RP: Cirrus Station [Episode 4] A Pleasant Dinner

"That's good. I thought I'd go insane at that post out of the sheer monotony of it all." Claire glanced over at Keziah, Her eyes held a small smile in them. "I don't know about me being a level head though. I guess that in comparison I am..." She paused on that thought, frowning a little bit. "Lonely, huh? I'm suprised. I would think that you'd be fairly popular around here. You are rather easy on the eyes." She flashed a smile, to show that she was teasing her. Or was she?

And without missing a beat, she turned to the front of the group. "I hope we're almost there. I didn't think this would be that long of a walk. Not that I'm complaining of course..."

I guess I am attractive.

Still, Claire's words had stoppered up her voice as she thought about it. All she saw when she looked in the mirror were her tattoos, her fake arm, her metal legs. She hadn't seen past that all that in... forever. Always, she had seen herself as the sum of all her mistakes.

Should she be getting hit on more? Aside from the occasional remark from a scientist, or catcalls from the dock jockeys, nobody really approached her in that way.

And... was Claire flirting with her? Subtly?

Mentally, Keziah shook her head.

"I just want real food," she said, longingly. "It better be real food, and not the abominations we get to eat."

"Well...here we are."

Mimi had led them to a large set of wooden doors, hidden away in the upper echelons of the Central Station's administration offices. The doors were quite different from the ones they had passed; very elegant and rich in taste compared to the more modern settings of the rest of Cirrus. Mimi allowed them to pass her before speaking to them one last time.

"Miss Cassefin said that you may all enter when you arrive...but I'm afraid Kess and I were not invited. I expect you all to be on your best behavior! Have a good meal," Mimi said, smiling as she always did, doing a horrible job at hiding the awkward look of concern on her face as her volumetric image faded from view.

---

Upon passing through the two ornate wooden doors, the team was met with quite the sight. The doorway opened to a large living room, laid with with a lush velvety red carpet with matching walls. The entire room gave off a sense of accomplishment and rich taste. To the left was a series of comfortable-looking sofas and chairs set around highly immaculate fireplace which lit most of the dimmed room with a soft glowing orange. The walls beside the relaxation area were lined with bookshelves, crammed with thick novels with the occasional tasteful decor occupying an empty shelf space.

To their right, the larger room opened up to a smaller, more squared room with slightly better lighting, illuminating the three walls of the smaller area. Each wall was a display...the room itself seemed to be some sort of showroom. One wall displayed an impressive amount of commendation medals, plaques, trophies and other knick-knacks of personal success, along with two small framed photographs of an older woman, and what appeared to be a dome-like structure full of dense vegetation.

The other two walls were occupied by, oddly enough, an enormous collection of guns. Rifles, handguns, and the like sat beside older, more archaic projectile weapons, including long-barrel muskets and a few crossbows. All very clean and in pristine condition, accompanied by displays of ammunition types. The sheer mass of the collection was impressive enough.

In the center of the room was a large, meticulously-carved wooden dining table, with just enough seats to cater to the small group. There were many things on the table, but from the distance they were at, they were hard to make out. Near the back of the room were two doors.

Cassefin Montreal, for the moment, was nowhere to be found.

"Oss, Headmaster!" Greeted Dream loudly, stepping in the room. "We're here for this dinner thing of you-"

She stopped and looked around.

"...where is Real?" she wondered, looking around. The trotted towards the showroom and peeked inside. "Playan Hide-and-Seek?"

Lorcan had stopped and waited until the rest of them had caught up and then he'd walked along beside Dream silently, listening to Kez and Clarie talk about Kez being easy on the eyes. Lorcan was hard pressed to keep his stony expression. After a moment reflecting on things Kez was easy on the eyes after all. Lorcan was just being too bullheaded to see it. Of course now that he was thinking about it he knew a sudden change of mood might ring alarm bells so he held back on his actions.

Once they reached the doors Lorcan held one open for Dream, Kez and Claire and then followed them in, leaving the rest of the group to pushed through the door themselves. He took a long look around and listened to his stomach growl. After a minute he followed after Dream and then moved to put his hands on her shoulders and try to pull her away. "Common, Missing or not, if there's food on the table lets eat!" He said softly. "She gave us our dinner, what more can we ask?" He added in a softer tone.

If he'd been speaking loud enough for anyone else to overhear Lorcan was sure they'd get confused. Lorcan was supposed to be angry, tough, bloodthirsty... but no, for Dream and even Kez, Claire, Tweak and any other females with them, he'd lower his voice and change his tone. Loyalty played into this, loyalty and nature. He knew possibly nobody else would understand but even on his level, keeping the girls happy and healthy was just above his testosterone driven need for bloodshed.

