the way, why don’t we discuss something else? Perhaps... maybe why you’ve decided to return to the Ravens after such a long hiatus from squad life?”