2018-12-07: An Offer
- Log: An Offer
- Cast: Loren Voss, Emma Hetfield, Lily Keil, Gwen Whitlock
- Where: New Arctica - Hidden Harbor
- Date: December 7th 2018
- Summary: On the behalf of Gebler, Loren makes an offer of aid against the Metal Demons. Emma, Lily, and Gwen hear him out. ICly occurs one week before the series of scenes occurring December 1st.
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
The worst that could happen, Loren tells himself, making his way into the huddled grouping of tents and structures that make the aboveground section of what aims to pass as a settlement in Elru, is that they say no.
Actually. That's not quite true, he decides, a moment later, making his way towards the torchlight marking out a particular row of larger merchant's tents.
They could always decide to try to kill him.
Dressed in clothing otherwise indistinguishable from any of the assortment of Drifters that have wound this way east, he doesn't particularly stand out at all. Just another quiet body slipping in after dark.
...But it won't help if he runs into someone who knows his face. While his research has led him to believe that Hetfield's unlikely to attempt to do anything violent, it's those other hangers-on of the Princess's that could be trouble.
The information network had been as usual woefully informative.
Somehow Princess Cecilia has managed to surround herself with a good many people who probably wouldn't hesitate to inflict, as they say, 'grievous bodily harm'.
It's almost as if he did something to deserve it.
But perhaps he'll get lucky.
According to intelligence, Hetfield's not typically one for the tunnels this time of day (evening, to be exact, though it comes earlier than he'd like at this time of year in this latitude). He makes his way towards the docks and away from the stillness of the mercantile tent city.
Even here it's quiet.
This suits him just fine. Even if it's wrong and she's not here, it just means he can slip out of here again without any problem. Hopefully.
There's a figure out by the docks. Maybe...
<Pose Tracker> Emma Hetfield has posed.
There is, helpfully, a sign out near the docks at one of the shoddy and drafty warehouses thrown up here to put some shelter over the inevitable tide of relief supplies, consumer goods, and packaged lunchboxes brought in from the other side of the sea - from Ignas itself.
This building has a generator outside. Yes, a generator! In this case it is a dismounted device from a light Gear, battered and enclosed by a somewhat less garbage wooden grate. All it does is turn a motor which provides motive power into...
Oh, we have such sights to show you.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qaC0vNLdLvY
Inside the building, it turns out that rather than some ridiculous complicated series of canvas belts, the slave motor from the Gear is providing motive rotary power to one of those bulky THINGS, the so called Emma Motor, which is connected by a series of cables to - all kinds of things!
There is an automatic vial filler, currently putting a bunch of fluid into standardized brown glass vials as they move along.
There's a metal crimper, periodically crimping metal.
There's the large thing that slams back and forth about 180 slams-per-minute.
There's the other thing that spins around very fast, periodically stops, and spins in the other direction.
There's the slightly guarded space with a control panel and a large resistance heater and lamp, which are making it warm enough for Emma Hetfield to sit in a comfy chair in her shirt sleeves and watch the machines work. "You know," Emma says (TO WHOM?) "it's times like this that I wonder at the beauty and the glory that must have prevailed in the mechanisms of production in the old day. Do you think there were places like this but far larger, more sterile, brighter-lit, more practical, and cranking out thousands upon thousands upon thousands of crates and boxes and canisters of ten thousand different goods, shipping them all around in STANDARDIZED packaging, sheathed in invincible metal or bakelite, wrapped in protective rubber, invicible to everything but shifting tastes in consumer goods!?"
Emma points towards one of the machines. "I honestly ought to unfasten that one, we ran out of the soup to can." She reaches forwards to flip a switch with an emphatic mechanical thump.
Somehow it gets louder. "Hehehehe," Emma says. "At least the spin-particle charger's working juuuust fine. So, let me think here. You wanted... pineapple juice, wasn't it? Or was it agave syrup?"
<Pose Tracker> Lily Keil has posed.
Who? Well, that's simple.
