A Fated Meeting! Rosie and Deman!

[Fox]

Rosalyn wasn’t amused. In order to whip her into proper shape as a Marine Officer, her father had gone behind her back and gotten her reassigned. She knew it was him despite how he played innocent. He was terrible at lying. She would much rather be back in her lab, toying with her test subjects and conducting experiments and testing her prototypes. Mm. Her lukewarm efforts to please her father hadn’t been enough, she supposed. He had always pushed her to take the initiative and lead a proud crusade of justice. She’d had no particular design on a higher rank than Ensign, but being reassigned and ordered about by a very proactive captain made her reconsider.

Sighing heavily, Rosie tried distracting herself by glancing over to the docks. She had been ordered by her commanding officer to oversee a visiting marine ship transporting some sort of live cargo. From context clues, Rosie had determined that the cargo was probably people just from the whispers from the sailors aboard. She spared a thought or two what business someone might have transporting people around, but didn’t linger on it too long. They could be refugees or something of the like. Rosie couldn’t say she cared much to stick her nose into it. Adjusting her glasses, she looked down at the clipboard to see what was left. Currently, they were resupplying the ship with extra rations and medical supplies. They probably wouldn’t be done with that until sunset. After that… guard duty. Mm. Rosie leafed through her papers to figure out just who she would assign to the graveyard shift.

“Mm…”

“E-excuse me, ma’am!”

“Hrm?” Peering down her nose at the young marine standing dutifully at attention in front of her, Rosie gestured for him to speak.

“We’ve finished our inspection! Um… everything seems up to code, but I’m a little… worried about the passengers.”

Rosie raised an eyebrow at that and hunched over the young marine, completely covering him with her looming shadow. “Oh…? Pray tell. What are your concerns…?”

A little taken aback by her sudden looming presence, the little marine stood his ground, which made an unpleasantly crooked smile appear on Rosie’s face. Still, he didn’t falter. He gathered up his courage and held true. Adorable. Rosie had to resist the impulse to pat him on the head like a little puppy.

“Well, ma’am! It seems some of them are injured and haven’t received medical attention.”

“Oh, is that all? That’s no trouble. I’ll arrange for their care. Good work, dismissed, and all that…” Retracting and standing up straight again, she waved the marine away dismissively. She caught the relieved look that he gave her and tuned out his thanks and acknowledgement. She added another item to her to-do list. She would have to find that good-for-nothing that ran the ship. Well, it would be a nice break from her duties as an overseer. Plus, loading up cargo was something even slaves could do with reliability. She could also pick up some lunch. Wouldn’t that be nice? Pushing up her glasses and grinning, Rosie turned to head into town.

[pepsi]

"Phoebe..." Deman asked, "... what are you doing with my notes?"

The green haired girl, slouching over a set of papers on her thighs, turned her head to him with the pen on her lips. "I was bored, so I started listing down all the kinds of celery I know." Deman's response was just a raised eyebrow. "So far I got..." she continued, checking her script, "... 'regular celery'."

Deman chuckled, and sighed; the ones she was scribbling over were the drafts, anyways. The news of a ship chuck full of slaves docking in Loguetown had caused quite a stir in Deman's little world; ever since he caught wind of it, cross-examining what he had learned on the various kinds of Marine ships, he decided that his first anti-government act would be marked by freedom and by fire. A testament to the second opportunity at life everyone should have, he thought; he planned every detail.

"I'm going to the docks, see if I can get some more info on the ship. You remember what you have to do, right?"

"OH! Regular celery!!"

Phoebe checked her scribbles again, and looked displeased to find the same words already on her list. Deman sighed, once more. "Yeah, yeah, I'll get clothes, go out and tick all the boxes." "Hm, better do it quick. I'd want it done by lunchtime."

She waved her hand up and down, signaling him to go on with his stuff; he caught the message, and headed outside without a second thought.

---

“Well, ma’am! It seems some of them are injured and haven’t received medical attention.”

