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RP: Lazarus [Lazarus] Made For Walking

With Sana in the lead again, Miles was left in a position where he could really pay more mind to his environment over figuring out which way he was supposed to be going, that, and he could ditch his rather silly costume. What he saw as he walked along was something he had known of in his own life quite well, and perhaps even to a greater extent. Unlike many Nepleslians, he was a college graduate, and his education came at a Nepleslian university. Students operating businesses out of dorms was common practice, though, where he was from the businesses usually involved merchandise which would result in an arrest in most civilized star systems. Such a recollection brought a fond nostalgic memory to Miles, as he thought back to the faint scent of chemicals cooking over a hotplate, a scent which only was safe through a respiration mask.

What Miles knew though, as he looked upon the way the building was lived in, and even the apparent age of the building, was the fact that the environment he was in was something of a necessity over merely being a preference. With the evacuation of most of the Matriarchy's assets to the Nyli system over the last few years, the Lor system had received the short end of funding and attention, with most efforts being placed upon maintaining cultural heritage sites and government assets, and with little funding being allocated to minor concerns such as keeping up a college dormitory. Though, what Miles knew, and likely, what the Matriarchy knew, was that such a place being so 'lived in', was a welcome feeling to long time residents, and with how well motivated the Lorath were, a little bit of upkeep being set upon the students and the staff on hand was likely quite welcome, for the sake of making the place feel like a home, instead of an institution.

Though, the welcoming feeling of a home seemed to halt abruptly as he reached the door of 701A, as his gaze went to the sign upon the door. His optic put an overlay of a translation over the original text, telling him exactly what it said, and it produced a light frown. What he hoped, was that the time aboard Ondine would have done some good in regard to getting him into Aiesu's graces, enough to at least prevent her from having a meltdown over a mere knock. None the less, Miles gave Sana a nudge. "You knock, it could be booby trapped, and you're the one with the armored endoskeletal chassis." With that, Miles stood a little distance away from the door, waiting to see what the outcome of their appearance at Aiesu's doorstep would be.
 
Carefully, Sana stepped before Miles. The precaution was a bit much but if she had to, Sana could use her body to shield him from the blast. Carefully, she withdrew her hand from the pocket of her jacket and wrapped her knuckle against one of the panels of the door just three times.
 
"Lousy stupid goddamn who does she think she is, leaving me here and then forgetting her stupid key- I'm not your damn housemaid!-and then she expects me to let her back in immediately after-" rambled a feminine voice in Yamataian-tinged Lorath beyond the door. A shuffling sound and a trip, followed by more shuffling was heard before a bolt, a second bolt, and a third bolt being unlocked from the door. Finally, the door opened just enough for a grey-haired girl with a tank-top on to poke her head through, bleary eyed.

"You jer- oh. . . er. . . sorry. Thought you were somebody else," she mumbled, casting her eyes downwards. "You trying to buy a program or something?"

While Sana was the one to originally knock, Miles was the one to speak up, considering there was no 'Pain of Death' as promised by the scroll hung upon the exterior of the door. As he stepped around Sana, he peered at the person who opened it, and was easily able to determine a nationality, and it left him quite curious. He had heard from Aiesu that she had a room mate, he just did not know that it was a Yamataian, it was certainly quite out of the ordinary.

"No thanks on the programs. We're here to meet with Aiesu, she was expecting our arrival." Miles stated, as he kept it rather brief, since it was a matter of patient confidentiality. "Is she in at the moment?"

Some Yamataian cartoon's noise drifted in through the opened door, apparently returning from some relatively quiet commercial. The girl turned her head back and sighed, then opened the door fully to invite the duo in. She wore sweatpants on her bottom half that were previously hidden by the wooden obstruction.

"N-no. She's not around. You're not one of the people from the company, are you? Cuz I'm not the right one to handle that stuff anyways." The girl sniffled. "Come on in, anyways. Just be sure not to touch. . . pretty much anything aside from the chairs."