A woman in black stands, coincidentally out of view at the moment thanks to a few well-placed crates. Her long hair is held back for the moment, her gear obviously military, and her voice... Well, her voice is familiar.
"Pineapple juice is fine," Lily Keil answers Emma, turning to look over the machines briefly. She's wearing a full pack, obviously garbed for travel--though wherever she's planning to go in the middle of the night is anyone's guess. She looks about the warehouse's objects...
"...I suspect you're right," she admits a moment after that. "With the level of technology we've seen alone, it couldn't have all been devoted to military pursuits, even if that's what we tend to look for."
She pauses, "Did you invite me here to show me this? ...It definitely looks more efficient than doing it otherwise, I'll say that much."
<Pose Tracker> Emma Hetfield has posed.
Emma considers the words of Lily as the machines grind along.
She turns her head to look at Lily. She takes off her glasses, wipes them on the shirt tail of her businesslady blouse, puts them back on.
"... Oh! You didn't order the two gross of field deliverable canned pineapple juice, did you. That was the other Lily."
A beat passes.
"Fortunately I made three hundred cans and so there is spare. I'll get up in a moment and pop it open for you. Do you want a Hetfield Industries Can Breacher?"
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
No one's out here. But then, yes, there is the building.
The building seems like it's still 'alive' at this our. The building that seems a more fruitful possibility.
Particularly when compared to out here, amidst the cold, silence, and distinct possibility that he might soon cross paths with someone he might wish not to.
So the door opens. He closes it quietly behind him.
Not a difficult feat here, amidst the machinery.
He takes all of two steps before the sound of a voice causes him to freeze.
He tilts his head, listening against the din.
Luck seems to be with him tonight. Hetfield is--
Wait. Who is she talking to?
Even someone like Hetfield probably (probably) isn't just musing outloud to herself here in the warehouse.
...Oh.
Briefly, he contemplates just going back out the way he came. But then, what would he say in his report? 'Sorry, I was too much of a coward to speak to Hetfield because a problematic Lamb was there'?
Yes, the Commander had said not to risk his life over it, and he's inclined to cleave to that statement.
But...
Something inside him twists, grows taut. I'm... I'm a Solarian. Dammit, I'm first class, I'm not about to be cowed by--
And this is the story of how Loren, squaring his shoulders, steps out onto the warehouse floor.
"Emma Hetfield. Are you here?"
<Pose Tracker> Emma Hetfield has posed.
Emma pivots round in her chair (which spins) and blink-blinks as she looks over at -
"Thomas! Hello! Hi! I thought you'd been horribly killed! Here," Emma says, getting out of her chair and stepping out of the zone of her heater.
Once she is literally outside of that electrically induced glow she has some kind of a spasm, locks up, and takes two steps backwards.
"Why don't you come over here while I put my coat back on. How have you BEEN! Like I said, I had thought you'd died horribly. Do you want some pineapple juice?"
<Pose Tracker> Lily Keil has posed.
"That's why we use surnames in the Army," Lily answers, with a slight shake of her head. ...She doesn't seem all that bothered though, somehow. Maybe there's some luck? ...Maybe. "Sure," Lily answers. "Better than using my knife or disintegrating the lid."
Lily's not going to say no to useful tools. Especially when they're free. And the pineapple juice...
She has uses for it. Even odds whether it's for explosives or for drinks, though.
But of all the things she expected tonight, that voice was not one of them. Lily considers her actions for a long moment.
...Then she just steps from out behind the crates, pulling her cigarette case. She opens it, pulls one out, offers the case towards Loren and Emma. "He hasn't yet. Probably won't today, either." She lights her own with a finger briefly ablaze.
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
_Two problematic Lambs._ Well, two lambs, at least.
"Well, this is certainly a party."
Not too long after Loren walks in comes Gwen, dressed in her mottled white parka, still coated with a dusting of melting snow from outside the cavern. Tugging her hood back and pulling her scarf from over her nose and lips, the rosy-cheeked courier lets out a big sigh of relief. "Heard you were 'round here, Emma, but didn't realize you had company." She rubs her fingers through her matted short hair. "Need t'poke your brain for a few things, but it can wait. What's all the hubbub about pineapples?"
yes, Gwen is just going to just park herself right in here
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
There she is.