Sitting on a bench on the docks, watching the ships gently drift, Deman had been listening all morning to the incessant exchanges between the captains and their subordinates. He was interested of course only in what the Marines had to say about the shipment due for departure the next day. From that place, he could clearly hear everything - thanks to his heightened senses - without giving the impression of being able to do so.

But that last exchange was particularly interesting. Deman still wasn't sure that the cargo was, indeed, slaves; knowing that they had received no medical attention, however, made progress towards certainty.

He had to talk to someone closer to the ship directly, he thought, and he might just have known who. He stood up, and went directly for the guards; one of them, probably the tallest woman he had ever seen, was just about to leave.

He smiled softly, and tilted his head slightly to grab her attention. "Excuse me, Officer" he begun, "are you in charge of the ship's surveillance?" he asked, pointing his finger directly at it. "... did I interrupt anything? Were you called somewhere else?"

[Kikori]

---

Merchant's Quarter
The crackling and roaring of the fire behind him was almost enough to deafen Kikori if he hadn't replaced his ears with far more... efficient methods of hearing. The purring hum of his saws could vaguely be heard over the sound of the mansion behind him burning to the ground as he stalked across the once fresh and green yard, now little more than a wasteland from where flame and blood had scoured it. His robotic legs dug into the earth beneath them, talons churning it as followed after the scrambling image of a man. The large man was dressed in what had once been a top of the line suit, now torn to shreds and stained with blood and dirt as he crawled across the ground slowly. Kikori opened his maw, steam escaping it as his steps increased in pace and he quickly began to close the gap between him and his target. Hearing the tell tale clanking of the cyborg, the bodyguard's scrabbling's became more frantic as he reached his target, the fallen body of one of his compatriots. Yanking the gun out of the hands of the fallen man, he turns around with a roar and fires, the sound of the shot echoing out...



And then rocketing off into the distance as he completely misses. "Kikikikikiki! Hello there." Kikori laughs from above the man before a clawed foot comes forward and wraps itself around the man's face. The screaming continued, muffled this time, as Kikori lifted the man high in to the air, only stopping once he brought his foot back down with a sickening crunch. Then, the only sounds were the crackling and rumbling of the slowly collapsing house behind him, the mechanical whirr of his saws switching out with his regular hands, and the low hiss of gas that escapes from the side of the Mad Butcher's mouth. Then, as if waking from a fugue, the man's body shakes and his eyes widen, looking around at the destruction around him. His throat bobs as he swallows, restraining himself from crying out. Oh, what had he done?! It- It wasn't his fault! He needed to let it out, to- to stop it from taking him again, and these- these were bad people. The swindlers, bankers, liars and their bodyguards. This was- he had- he had done the right thing. They couldn't expect him to resist the urge, and it might as well be these guys! They had weapons, it was a fair fight!

Walking away from the burning house, Kikori glanced up towards the sky. It hadn't actually been that long since he started, less than an hour if he was judging correctly, so he probably had a good while to get out before whatever marines on duty were able to make it here in numbers he couldn't... deal with. Stepping outside of the ruined gate that they had thought would keep them safe, Kikori pauses as he felt a familiar burn begin to flicker to life once more. "No... damn it, damn it, that should have been enough." He mutters to himself, looking around frantically. He was still in control for now. He needed to leave. There wasn't much time, and he needed to find a new target. Something that could slake the thirst. 

[Fox]

Docks

---

Rosie didn’t get two steps before another interruption to her day decided to speak with her. She was half expecting another marine when she glanced down, but to her mild and dull surprise, it was a civilian. A curious onlooker? But what was so thrilling about watching a boat be loaded up? To her, it was akin to watching paint dry. His choice of words was also strange. She leaned down to get a better look at him, casting her shadow as she had to the marine before. Hm… he had rather intelligent and piercing eyes, so maybe he wasn’t a buffoon. Her hollow eyes regarded him like one would a specimen under a microscope.