Upon the door being opened wide, and the welcoming gesture, Miles gave Sana a nod before leading the way into the dormatory apartment. As he stepped inside, the sounds from the media broadcast caught his ear, and that, combined with the nationality of who he was speaking to, led him to switch from his native 'Trade' dialect, to proper Yamataian. "No, this is not a corporate matter, just a consultation." Miles explained, keeping to the vague nature of his arrival out of respect for Aiesu. As he looked around, his cybernetic eye took in everything, making a detailed recording of the room, as he also took to taking a detailed look at... hm, that was a pickle, one he responded to with a traditional Yamataian bow before speaking; "I should handle introductions; My name is Doctor Gunn, my associate here is Sana... and you are?"

The construct wandered over to the nest bed, about to dive right back into the pile of blankets and pillows she was resting in prior, but the remembered that was probably a silly idea with guests around. So, she sat on top instead. "Oh, I'm Seire-, er. . . Seira Isbala. I get the feeling I've heard your name around before. . ."

"Doubtful." Miles spoke, with a smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. As his optic went over Seira, he could tell a thing or two, and knowing Aiesu well enough, he had already pegged the matter. He was just not going to be an assclown and point it out flagrantly, as he decided to remain casual... but not look like a pushover either; "Speaking of names, 'Isbala' is not exactly a Yamataian name."

"My parents are originally from pre-Yamatai dwellings. before the Empire even existed and all that - And I'm not that young!" The girl pouted slightly, rolling into the pile of softness to adjust it to her body shape. It wasn't that hard, considering there was the hole inside that she occupied prior. In a low voice, she added, "And technically speaking, I'm enrolled as a Nepleslian exchange student. Cuz of the moon thing."

"Mmm... sorry to bring it up." Miles spoke, and it was not out of some sort of dismissal, or some sort of glib mockery of regret. As a Nepleslian, it was a genuine statement, to live as an organic before the establishment of the Empire, was to live a dangerous life. That, and the matter of the moon impact on Lor, it was hardly like their discussion was touching on anything good for conversation. "Any idea when Aiesu will be back?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. We. . . just had an argument. Long story. Well, not REALLY a long story, but I don't really want to talk about it. I apparently alliterate when I get angry," Seira sighed. His eyes drifted over to Sana, and then back to Miles. "I still feel like I've heard your name somewhere, and not because it's a homophone either. Anyways, she your assistant or something?"

"Dangerous, daring, and dubious, delving into designations." Miles spoke, lightly mocking Seira on the mattered of the continued prying regarding his name. If it were not a matter of their host being an associate of Aiesu's, Miles was fairly sure he would have handled the continued inqueries with a response from a sidearm... but, that was just the Nepleslian manners talking. "As for her, she's my fiance, and assistant." he explained, before hooking his thumbs in the beltloops of his slacks, as he looked around the dorm room.

"Assistant and Fiance? Promiscuous." Seira responded with complete and utter nonchalance, making it clear she actualy didn't care about the odd nature of that relationship.

"You know... traditionally, in Nepleslian, Yamataian, and Lorath cultures... even Helashio culture, it is customary to offer refreshment to guests upon arrival," the doctor spoke, making it clear he was not wanting to indulge the matter of identities.

But on the subject of food, she winced. "Well, I would LOVE to offer you something, but that's kind of what the argument was about. Go ahead and look in the cabinets."

"Well, some water would even be nice. It is a bit of a walk to get around this dormatory building, and a cool drink would do a person some good." Miles replied, as he took the invitation to browse the cabinets none the less. After all, it was a distinctive upgrade from 'Don't touch anything except for the chairs', which was immediately imposed upon arrival. "Oh hey, nutrient powder, awesome." Miles spoke, sounding somewhat enthused on the matter. Sure, it was not steak and potatoes, or even a delicious burger, but he knew well enough that there was an appetite suppressant in the mix that would keep his nagging hunger at bay, a hunger that had been persisting since arriving on Lor and dealing with 'Man Sized' portions.

"Don't even get me started on that stuff. Oooh, she's gotten me so. . . argh, not worth getting this mad over, not worth it. . ." She mumbled to herself, turning her attention to the TV once more. It was an episode of Kamen Sentai Nekorangers, yet another typical one where Sami is the object of everybody's affections. And then, it dawned on her.

"Miyamoto Minoru. . ." The construct said, watching the animated character's white hair sway in the animated breeze. Animatedly. "Waaaaaaait just a darn minute. . . You wouldn't happen to be THE Miles Gunn, would you? Like, of Sakura fame?"