Emma rises to her feet, and perhaps Loren can take some satisfaction that the surface-dwellers aren't coping with this any better than he is.
Possibly somewhat worse...?
Maybe he can have a little bit of schadenfreude over that. It'll have to last him.
The door slams open behind him, further obliterating any odds of slipping out of here unnoticed... if he hadn't reached that internal tipping point himself already.
Is this how it's going to be? Then fine. Fine--
There is, fleetingly, a pause. He... yes, does consider the offer of a drink.
Before shaking his head. "I'll pass. I came here to speak to you," he says, putting an emphasis on the last word (coupled with a pointed glance Lily's way as she lights a cigarette).
"I have an offer to make to you, or more specifically, Princess Cecilia. Of course," he adds dryly, "we have had our differences. Perhaps you might convey this to her."
Wearing his uniform in here would have been an absolutely idiotic move, though it would have proved beyond a shadow of a doubt under whose authority he now speaks. But there are other ways.
He approaches the seated Miss Hetfield, straightening his shoulders like the Jugend graduate he is, a fact that no one can take away from him. He slips a hand into his pocket.
And presents to Emma a small badge.
It features a pair of entwined serpents set against a blank scroll, against a wreath. In the space between the two serpents' heads is a starlike shape, marked within by the spiked chained circle emblem, the by-now familiar symbol of Gebler.
There are wings behind the star-shape. (Of course there are wings behind the star-shape.)
"Second-Lieutenant Loren Voss, Medical. Gebler." He pulls the badge away, clasping both hands behind his back, the picture of perfect posture. "I'm here to parlay. Should you accept, we will grant you our support in the upcoming conflict against the Metal Demons."
<Pose Tracker> Emma Hetfield has posed.
Emma accepts a death stick, explaining to Loren, "We were just going to - yes! Hello Gwen! We were going to open some of the surplus pineapple juice from a cute little run I'd made for the Lacour someone or other. I forget the exact name but their purchase agent was Lily Raganoel, which is why I was baffled and - well, anyway."
She blinks at Loren slowly.
"We have?" Emma says, before reaching forwards and taking the small badge in both hands. She turns it around. She holds it up to the lamp and then she says, after a long - long - long pause - "Interesting. In Ter Es Ting."
Emma sets back in her seat. She looks at Thomas - now Loren - and she then deliberately crosses her legs as she leans back.
"I can't in good conscience just pass this along on that level, Lieutenant. Can you elaborate on the terms that you're offering? And..."
"There's one other thing," Emma says, the lamp making the lenses of her glasses gleam as she adjusts them.
"Do you want some pineapple juice too?"
<Pose Tracker> Lily Keil has posed.
"Hmm. Bad luck for her I guess." To Emma, of course.
Lily glances to Gwen, nods her way as she lifts her cigarette, and returns her attention to Loren. ...Unlike Emma, she seems to have absolutely zero trouble with the cold, despite lacking a scarf or hat entirely in favor of a long black coat.
"I'm not going anywhere, Voss."
This is her answer when he emphasizes Emma. Then, she blows smoke towards his face, because Lily Keil is kind of an asshole, to be honest, even when she's being nonviolent as she is right now.
Her gaze sharpens at the mention of the Princess, however; she knows full well what happened the last time she, Cecilia, and Gebler were in the same place. ...But as he offers the badge...
Lily regards Loren less as an enemy for a moment and more as something she needs to puzzle out, a subject of study. It is not a particularly comfortable look to experience, generally.
"...Terms for the Princess, are they?" Lily asks. Support against the Metal Demons...
She glances to Emma, thoughtful, and takes a puff. "I have the same question. What would be expected of the Princess, or her allies, in return? ...You can understand that the idea that your people have merely recognized that the fight against Mother affects all of us is not one that goes down simply."