“Mm, yes, I suppose. Though surveillance is a strong word. I’d term it babysitting. Did you need something?” She just smiled a little wryly when he asked if he had interrupted. A very curious sort, wasn’t he? Sure, she needed to go talk to the ship’s captain to discuss medical treatment of the passengers, but she kind of preferred this distraction. He was probably in one of the pubs around town, so finding him would be agony. “Did you? I wonder… but no, actually, I was going to enjoy my lunch.”

She gestured toward the street headed into town with a sweep of her hand. “We can walk and talk if you like.” Honestly, she had no idea what to get. She wasn’t very particular about her food so long as it contained all of the nutrients that she required. It wasn’t that long ago when she’d forget or skip meals and pull all nighters in her lab. She had pretty much been ordered to eat by her father on the rare occasion that she didn’t eat anything after two days. He was a Vice Admiral, so she couldn’t exactly refuse. Hm… some tea sounded nice though. She glanced down at the man. “Do you like tea, Mister…?” She trailed off at the end so the man could supply her with a name. Marines were easier to deal with. You could just refer to them by rank and not learn their names.

---

[pepsi]

Town Center

---

The marine hunched closer to Deman's face, in a motion he could only describe as "inspecting" him. Was it that she had to verify his identity, called by duty? It didn't seem likely. She was tall, and considering most of the people he knew were about his height, it could very well be a habit. Anyhow, he replied by looking at the officer straight in the eyes. He was well aware his gaze worked better than any verbal presentation.

"Actually, yes." The Marine continued before he could explain exactly what he needed. "Yes, walking is okay. And I suppose lunchtime will come sooner than I expected."

He nodded, and followed the tall girl wherever she had intended to go. After a time without interaction, she proposed tea. "Reeves. And sure, tea sounds great" he agreed, and pointed out a nice teahouse he knew, not far from where he lived.  He reserved proper presentation for after they had taken their seat and ordered a cup. For him, "the usual". "Call me Deman, anyways. I own the toy shop not far from here. And you are Officer...?"

He switched to the actual matter. "Indeed, it's my job calling." He shifted slightly in his seat, assuming a straighter pose; even the softness he had shown at the very beginning gave way to a more stern look. "It has been a tradition of mine to offer toys and other trinkets to the people that the Government intends on transfering from one place to the other. It doesn't happen always, but I do my best." Deman smiled again, his eyes inspecting the surface of the tea. "It's very popular with the children, you know." It was a play on empathy and sobriety; he was a lying bastard, but he knew he was good at being a lying bastard.

Of a sudden, his face darkened; his eyes darted from the tea to the Marine and back, as he recalled the facts. "I've been transferred once, too; they didn't even give me twigs to brush my teeth with in the morning. Some ships are not suited for the job, and the experience can be frightening." He sighed. "Some don't even have proper infirmaries." Taking the last sip of his tea, he shifted once more in the chair.

"Long story short, some of the toys I wish to deliver aren't ready yet. Optimistically speaking, it's going to take me all afternoon." Looking outside, he placed the cup back on its plate almost without producing a sound. "So if you do, well, the 'babysitting', I thought you might also know if there's any time the ship wouldn't be open to the general public. Or better, if at any time people are going to be transferred from the ship to some other place - I could deliver then."

---

Merchant's Quarter

---

Phoebe needed at least one more hour to get dressed. She would grab one of Deman's clothes, try it on, forget it on, and wish for something to put on; this happened for shirts, pants, and coats. Eventually, she found something to wear and went outside. She wandered for at least one hour and a half, alternating between forgetting what she was supposed to do and stopping, whipping out a piece of paper, and reading what Deman had written on it. She was tasked with finding a set of people - "at least two armed people, capable of killing", that's what the paper read - but the problem was, she had no idea where to start.

And that's exactly where it started. She heard a whirring, a clanking, a thudding; and naturally, being Phoebe, she was immediately curious. And by the curious beast she was, nothing would stop her from checking what exactly was going on. So she ran towards the source of all the noise, finally not purposeless.

