[b]Anthrozine:[/b] [b]NumbToNothing[/b]: I’m writing about Junta [b]NumbToNothing[/b]: If you don’t post it I quit [b]AnthrozineEditorYork[/b]: if you don’t submit it you’re fired [b]NumbToNothing[/b]: ah shit [b]3V[/b]: Eli’s serious, I just saw them steal all the absinthe from the hotel bar [b]3V[/b]: and s/he didn’t even share??? [b]NumbToNothing[/b]: I didn’t see you buried under all the wolfmeat [b]3V[/b]: excuse?????? excuse moi???????? [b]PerfidiouslyFickle[/b]: Wait, you’re still at the exhibition too? What if Junta needs anything when he wakes up? [b]3V[/b]: The hospital called. They said not to worry about it. [b]NumbToNothing[/b]: “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” fuck [b]3V[/b]: They don’t know how long he’ll still be in surgery [b]AnthrozineEditorYork[/b]: I thought he was out of surgery? [b]3V[/b]: Yeah and I thought he was stable. [b]3V[/b]: You know who’s listed as his next of kin? [b]3V[/b]: Guess who learned today! [b]AnthrozineEditorYork[/b]: ah shit [b]3V[/b]: It was me!~ I’m his favorite!~ [b]3V[/b]: They already took out one of his kidneys but some shrapnel got his stomach and it’s been leaking since they closed him up [b]3V[/b]: The doctors told me it’s probably worse than it sounds [b]3V[/b]: And I said I’m not a doctor but that sounds pretty bad [b]3V[/b]: and they were like yeah [b]3V[/b]: So yes I am drowning myself in a pile of wolf cuddles [b]Bondi:[/b] She grabs Orange around the shoulders, hugs her tight like backpack straps, and pulls her backwards into her chest on the couch. Bondi sits with her back pressed against the arm, knees up and legs tight against Orange’s side so she’s hugged from all angles. “I don’t feel bad for her.” Bondi admits. “I feel bad saying it, but I still feel good about hurting her. I just think those kids are always going to grow up thinking how great their mum who never came to their birthday parties was. She’s going to be this perfect thing they can never live up to, because they never got to meet her as adults and realized how awful she was. She’ll never be a person to them, now. I don’t want to take anything back, I just want to fix it.” There’s silence, and a sniffle. Bondi’s vibrating with the effort of trying to say more, and not quite getting there. She lets out a huff as she remembers to breathe for the first time in half a minute. She sounds heartbroken. “I wish I were as smart as you so I knew what to say, but I don’t. I don’t even know what a social weld is, I just know that you have to cancel so many important things to this stuff and you still came to watch old kids movies with me.” She squeezes Orange tight with her entire body, all at once. [b]Crystal:[/b] She chokes back the last of her own sniffles and glares at Red. She was sitting with her fist pressed into her cheek, but now her head rises to the insult. “No. Wrong. What are you doing? Holding tissues out for me? You are not a dispenser.” She takes the box of tissues from Red’s offered hand and drops it on the throne next to her. “There. Your present function has been replaced.” “I will not have my knight degrade herself to mistake fealty with subservience.” She snaps like a drill sergeant, rising from the throne, that raw heat of command. “You are an admirable, capable crisis function perfectly capable of taking your own initiative in such situations. Yes? I know that being truly pro-active is a struggle for you, but I am [i]not[/i] so far gone to not be able to act as a sounding board for you. What are the worst things we could do right now? What mistakes are we making? Your answers, not Black’s.” She is ruined, but she is still in her armor. She will not be a liability. She loves you too much for you to be anything less than what she knows you can be. [b]Dudekov[/b]: A security guard answers the door. This guy’s in his late fifties, military cropped gray hair and that almost-orange skin of truck drivers that fake-tans try to emulate but end up looking like a Cheetoh, that kind that goes deeper than the skin that just can’t be faked. Actually, he looks a lot like Cable from the Marvel comics, just if he’s got cybernetic parts - and he definitely does - they’re not worn so openly. Also, boring suit. It’s a fantastic fit though! That’s how you know it’s secret service. You tailor a silk suit like this properly and you can sprint in it better than trackwear. Cheetoh Cable stares at Pink and yells something in Austrian over his shoulder which - well you’ve got translation software. “[There is a small pink android girl at the door asking for ten minutes of your time.]” “[Solicitor?]” The secret service guy checks Pink over, and does a full weapons pat down. “[No pamphlets. No weapons. She’s clean.]” “[What model android?]” Cheetoh Cable scans pink with a little chip reader from a jacket pocket and frowns. “[Uh. I have not seen this error code before. What do I do?]” “[Would the error code be consistent with a GAI housed in an android template?]” His hand reaches for his service weapon at his breast in a way that would be discrete if it wasn’t for all the surveillance equipment that Everest housed in Pink. “[Yes.]” “Send her in.” Dudekov shouts in English from the study. “[But call the bank. This will be the emissary. There will be more outside, waiting to see how this plays out. Send Rico.]” There’s still a chance to run. Also, what’s Black’s reaction? Otherwise, a large old study with leather, mahogany and a man with a skull face awaits Pink just inside. [b]Anthrozine:[/b] [b]AnthrozineEditorYork[/b]: What’s our take on Squeaky Fromme? [b]AnthrozineEditorYork[/b]: We need one. [b]NumbToNothing[/b]: Fuck her I don’t want to talk about her [b]AnthrozineEditorYork[/b]: No. [b]AnthrozineEditorYork[/b]: Junta’s one of ours. [b]AnthrozineEditorYork[/b]: It’ll mean more coming from us [b]AnthrozineEditorYork[/b]: Two choices. We defend what she did, or we excommunicate her, the mouse was a lone wolf. [b]PerfidiouslyFickle[/b]: Obviously the second one [b]PerfidiouslyFickle[/b]: It’s been ten minutes someone agree with me