She has an ARM. She is not drawing it. There's no hum of attacking Ether, either; in fact the only aura of active spellcasting about her at this instant is subtle, easy to miss... and is a very basic heat spell that may explain a few things.
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
Loren Voss. That's his real name. And rank, even, even if Gwen's not quite familiar with how military ranks generally go.
"Don't mind me~" Gwen simply plants herself on a crate, easing herself out of her thick parka. "Pineapple juice? Hm." Her voice grows distracted as she eases her right arm out of its parka sleeve. "Never had pineapple juice except t'sweeten some bad alcohol, but sure, why not."
Loren may be someone Gwen finds agreeable on a personal level, but Solaris, as a group, isn't one that she can safely trust, unless their interests run along the same lines. Could this be one of those times he's here as a Solaris agent, rather than as himself? Sure, Emma will be safe with Lily around, but Gwen also wants to see what this is all about. She's a scout for a reason, after all. At least, that's Gwen's thinking.
The cold does effect Gwen, it seems, as she finally succeeds in drawing in that stiffer right arm, pulling it close to her chest. "Pretty good question t'ask, Lily, considerin' that Gebler was actively helpin' out Shakhan. We're in the same boat, but it'd be good t'all be on the same page too."
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
In disgust he grimaces, waving away the cloud of smoke with his left hand. "I believe that's a fire hazard, Keil," he says, looking away from her.
But down to business, the first part of which being the authority under which he speaks.
It's authentic, near Emma can tell. That or a certain 'Thomas' is in a huge amount of trouble.
Lily's reaction may similarly speak to its authenticity.
He was expecting something like this. Naturally, like a wayward sheep, surfacedwellers don't know what's best for them. What are the terms...?
"Unconditional support," Loren states, looking Emma dead in the eyes. "That is our offer. Whatever any of you may think about us or our 'recognition' of this threat," and again he almost pointedly does not look at Lily, "whatever motives you might think we have, these are the terms. Your princess is welcome to accept them or reject them."
What command's ultimate play here is, he can't say. Perhaps it simply is that the Metal Demons and their Mother have crossed a threat threshold. Their possible possession of the devices the Commander had spoken of would be reason enough on the surface of it. Even that Mother would likely be a headache to handle.
Perhaps there are other things of importance -- Cecilia herself, maybe. Or things he can only guess at and is frankly better off remaining in the dark regarding.
But he'd realized it while doing research: ultimately, the precise answer here doesn't matter for Solaris.
It may, however, make certain things run a little more smoothly. Depending, naturally.
'Actively helpin' out Shakhan', Gwen pipes up from behind. Will this compromise her use as a tool? Perhaps it's not worth worrying about now.
Emperor damn that man and his... business, Loren thinks, petulantly.
But he tries, nontheless, for the more... diplomatic approach.
It means that the young man is as stiff and as formal as he'd been at his graduation ceremony: eyes forward, a statue of a man. He continues: "Simply put, the Metal Demons and their Mother are too great a threat to ignore any longer. We know that the Princess intends to stand against them. Will you convey this offer to her?"
And she asks again if he wants some juice. "No," he says, more bluntly this time.
<Pose Tracker> Emma Hetfield has posed.
"Oh, you know him too," Emma says to Lily as she takes a deep drag and exhales. Lily says her piece and Gwen does too. Emma considers matters along with working her way through the death stick, reaching over to put it down in a piece of polished brass set there for just this purpose. She turns her heater around, moving the glow, and rises from her seat again.
It's a little rough. Emma has a youthful spirit and is hardly old, but she's not young either.
She looks at Loren as he speaks.
"Unconditional support," Emma muses.
She steps forwards towards Loren. She doesn't have another shiver attack, not now - though the realigned heater helps. She doesn't hasten. "It must be difficult for you," Emma says. "It sounds like you're being used as a messenger and I can tell that you'd rather lick out that ashtray than say what you're saying."