What she saw was a terrifying robot, with nightmarish legs and even more frightening posture, stepping on a body covered in blood. What most people would do in such a situation would probably be running and screaming on top of their lungs - but not Phoebe, no. She pulled the paper out again and carefully read it.

"Yes, it looks armed. And it looks like it has killed..." she thought. She waited for the metallic monster to notice her, and greeted him with a radiant smile. "Uhm... Hallo? Mister Robot?" She started, not considering the danger in the slightest. After all, she was asked to do something and, by the stars, she was going to do a good job. She owed it to Deman, at least.

"I uh... I would like to ask you if you are... armed, and if you are... capable of killing." She repeated those words almost as if she didn't understand their meaning.

[Kikori]

Kikori's head snapped to the side in Phoebe's direction as he registered the voice directed at him, having been so caught up in his own blind panic and general horror that he hadn't noticed the smaller woman until she was almost on top of him. He stared with an almost frightening intensity as she looked between him and a piece of paper, before eventually managing to stammer out a question. Kikori, for his part, roved his eyes over the figure of the woman, looking for any sort of weaponry or something that looked like she was about to pounce. Finding nothing, he let out a mechanical whirr of both relief and building frustration, before staring back into the eyes of the... somewhat off looking girl. He wasn't able to tell exactly what was going on there, but was also willing to bet that she wasn't exactly human. Maybe it was the eyes, they seemed kind of big. Or maybe it was the fact that she had just walked up to him as he left the burning remains of a home filled with corpses and not only asked if he could kill, but did it with a smile that was almost blinding. 

"My name is Kikori." He eventually responds, voice sounding like it had gone through a blender on low battery. Stepping closer, his talons dig into the earth but he doesn't make a move against her. He could feel the call for violence, the urge to attack and slaughter and maim and kill- But no. She was unarmed, and didn't seem like a bad person. He needed to- needed to at least try and direct himself towards better things. A whirring came from his arm as clear segments appear in the skin of his 'flesh' and his hand rotates back to fit into his elbow, instead being replaced by one of his two saws. "I'm gonna guess that you're not exactly lost. Why are you here? What do you want?" He continues, stepping closer once more until he was close enough to cast his shadow over her, hoping to intimidate and scare the weird girl out of whatever hair brained idea it was that she had come to him for. Even then, however, he felt a small tingle of interest and excitement. What if she had come to him to kill? That would be perfect! He could- He could do it all and it would be someone else's fault! 

[Fox]

Town Center

---

“Ah, Mister Reeves. Very good.” As Reeves took the lead and showed her to a nice little tea house, Rosie combed through some of the cobwebs in the part of her brain that she had relegated to memorizing bounties. The name didn’t ring a bell and neither did the face. But he did want something, so she supposed that she ought to hear him out. She was curious after all. Rosie sat down across from him, finally almost eye level with the man given how much she was slouching. She ordered what the man ordered, not having a particular care for a specific kind of tea as well as some tiny snack sandwiches. She specifically ordered that they be extra tiny, but restaurants seldom realized what she meant by it. Her attention turned back to Reeves as he spoke up again.

“Deman, the toy maker, then? My, my, how curious. It’s Lovelace around marines, but I suppose, for lunch at least, you may call me Rosalyn. Or Rose. Or Rosie. Whatever’s your pleasure.” She watched him shift in his seat and straighten. His expression became stern, and Rosalyn was reminded of one of her old COs who had liked to smack her for breaking the dress code. She listened to him, raising an eyebrow curiously. A tradition, was it? It sounded a little odd to her, but she hadn’t been stationed here very long, so it was possible. Still, one thing about it felt off to her. “You heard that did you? You have astute hearing, Deman. But now, do you mean to offer... charity? Or peddle your wares?”