"Come on..." He said, his voice dropping and entire octave, sounding like a grumble to anyone other than Dream. He turned and headed for the table, his mind turning things over. Stova was going quickly from macho to outcast, something Lorcan would probably have to end up righting. Kez and Claire were probably going to end up being his shrinks if he could get them alone somewhere... and Dream was going to need a personal cheer leader of sorts, maybe cirrius could teach an old dog new tricks...

Stovaa stood in the doorway, in awe of the room. He expected the administrators room to be nice, but this took the biscuit, the cake and the mickey. He mused for a second, wondering where she was.

"Don't touch anything, guys and girls. Miss Cassefin could well be sat in a hidden room watching us over secret cameras or something" he paused for a second, trying to grasp a thought. "Or she could be taking a shower. Either way, I don't wanna get caught going through her underwear drawer, so I'm voting we sit tight until she shows up."

As soon as he'd said it, he regretted it in the pit of his stomach. One of those feelings like she was stood behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure she wasn't there.

Deacon watched Tweak and George leave the barracks area and just stared at the closed door, watching as other security teams would come and go. After a few minutes, he would lick his lips and sigh softly, setting his flute back into the box, put the box into his pack, and then did something that he wasn't sure what anyone would think about, he took off his SMoDIN uniform, and redressed in his Kohanian Yaree garb.

As he slipped into the tanned and black dyed leather pants, and put the necklace of bone and teeth from the Mokoi he had slain on his home planet on his bare chest, he began to smile. Then he put his longsword in it's scabbard, and slung that over his back. After taking a look in the mirror to make sure it was all as it should be, the Kohanian turned and began to jog after his two team mates, to join the dinner with the Administrator in clothing and style that showed he was proud of who, and what, he was.

Tweak allowed herself a sigh as she left earshot of the barracks while George was talking with Deacon. It surprised her when she had realized she was talking so openly to someone...the "disappear" feeling she got when in groups just wasn't there when she talked to someone one-on-one like that (or two-on-one, but George had been pretty quiet).

Slowed her pace, she ran her hand along the right-side wall of the corridor as she walked for no particular reason, feeling the slight tingle of the energy conduits and other electronics behind the panels. She was still a little conflicted over joining the group for the dinner. Why did she hate being in groups so much? Was it because she was the only neko in a place that hated that species? Or something else? Tweak nearly closed her eyes, but heard quick steps behind her as George neared.

If he passed her, then she would say nothing. If he walked beside or behind her though...he would get a questioning look.

Keziah ducked into the room, smiling briefly, appreciatively at Lorcan as she took several steps inside, her eyes wandering across the whole expanse.

So much pomp. So much wonderfully expensive things all slammed together to do... what? Impress Cassefin herself? It spoke of an immense kind of ego that their Administrator definitely possessed.

She couldn't help but feel dwarfed by the room, by the power it bared before everyone. And she hated that, because these were all things that were, ultimately, useless. Decorations that didn't even serve any purpose beyond stoking Cassefin's self worth.

It reminded her of the recreation floor of nanomachines. Instinctively, she shifted her eyes to infrared and scanned everything, looking for the steady heat of the tiny robots. Not that she expected to find them, but she wouldn't have been surprised to have found them.

"I'd hate living like this," she said unconsciously, her eyes shifting back to normal light. She didn't seem to know that she had spoken at all.

Claire gave Lorcan a nod as she walked inside, "Thanks, dear." As her eyes adjusted to the abrupt change in atmosphere, a look of suprise overcame her. "Wow... Either the Administrator is really rich or really gracious. Or she has a hubris larger than half the station." She didn't have to say that she thought it may be the last one. It was just one of those unspoken things.

Claire walked up next to Keziah, "Why's that? I mean, yeah... it's a bit too spiffy for my tastes..." She shook her head. "Though I suppose I'd have to agree with you to some degree. 'lifestyles of the rich and famous' isn't my thing, really." She smirked, "Besides, all the fun to be had is with the rest of us. That's where everything interesting happens, no?" She didn't seem to notice she had gone off topic.

For a brief moment she was startled by Claire's words, but hid it well enough as one corner of her mouth curled up into a crooked smile. She kept it as the other woman spoke, her eyebrows raised slightly as she thought about everything for a few brief moments.

"Everything beautiful and vile happens everywhere with people." She shrugged slightly and turned to face Claire, her head tilted to one side. "Doesn't matter how much money they have, they're all the same inside."