Closer. "I wonder why they picked you... unless it's one of those situations where as angry as you look, you are the one who likes us the best?"
Closer. "And unconditional. Whoo hoo hee hee. That's quite a big number. The problem is that I suspect a lot here, Loren sweetie. You people stole a Golem. You blew up my house - or at least you were there when it happened; I was occupied being shot at by a Metal Demon, trying to improvise... you know, it's taken years off of my life, years I could have spent raising my demi-adoptive quasi-children or working on inventions that would revolutionize the face of Filgaia."
Coming up closer, she reaches up to place her hands on Loren's shoulders with a firm pap. "I'm saying this," Emma says to Loren, "because you should realize that I have an actual -- I don't know what to call it; it's a sort of disorder, it's why I'm a genius but it's also why I'm so lovelorn and lonely. Because it's hard for me to really understand people. I had to do it as a science. I realize now that you may think I'm making fun of you, but I really did never suspect anything was amiss about you."
"I had to learn how to overcome it in order to grow in my study of the ARM..."
Emma leans forwards now, her glasses gleaming. "But I'm not angry at you. I'm not angry at you. I'm not angry at you - do you understand me? Because I think that the Princess WILL be every one of those things, and I want to know," closer she gets, almost to the point of putting her forehead against Loren's, "I want to know just how much you're willing to put on the line to complete your mission, because whatever you think of us, we're going to need to see some skin in the game. Or else we're going to think, oh: They'll just snipe us when we're bloodied from battle. They'll steal the other Golems."
"What are you offering? Gears? Your sexy airships? Medical supplies? I don't know what you have, in Gebler, or what you're offering... A box full of clean new ARMs? Thirty boxes? Aveh?"
Then Emma abruptly straightens up and sweeps her arm around Loren's shoulder. "Oh, my, listen to me! I guess I'm a little more upset than I thought. But more seriously - are you asking me to be your representative to the Princess about a meeting? Because I can tell you right now," and here her voice lowers down to a low flat monotone, "I don't put kidnapping past your organization."
"Gwen! The pineapple juice cans that aren't committed are sitting loose on top of that crate over there. Why don't you get one, and on that OTHER box on the work table you'll find the Hetfield Industry Can Openers. Bring us four. One for our new friend," and here she squeezes Loren and then lets go. "And one for each of us, too."
<Pose Tracker> Lily Keil has posed.
Loren declines. This is fine to Lily. She doesn't offer one to Gwen, perhaps because she intuitively imagines the girl has heart problems, perhaps not. But when he complains...
"Voss, my entire existence is a fire hazard. I was setting things ablaze while you were still clinging to your mother's skirts." Casual derision may make her point fairly well. Nevertheless... She does react to the badge. She watches Loren silently as he explains the play, the intent; unconditional support. The threat that Mother and the Metal Demons pose to all of them. ...The call for the Princess, in particular.
"That's more or less what I was thinking," Lily does tell Gwen. But otherwise...
Otherwise, Lily learns more about Emma Hetfield than she ever expected to know, in the course of her concerns. And when Emma finishes, and asks Gwen to see to the pineapple juice, Lily lowers her cigarette enough to speak.
"She'll be angry," Lily agrees. "But she may not be suspicious enough, frankly. That's why it's good that you chose to come to us first. It's for the best, for everyone involved. Because..."
"I'll be clear, too. We've got the spirit of that going. The truth is that as you know, I hate you. I hate every single one of you in Gebler, with the occasional exception, and it is one of my very fondest wishes that one day I will be present to find your cities and burn them to the ground myself, and walk among the ash that is left of your civilization, grinding the last piece of it to dust under my feet. You know this."
"...And it is the fact that Mother will destroy all of this world if she is not stopped that I don't make any moves right now, and allow you to actually present your case. Because, frankly, my grudge is not as important as the continued existence of the planet and certain beings on it."
"But if you can convince her," Lily motions with her cigarette to Emma, "Then I will advise that Her Highness accepts your aid. And I'm listening."
<Pose Tracker> Emma Hetfield has posed.