She paused to wait for an answer before continuing. “You see, I’m not sure from what circumstances these people are coming from, you see. I wouldn’t want them taken advantage of… It wouldn’t be prudent for their future.” A child’s whining and tearful gaze could break a parent in an instant. Something Rosie knew from personal experience. Taking a nice long sip of tea, Rosie watched with increasing interest as his expression darkened further. She was a little surprised when he mentioned that he had been transported once by marines. Interesting. It seemed like it hadn’t been a pleasant experience. It reminded her of the voyage to Duke Kitty’s estate. She reminisced for a moment or two until she realized why he had brought the topic up. Ah, a convincing argument, to be sure. Someone like that probably wouldn’t take advantage of whatever passengers were aboard, but… still.

“I’ve experienced something similar myself actually. An unpleasant experience… to be sure.” Rosie brushed her hand over where her identification number was tattooed on her neck absentmindedly. To be perfectly honest, the whole affair had been unpleasant from start to finish. Toys wouldn’t have made her voyage any better. She could scarcely see the use of them, but children did seem attracted to such things. She closed her eyes and thought about it while he asked when would be an appropriate time to deliver them. Hm… the question about a place for housing for the passengers struck her as odd, but she supposed that she could give him a vague timeline.

“The ship leaves in the morning. God awfully early, I’m sure.” Rosie harrumphed a little at that. Thanks to their early departure, she wasn’t going to get any sleep at all. She hated mornings. She took another long sip of tea to soothe her irritation and finished the cup off. Thankfully, the waiter arrived with the most perfectly sized little sandwiches in the word. They were bite sized even for Deman. The delight showing in her face, she happily popped them one by one into her mouth. They were just adorable.

[pepsi]

Town Center

---

"Ironic", he thought. "At this level, we're almost the same height." He knew that if he wanted to gain something out of this exchange, it had to be done there and then.

Deman frowned at the assertion that he "heard that". She had fallen right into his trap, and it was time to bring out his most powerful card: "Huh. Heard that?" he huffed, reaching for his coat's buttons. He looked genuinely lost in thought as he unbuttoned the coat, and one sleeve of his white shirt. "I don't want to seem rude, but... Maybe you'll understand better." He rolled it up, and let the girl see.

His forearm was almost entirely covered in scars, evident relics of the man's past. "I was transfered... over and over. I think now you know why." His arm dropped like a dead weight, letting gravity do the work of covering it back. "I've been on one too many ships, Rosie. Marine ships, private ships." His eyes locked on to hers to deliver the punchline. "Eventually, I got my freedom. That's how I know."

That was a truth and a lie. He had sailed only a few times, and all his knowledge came from books and papers; but he did, in fact, get his freedom. He softly smiled once again, as the next joke came to his mind: "You get the idea from my arm alone. I'd undress more, but I'm not that kind of a man."

He watched as she grabbed the sandwiches, comically small if compared to the size of her head. She continued, and Deman had to look away not to make it seem like he was narrowing his eyes. She wasn't budging, that much was clear. "I supposed so. They always leave early in the morning." He sighed. "I'm sure they won't let me just give my stuff away the moment before sailing. Maybe I should just pass by, probably at sunset given how many wool braids I'm going to have to make, or an hour into the evening. Are you going to be there?"




Merchant's Quarter

---

The robot's shadow covered her eyes, and she immediately noticed that a lot of light had been coming into her eyes up until that moment. Phoebe leant slightly to the side, and noticed the fire. She huffed, and went back to his paper, shuffling it around in her hands. "What do I want...?" she repeated, trying to find a checkbox with the answer written on it. She gave up, eventually. "My boss is looking for someone to help assault a ship." She was sure of that, she could remember it well. The details of the plan... not so much.

Anyways, most of her knowledge was indeed wrong. Deman knew how easy it was for her to let secrets slip up, so he willingly gave her wrong details - on the one hand, it was quite improbable that she would remember; on the other hand, even if she did remember, she wouldn't question it if her knowledge contrasted with what Deman actually had in mind. She didn't care enough to point out contradictions. "That's pretty much it. And you seem to have fire... and uh..." a quick glance to the paper, "... and arms. At least two arms. No, wait..."