And, again, she slipped. In a fleeting instant her self-control had loosened, and her eyes held that sad, wounded look to them that was so out-of-place with everything else about her.

Then it was gone as she shifted slightly, righting her head. "It's not so much that it's so expensive. It's that it's so... needless."

George slowed down when he caught up with Tweak, flashing her a small smile at her questioning look. "Uh...good guy there, that's fella, yeah?" George said, awkwardly trying to ease the situation with conversation. "Hope he sticks around, 'case we see any more of them nekos, yeah?" The Nepleslian laughed shortly as the two of them trailed their way back to the rest of the group, and it wasn't long before both of them heard Deacon's padded footsteps sounding off behind them. George greeted the Kohanian with the same sly little smirk.

"Speak a' the devil! Guess you're hungry after all, slim? We better hurry if we don't wanna get last pickin's!"

---

Keziah's eyes would see no signs of nanomanipulation in the room; all of the decor was authentic.

As a few of the CSS members drew closer to the table in the center of the massive room, the contents on the table became clear. Not surprisingly, the china and silverware matched the rich taste of the rest of the room; elegant, lavishly decorated porcelain plates and bowls, pristine eating utensils that shone like stars in the dim lights playing across the room, and crystal-clear wine glasses (filled with water, of course) with nary a smudge on any of them all fixed perfectly atop lavish red silken mats. The table itself was lit up with an occasional candle.

The table itself was occupied by, surprisingly, some very appealing food. Two large bowls of murky soup, numerous trays of appetizing bread, and (not too surprisingly) enough salad bowls around the table to appease a planet of rabbits. In the center of the table was a silver platter with five large hamburgers, slightly steaming between their sesame-seed buns.

It wasn't before long that one of the doors at the rear of the room opened. As if on que, a soft piano melody wafted through the room as Head Administrator Cassefin Montreal emerged, head held high and a proud smile across her face. She was wearing a very elegant, yet also slightly conservative ballroom dress, a deep red to match the rest of her quarters and accompanied with spots of white lace trailing the blouse and hems of the outfit. Her hair was also fixed, done up in an elaborate fiery red bun. Miss Montreal was, apparently, dressing to impress. The outfit however, although very nice, also seemed to be somewhat of a farce given Cassefin's well-known personality and the musical accompaniment. Still...at least she wasn't growling.

"Ah, good evening," Cassefin said in an abnormally calm demeanor. "How are you all tonight?"

Not quite understanding why George was walking next to her instead of going on ahead, Tweak just shrugged at his first question since the second question sounded rhetorical.

"I think so," was all she said, falling silent and watching the floor as her hand dropped off the wall and stayed at her side. When Deacon caught up to them, she just glanced back at him and gave a small smile to show that she was at least glad to see he wasn't leaving...then she noticed what he was wearing and the smile cycled through amusement, then satisfaction.

She didn't know anything about Kohanians, but since Deacon's clothing (and partial lack of) obviously wasn't Nepleslian standard wear and the only reason he would be dressed like that to a formal function would be either to embarrass and make light of Montreal's dinner (which seemed unlikely, given the hyena's sense of honor) or because that _was_ formal wear in his native culture. Tweak decided it was the latter, that Deacon was showing "species pride", in his way...and her smile remained, but seemed a little melancholy as she returned her gaze forward. Was she the only one hiding who she was?

Just how necessary was her secret, anyway?

Claire looked at Keziah with a small amount of concern in her eyes. "I... see." She brightened a little bit, "Well, I don't think you're the same on the inside!" She paused then giggled a little bit, "Or the outside for that matter..." Again with the slightly suggestive wording. Was she always like this?

"You seem very nice. I think that you've got a good heart in there." Claire's expression softened. "I don't know too many bad people who are that friendly to strangers they should probably be suspicious of." She was refferring to something else this time. The last mission perhaps?

------------------------------------------------

As Cassefin walked into the room, Claire's eyebrows raised. When greeted along with everyone else, she smiled widely. "Getting better. I love your dress, dear. It suits you perfectly. Wish I had something like that." Whether she was being serious or just trying to occupy her so the rest of the squad didn't have to was unclear. Though if one really thought about it, the third sentence could be read as a small bit of mockery. Her tone likely hid that too well though if that was her intention.

"Not what I'd normally expect at a dinner, but it's much nicer than anything we had planetside. Military rations aren't that appetizing, you know?" As Claire glanced over the food, she seemed to be trying to figure something out, but what that may be was something she wasn't letting on.