("You were wise to approach me," Emma tells Loren during the brief pause after 'you know this.')
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
'Unconditional support.'
Gwen suppresses the urge to whistle, even if the urge is genuine. It certainly shows Solaris understands the weight of the situation. Otherwise, she wisely stays silent, letting Emma and, eventually, Lily have their say. It's a good demonstration of just how terrible Gebler has been, for one. Also, didn't Emma already ask that questio- oh. Oh. .... Oh. Maybe
The courier constant smile almost gains an apologetic slant as Emma closes in, also like a shark following the trace of blood in the water.
Auntie Frea was like this when she was younger, sans a little less touchy. Or forehead-y? ... okay, no, she'd likely be just as grouchy, but man. Scholars all seem to have the same level of devotion to their craft. .... And to demi-adoptive quasi-children.
Then Emma says her name. Half of Gwen's spine straightens in instinct and old habit. "-Right on it!" she states, sliding off the crate and moving towards those loose cans. Realizing her ARM is still inside her parka, Gwen just stacks three cans under her left arm, and, informally, she eases her ARM hand out one sleeve of her parka in order to coax it around the handle of a can opener. She could've used her mouth, yes, but that's best suited for times when she's *not* handing people things.
"Now, now, guys," Gwen starts, with a laugh as she hands cans out (or indicated where they need to grab them, anyway), "Mr. Voss is a messenger here. N' that means, for right now, I'm feelin' pretty agreeable t'the idea that he's probably just doin' his job, same as when I have t'deliver some bills or warrants. At least, in places where those sorts of things have any power to be worth the paper." Presenting the can of pineapple juice to Loren (thankfully, the one she's holding), she hands him a can opener. "My take on it is that we can be all mean t'him, or we can save that anger and frustration for later. 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend, temporarily, until they decide they're my enemy again' n' such. Cecilia's pretty smart, and with you guys' council, she'd probably make a well-reasoned decision."
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
'Unconditional support.'
Gwen suppresses the urge to whistle, even if the urge is genuine. It certainly shows Solaris understands the weight of the situation. Otherwise, she wisely stays silent, letting Emma and, eventually, Lily have their say. It's a good demonstration of just how terrible Gebler has been, for one. Also, didn't Emma already ask that questio- oh. Oh. .... Oh.
The courier constant smile almost gains an apologetic slant as Emma closes in, also like a shark following the trace of blood in the water.
Auntie Frea was like this when she was younger, sans a little less touchy. Or forehead-y? ... okay, no, she'd likely be just as grouchy, but man. Scholars all seem to have the same level of devotion to their craft. .... And to demi-adoptive quasi-children.
Then Emma says her name. Half of Gwen's spine straightens in instinct and old habit. "-Right on it!" she states, sliding off the crate and moving towards those loose cans. Realizing her ARM is still inside her parka, Gwen just stacks three cans under her left arm, and, informally, she eases her ARM hand out one sleeve of her parka in order to coax it around the handle of a can opener. She could've used her mouth, yes, but that's best suited for times when she's *not* handing people things.
"Now, now, guys," Gwen starts, with a laugh as she hands cans out (or indicated where they need to grab them, anyway), "Mr. Voss is a messenger here. N' that means, for right now, I'm feelin' pretty agreeable t'the idea that he's probably just doin' his job, same as when I have t'deliver some bills or warrants. At least, in places where those sorts of things have any power to be worth the paper." Presenting the can of pineapple juice to Loren (thankfully, the one she's holding), she hands him a can opener. "My take on it is that we can be all mean t'him, or we can save that anger and frustration for later. 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend, temporarily, until they decide they're my enemy again' n' such. Cecilia's pretty smart, and with you guys' council, she'd probably make a well-reasoned decision."
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
He sniffs, as if irritated by some component of that statement of hers. "Unfortunate for me, I suppose, it doesn't seem like you played with fire enough around flammable objects."
There is a brief pause.
"And for the record, my mother doesn't wear skirts."