She sighed and let her gaze down, realizing her demeanor just wasn't going to cut it. She didn't want to piss off anyone, it just was so damn difficult to push through all her thoughts all the time and say something sensible. "Anyways, we just need you by the docks at midnight, 'sharp'." She air quoted, and realized that the four fingers were exactly the ones Deman had told her to use if she had trouble remembering the number of the dock. A genius, she thought - he knew she would have had no trouble following a single thread, instead of running information in parallel. "Yes! Dock number four, Mister Kikorobot." Contented with the result, she smiled and proceeded to straighten her back - assuming a pose somewhat similar to her "boss", in a botched impression of him - and repeated one of his typical quotes: "Any questions?".

[Kikori]

Merchant's Quarter

---

Assault a ship? With people and sailors and guards? The very idea of it was enough to send a small shudder running through Kikori, a wave of... something running through him. Like electricity. He didn't much care for anything else, despite the fact that the girl had just admitted that she was working for someone else. It really wasn't his business, that part, as from what she was saying he was just supposed to act as a sort of muscle, or perhaps a distraction? He would like it that way. All of them to himself... A grinding noise comes from his mask as steel scrapes against steel in his best attempt at a smile. The weird girl continued to talk, and he was starting to believe that maybe she had something wrong with her head, the way she kept glancing between the sheaf of paper and then back to him with confusion on her face. Normally he might have been curious enough to see what was on there, but that temptation was stamped out by the sudden disappointment brought on by her telling him that the slaughter was going to have to come later at midnight. That was... that was fine though. He could handle that. Kikori could hold on that long at least. 

He mentally wrote down the information she was giving him. Dock four, midnight... Easy and simple to remember, although maybe not for her. "Yeah." He scrapes out when she asks him if he had any questions. "Who am I killin'? Is it just gonna be me there? And most importantly..." A metallic hand reached out to try and grab the top of the woman's head, as his own lowered to her level. "Who the hell are you?" He had thought his arrival and attack had been swift enough that he wouldn't be tracked down, and yet this... woman, he was going to say, managed to find him barely minutes after his task was done. He couldn't afford to be caught. That would mean he couldn't kill, and to go without blood... without the screams... he wasn't sure what would become of him. 

[Fox]

Town Center

---

Mm, these tiny sandwiches really hit the spot! Rosie felt refreshed after the doldrums of casual supervision. Still, she kept a keen eye on his face, something still niggling at her about him. When he reached for the buttons of his coat, her mind went to certain places. She couldn’t help her crooked smile from appearing. She didn’t think that was his intention at all, given the setting, but she just had a feeling that she was about to see something very interesting. And, after a moment, she did. Oooh. That was very interesting. Her smile widened. What a coincidence! What marvelous happenstance. A fellow former slave. Curiouser and curiouser.

Why had he shown her this? Surely not just to emphasize his point about the hardships of a voyage. Her eyes flicked to his when he spoke and revealed what she had already confirmed with her own eyes. But why? Was he implying that he knew of the state of the passengers? That he hadn’t overheard? That they were slaves being transported under her nose? Well, that certainly warranted investigation. But so did this man. There had been a ferocity to him when he claimed his freedom. But, almost as soon as it had appeared, it was gone again, hiding under a soft smile. This man was a tiger playing at being a kitten. But instead of pressing, she just laughed at his joke.

“Nor did I take you for such a man.” But Deman did something curious as she attacked her sandwiches again. He turned away to hide his expression to her statement about the ship. Oooh, he was very invested. Mm, what should she do? She wanted to buy a little time for herself and investigate the matter of the passengers. She also wanted to lay a trap for Deman to suss out just whether or not he would do something. He continued while she thought about it, asking whether or not she would be present. Hm-hm. Not a bad time to lay the foundation for her trap.