"Seems a pretty good choice of food for a dinner, if you ask me" Stovaa said. Not that anyone had asked him, or that anyone would, but he felt like joining in regardless.

His eyes ran Cassefin up and down, trying to mesh this with the camp gossip and what he'd seen or heard on TV. It didn't quite match up.
He saluted out of reflex before speaking. "Feeling pretty good, ma'am. When you say 'formal', you really mean it, huh."

He brushed something away from his shirt with a backhand stroke, possibly a speck of dust or strand of fur, glancing around to note the reactions of everyone else to Cassefin's attire, wondering if he'd heard wrong. Maybe she was always this calm and well turned out.

Without a sound, other than that of his blunt toeclaws ticking off the fine flooring, Deacon slipped in behind the rest of his squad and took in the surroundings. They were lavish, but strangely just as he had expected them to be. After mouthing a silent, 'wow', he looked in the direction of everyone else, and was able to make out the form of someone in a fine ballgown.

Oh, you've got to be kidding me, that is Administrator Real? Goodness she cleans up well. And obviously she has some servants at her beck and call, since there is no way that she could have set this all up with her broken arm and combat fatigue... He thought to himself, watching her float into the room as if a cloud was under her butt.

Moving around a little, he was able to get out from behind the taller members of his team, and at that point gave a respectful bow to his superior, the beads and bones of his necklace ticking and jingling together softly.

"And a fine evening to you as well, Ma'am. I trust that it is finding you well, and you are recovering well from your unfortunate accident." He remarked with a toothy grin.

Why am I being so nice to her?

But the thought dissipated as soon as it appeared. Claire wasn't in league with the slavers. Not even in the slightest. It took a carelessness, a social recklessness, that the woman completely lacked. No, Keziah would be able to find a slaver in a crowd.

Claire was completely, perfectly innocent of that.

Cassefin's voice broke her from her reverie, but unlike a few of the others, she slid away from their Administrator, instead pretending to be particularly taken by a book that was, apparently, a historical recount of Nepleslia, centuries ago. She hefted the rather large novel, and flipped randomly to a place in it, and set herself to reading it as if she had always been doing so.

Serra was plainly ignoring Cassifin, debutanting to the lower class was something teenagers did when their parents wanted to marry them off for money, power or favors. It didn't suit someone as reclusive and paranoid as Montreal. In fact, being a highborne herself, Serra could see, hear and smell the fake upperclassness of Cassifin's act. It plain out sickened her.

But, to Serra, an Elysian patriarch. A being considered the closest thing to perfection from the Seven gods of the Holy Empire Elysia. The mere fact the grand feast was a single hamburger and a salad made her so insulted she felt ready to slap Cassifin and demand a duel to reclaim her lost prestige and honor for even laying sight on such an abysmal display.

"Oh, hi Real!" Dream waved to her not-very-formally while sitting down. "All this is... interesting. Nice combo of colors you've got around here."

Like she was one to talk. She opened her mouth, evidently about to say something else, but then her attention was captivated by the strange, exotic foods on the table. She poked a hamburger with her finger repeatedly.

"Oh ho ho ho ho ho!" Cassefin laughed haughtily as they all greeted her, holding the back of her hand close to her mouth, furthering the uncharacteristic glamor of her whole attire. When she was finished, she flashed them all a smile, surveying their expressions as she spoke. "Yes, yes, I know, you all must be famished from-"

The Head Administrator stopped mid-sentence as she looked at her guests. Her eyes trailed from each face in the room...then, apparently not satisfied, once more she scanned the small crowd. The welcoming smile slowly melted into a furrowed brow. "...where's Captain Abeck?"

Almost immediately, a voice wafted into the room from the very walls...or rather, a Savtech's voice sounded out through the rooms (very softspoken) speakers. It was a familiar voice...Kess' voice. "Guard Captain Winston just informed me that he's feeling ill and has taken the nightshift off. He also apologizes; he won't be able to make your dinner."

Silence for a few golden moments...and then came Cassefin's guttural roar of disapproval.

"...fffffffFFFFFFFFFRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!

The first part of Cassefin's prolonged scream was spent wrenching a pair of fashionable high-heels out from below the hem of her dress, which ended up sailing across the room into the sitting area with two light thud. The second part was spent stomping her way towards the head seat of the table, and ultimately ended as she quickly undid the intricate hairbun and let her hair spill back out before wrapping it back up into her typical ponytail. When all was said and done, she groaned a sigh and grabbed a whole bowl of salad, placing it in her lap.