With those pleasantries out of the way, it's down to business!
Which he delivers to Emma, which she mulls over.
That is, in fact, what he is. He's the messenger.
Why was he tasked to this, when there were others -- Tabitha, maybe; she's more personable with the Lambs; or Leah -- who might complete the job more easily and more correctly than he could?
But it was the Commander who had made the request. Maybe the Commander had seen something in him -- it's almost too much to hope for.
(It's pathetic, is what it is, another part of him adds sotto voce.)
But all the same, here he is, and he's going to try, dammit.
It's to this point that Gwen interjects. "Whitlock..." he utters, perhaps a little dispairingly.
Emma meanwhile takes another step closer, and if it were possible for him stand up any straighter he'd make a good carpenter's level.
"Took into custody," he interjects, on the matter of the Golem.
Followed by: "I don't even know where you lived." Other than Adlehyde, that is.
She puts her hands on his shoulders and he stiffens like an unhappy cat might when resisting being picked up.
There's a reason even Ramses had felt talks with Cecilia would fail, and it's there, underlined in red several times, as laid out in what Emma details. He tries to draw back as she draws even closer to him, as if in sublime discomfort now, but there really isn't anywhere to go without physically stepping away from her, and...
And, well, that would probably look weak, he figures to himself, a touch lamely.
Not equipment, that's for sure, is what he thinks, but what he says is: "That would be determined by the Commander. I'm not at liberty to discuss the fine details. If you're willing to listen, I will give means by which you or the Princess, whoever you think the better party, may speak to him."
He has dove deep into the territory of the cat-that-does-not-want-to-be-held territory now. Her arm is over his shoulder. "Yes. That was my intention," he says, tone as brittle as china. "I don't believe your Princess would care to see any of us darken her doorstep, let alone speak to her."
If there were any way for Loren to more clearly articulate what he thinks of Lily's promise, it would likely have to be spoken aloud. As it were, the expression on his face more closely approximates the professor who's entered the lecture hall to find a throng of rowdy students.
To whit: that intersection of really and 'I'm not paid enough for this'.
He slowly closes his eyes, if only for a moment.
"Yes. Precisely," he says flatly. "You see the level of grace I get to put up with."
But that. Now that's interesting. So she'll vouch for their agreement if he can convince Emma? A blond eyebrow raises a touch; he glances at Lily sidelong as if to attempt to read her.
Color him, quite possibly, a little impressed.
At which point he finds himself in possession of a can of juice. Tendering Gwen a look that might as well read 'thanks, I guess?' he gives in and, after some finagling, manages to figure out how to use the can opener and gets the container open.
He glances over at Gwen before taking a cautious sip. The Commander had something like that, though it was more accurately put: 'the enemy of my enemy is my enemy's enemy'.
"Your decision, Miss Hetfield?"
<Pose Tracker> Emma Hetfield has posed.
The sheer throbbing depths of Lily's hatred for the people of Gebler or whatever it's called is strange to Emma. She can comprehend it... but only intellectually. She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose, lets out a breath, and then Gwen passes round the cans of juice.
And the opener! Emma uses hers to pop first one hole, then a second, in the lid of her can; the juice is cold, since the place is pretty chilly away from Emma's radiator. She looks towards Gwen with a half-lidded smile of thanks before she turns her attention to Loren.
She doesn't drink her juice until after he does.
But it seems to be authentic pineapple juice. God alone knows where the Lacourians got it. (Spoilers: A coastal pineapple farm. The crop was ripe as they were getting in their boat.)
"Ah," Emma says brightly. "So you CAN eat our food! Wonderful, wonderful. I had been wondering!"
She raises the can. "I'll take your dingus, Mr. Voss, and I'll give it to the Princess with your request. I make no guarantees - she might have to let me do the talking, and I'll warn you that I have ruined dozens of people at pinochle - but sometimes we have to take a leap of faith!"
To Gwen, she says, "He didn't even flinch at the poison." A beat passes. "I'M KIDDING! There's nothing in there but pineapple juice and a little bit of sliced cucumber."