“No, I’m afraid I won’t. I’ll have to report back to my commander at the base and handle large mounds of paperwork all night. You wouldn’t believe just how much… and I’ll never understand why they need things in triplicate,” Rosie groused, being genuine about her disdain of paperwork. She actually did have that assignment, but a talk with her captain would sort that out. She actually wanted to thank Deman for getting her out of it, but that would just ruin the whole thing. Hm-hm, she wondered how he would react if he knew that she was a former slave as well. Brushing her hair away from her neck and stretching her arms, Rosie was fairly certain her identification would be more noticeable now. She even loosened her collar to draw attention to it - but also because it felt nice. Marine uniforms were horrendously stuffy. “Care for a sandwich?”

She helped herself to a few of them even as she offered. She loved how tiny they were. Just then, the familiar sound of a den den Mushi sounded from within her jacket. A call? Oh, this gave her an idea. She pulled it out and stood up.

“Excuse me a moment. I should take this.”

Walking away and around a corner, she picked it up and answered.

“Ensign Rosalyn Lovelace.”

“Ma’am! I have an update for you!”

“Go ahead.”

“We’ve finished loading the supplies. And we also have a code B-37.”

“Ah, I see. I’ll notify Captain Urok in that case.”

“Yes ma’am!”

Rosie hung up on the marine on the other end of the line and smiled to herself. Oh, how nice. How good. A code B-37 wasn’t anything dire or urgent. It was just a notice that there were large materials being transported around, and so caution was advised when on the docks. Still, she could turn it around into something that helped her. Returning to Deman, she smiled her usual unsettling smile. “Bad news, I’m afraid. The ship just left port. Oh well. Maybe you’ll get some sleep tonight, eh? At least one of us will… I’ll be buried in paperwork, haha…”

There. Rosie was curious to how he would react. She didn’t expect anything extravagant or grandiose. Still, she had a lot of new work that had just been lumped on her plate. Well, at it was interesting work. Not at interesting as being in her lab… but interesting enough. She was more intrigued than ever in this little game.

---

[pepsi]

Town Center

---

"Don't mind if I do." Deman grabbed one of the sandwiches, and tried his hardest not to eat it in a single bite. It wasn't his style to swallow things whole, anyways. He noticed some movement around the area of her neck; was she adjusting her hair and clothes as a sign of attraction? Or did she just want him to see the tattoo on her neck? It didn't matter either way. He had caught a glimpse of it before, but couldn't tell if it was a tattoo or a skin feature.

In any case, he wasn't into her enough to know more; the ship was the only thing that mattered.
That was when she got a call, and had to run around the corner to answer. She was well away from his reach, and getting up to get closer and eavesdrop was out of the question - it would just be weird, wouldn't it? Deman decided to wait for her in his seat, looking outside.


"It... Just left?" Deman was taken completely aback. That couldn't have happened; there was no way, no way in the world his information was incomplete, his calculations incorrect. He looked away, resting his gaze on the rapidly decreasing sandwich population. He tried to smile at the joke, but it didn't come across as softly as before. "I think I'll rest uneasy. I worked hard and... I had my hopes up." He had to rethink his plans. But first, he had to know for certain that what the girl said was, indeed, true. She had no real reason to lie, but he couldn't throw away days of planning for a joke.

He decided he had heard enough. If the ship was gone, there would have been no reason for him to stay; if the ship was still there, the officer wasn't to be trusted. "Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Rosie. Or, Ensign Lovelace, since lunchtime seems to be over. And don't worry, the bill is on me this time." He stood up and went to the counter, wallet in his hand.

He waited for the girl outside, and held out his hand to say proper goodbyes.




Merchant's Quarter

---

Phoebe pressed her index against her lips. "I guess there's a lot of people that can be killed there. There's the Marines, and possibly the city police, and whoever happens to be there, who knows. You couldn't kill the plushies on the ship, though. Those can only die if you don't give them love, like all the other toys. Either way, you'll meet me and my boss, at midnight 'sharp'. Dock four." She air quoted again, in the exact same way.

She seemed unfazed by the robot getting so close to her face. "Oh! I'm Phoebe." She bent her knees at the same speed as the hand approached her head, so the distance between the two could stay comically constant, and started counting on her fingers. "It's P as in Phoebe, H as in Hoebe, O as in Oebe, E as in Ebe..." after the fourth, she switched to counting on Kikori's fingers instead - from a few centimeters of safe distance. "B as in Be-be, and E as in 'ey, I'm Phoebe'." Even in her smiling madness, she was clearly very serious. Spelling was a very important matter.
She drifted to the side, stepping away from being directly under the hand. "So, if you have even more questions, you can ask tonight... I must be going now. See you later!" Phoebe turned around in place, and pranced in the direction she came from.

"I just had to find a psychopath, didn't I?" She thought. She played it much dumber than usual; when she noticed the thing could attack her, she had to make a decision and present herself as completely harmless. In the animal world, such strategies were often successful; her dumb luck saved her one more time.

[Kikori]

Kikori stared at the woman as she counted off her name in a way that had obviously been taught to her by someone else. It was just... she even used his own fingers to count them off, and that last part... He was glad that he hadn't decided to tear her apart, as the thought right now left a bad taste in his mouth. Attack the weak was bad enough, attacking someone who was just that off would have been... he wasn't sure, but considering the fact that the very thought of it was enough to hurt the blood lust within him a little bit, he knew that it wasn't what he wanted. Slowly, his maw creaked open, before a laugh that sound like a blender exited him as she turned to walk away, echoing through the air. "Kiiiikikikikikikikikikiki! Alright, little lady Phoebe! Midnight it is!" He cackles, turning on his own legs and beginning to make a beeline for the nearby outskirts of town. "Then you'll see what you've asked for." He says, out of earshot as he continues forward. He would need to be prepared for the upcoming assault, and that meant two things. Repairs and fuel. Fortunately, he knew where he could get both... 

[Fox]

Town Center

---

Well, there wasn’t much of a reaction to her tattoo, but there was certainly one hell of a reaction to her saying that the ship was gone. There was surprise. No, Rosie would probably term it shock. Like perhaps… he had been wrong about something? He smiled again, but this time it was twisted by something. He worked hard, did he? Even though his toy making would have taken him all day? Yes, she was fairly sure that it was some sort of mischief that he had been up to by now, but she couldn’t arrest him on suspicions alone. So, she had set her trap for him. Rosie almost didn’t want him to show up. If he proved to be problematic… she would be forced to eliminate him, and she sort of liked him. Well, she liked toying with the toy maker at least.

When he had decided to stand up, Rosie did too with a touch of regret. Whatever he was planning, he had gotten all he needed from her, she supposed. Oh, what a perturbed tiger, he was. She could almost see him pacing inside that little cage of his mind. Walking outside, she turned to him and smiled without mirth. “Thank you for the lunch. It was quite… intriguing. Oh. And I suppose I should tell you this. There’s something of a maniac going around recently. I would advise you to stay inside after dark for your safety, of course. At least until he’s apprehended. Farewell, Deman.”

With a wave, Rosalyn turned away and headed down the street toward the docks. She wanted to confirm the nature of the passengers aboard before she did anything rash. But… if they were, in fact, slaves, she would have to get so many things in order. Contact her commander, dupe Captain Urok, move the slaves to a safe location, and lay in wait, hoping that Deman didn’t show his face. She would probably have to move them in small groups. That would probably take a while once things were set in motion. Not to mention the red tape that she’d have to go through to arrest a superior officer. Though, honestly, if it turned out to be true, she would be happy. It would be the most fascinating thing to happen to her since leaving her lab. Maybe field work had its up sides after all.

“Mm-hm. Marvelous. Simply marvelous…” she chuckled under her breath after she was long out of earshot.