<Pose Tracker> Lily Keil has posed.
Lily's hatred is more intense than most people would recognize unflinching. That itself is not so strange. ...But Lily at least does listen, doesn't even seem to take spiteful pleasure in the way Loren is impressed as he hears her take on the matter. She at least made clear her feelings, but for the actual matter at hand...
Lily opens the can of juice, drinks some of it without thinking much about it. She enjoys the taste; it's quite different. But this...
Emma mentions the poison, and Lily's train of thought is interrupted. She turns her eyes towards the woman and then--
"...Heh."
"...Ah, ha ha--ahh, ha ha--"
Lily spends the next few moments subtly cracking up, never quite loud enough to be a normal person's laugh but nevertheless keeping her busy for the next few moments as she raises her cigarette hand to forestall answer. "Sure, sure," she says to Gwen about Loren, sighs lightly, shakes her head. "All right, fine," Lily says. "Miss Hetfield, if you don't mind, please let Her Highness know that I think it's worth doing. We need the help we can get. ...And of course, if they double-cross us later, it's not as if we were friends to begin with."
She looks to Loren, shakes her head. "A leap of faith. ...Regardless, thank you, I needed that," she remarks about the... poison? And then starts forward, to move past Loren. "Was there anything else? I have a lot of travelling ahead of me."
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
"-Oh." As Loren has some difficulty, Gwen subtly attempts to nudge him in the right direction, her hands complusively moving to the opener, then drawing away as Loren continues to persist with it. "Right." Nothing too obvious in her guidance; she's already drawing away to enjoy her drink by the time he's managed to figure it out on his own.
"Would've been real hard for him if he couldn't," Gwen surmises with a chuckle. "Though I bet the first few months are probably pretty bumpy."
'He didn't even flinch at the poison,' Emma says, to a Gwen that is... drinking from the pineapple can, of course. Choking as Emma follows quickly with her denial, Gwen wipes her nose and mouth against her right sleeve, using it to stifle a few more lingering coughs as Lily begins to crack up.
".... The cucumber, is, uh, a nice touch," Gwen says, her throat still scratchy from the sudden fit of coughing. "The coldness adds a real nice bite, too."
Clearing her throat again, Gwen adds, "It ain't up t'me, but I'll add my vote in too. We need a good way t'get into the Photosphere, and even if we manage t'do it by ourselves, we'd still have whatever's waitin' on the inside of that hornet's nest. Not only that, we have the Veruni t'deal with, with their tech. We need each other to make sure we don't get swamped. We're all in this together."
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
He tries to shake Gwen's hand off, attempting to suggest that he's 'got this' no matter how surreptitiously a form her help takes. It takes him a while to get it open as a result.
It tastes alright.
(Most things taste alright to him.)
More importantly it's not alcoholic near as he can tell. He takes another draw from the can, apparently not noticing (or not caring?) that Emma is waiting for him to drink first.
He levels her a look that might be some highly sarcastic form of a 'yes, I can'. "It would be better if it were something warm," he says. "But it isn't bad."
He's not entirely sour.
A pause follows. His... what? "...Fine. Agreed, I'll pass it along," he says, attempting not to punctuate the statement with some sort of sigh. "Should she accept, we will lend our full assistance, as stated."
...The what. The face Loren pulls is one for the books as he stares at his can.
It's a joke. The sort that Lily would find hilarious.
"If you had poisoned it, I'm not certain what that would say about your foresight or your... operation here," he remarks dryly, fixing the can with a disgruntled look.
"Precisely." This is to Gwen's comment. "Trust us or don't -- it doesn't matter. The Metal Demons cannot be tolerated any longer. That's all."
As for Lily, he only has two things to say to her:
"So good to receive your full confidence, Keil."
and
"Nothing that I'd need you around for," as she fixes to go.
Once things are settled here with Emma, he's going to get out himself. It's a distance back to where he's currently camped, and something tells him staying the night here is going to be a regretful choice.