It was a casual response for a Nepleslian, as Miles set down the powdered meal, and reached to his hip before producing a civilian model of a Yamataian NSP, which let out a rather ominous whine indicating that the capacitor inside was primed for something distinctively more noteworthy than a measley little scalar stun, though, he did not aim it at his host, but instead, set it on the kitchen countertop alongside the powdered nutritional suppliment. There were no words to be spoken though, not at that moment, as Miles eyed the construct until that fragile moment passed as he thumbed the safety on the NSP and cut straight to the chase; "Puppet, I'd not hesitate to put Aiesu through the work of making another of you if you go and keep spouting off like that. It ain't healthy, for either of us."

"Well then, you figured that out quickly. What gave me away, the fact that she's so damn stubborn that she had to MANUFACTURE a roommate?" She sighed, meeting Miles's eyes with a glare."And that gun doesn't scare me one bit. I've beaten crazy jelly-women scarier than you, and all I had was a bar."

She neglected to mention the fact that it was an alcohol-serving bar with a cryo tube running to it for temperature reasons, not a metal bar for beating the everloving crap out of people with.

"Were you really rejected that many times by Hanako, or was that a dramatization by the show?"

"Biometric readings were the give-away, I knew from the moment I saw you." Miles spoke, as his lips pressed into a distinctive frown of being rather displeased with the situation. Of course Aiesu had to have a puppet for a room mate, and really, that somehow defeated the whole point she had made back at Ondine that she had begun to socialize... it was just another one of her dollhouse games. "And the show has it wrong, I tapped that." Miles stated honestly, before he raised his NSP and leveled it at Seira "Alright, so, are you a good doll or a bad doll? Because really, I don't want to put up with someone who is going to go spouting off that I'm here, and it'll just lead to trouble for everyone, including Aiesu."

"Ah, please, don't get your cross-dressing panties in a bunch. I don't go babbling about this kinda stuff. I'm just naturally curious." Seira mumbled, flicking off the TV. "Just because somebody knows things doesn't mean they'll TELL. All I am is technically a robot, so this me doesn't really matter in the larger scheme of things. There's another me, of course, fighting the good fight. And probably yet another, provided this me isn't what my contract is for, who is fighting so the other stays ahead of the bad guys."

She rolled off of the pile, navigating the messy floor nimbly to walk over to the fridge and retrieve a glass from the freezer.

"Good guys don't tell secrets that'll hurt their friends, says Phoenix Man."

"Sideburns don't lie." Miles replied, before he flipped the safety on the NSP back onto safe-mode, as the capacitor in the pistol discharged back into the battery pack. "You know, you should take a hint from someone aside from Aiesu, discretion in behavior is very important in regard to social relations. She may not be the best person to learn those kinds of things from. You don't tell a man who has a bounty on his head that he seems familar somehow, and more so, you don't just blurt it out."

"We're in a private setting that is guaranteed not to have bugs. I'll say what I please," She told him, pouring water into the icy glass. "'Sides, you expect somebody as scrawny as me to troll Bounty boards? Get real."

"You're a robot, your point is moot. You are a bug, and you don't say what you please you say what pleases your program, and your power-to-mass ratio is likely kin to a small civilian ground transport." Miles replied, as he seemed entirely unimpressed.

"Robot programmed entirely by Aiesu. Sorta. Definitely designed entirely by her. My mind is almost entirely mine, save for some extra knowledge she added. I still think exactly the way I did before my imprinting, but a little more domestic. I've got less of a wanderlust, at least. But that's probably because I spend most of my time watching cartoons."

She handed the chilly glass to Miles, making a 'seriously' look.

"I say what I please. End of story."

"I'd like to see you pull that with Aiesu around." Miles replied, as he took the glass from Seira and gave a nod and spoke "Thank you" before he went about mixing in some of the powdered nutritional suppliment into the glass. Not much really, just enough to take the edge off his glucose depravation. "You know though, it feels a lot like I'm dealing with some sort of butler-maid, instead of Aiesu's roomie at this point."

"You have no idea. Sometimes, it feels like it."
 
A knock sounded at the door followed by a casual announcement.

"I'm coming in."

As the door slid open, a single cerise be speckled eye picked up on Miles and then Sana's presence and held itself there, half hidden behind the door-way - tipping its head to hide beneath a messy silvery mane. Accusingly, she glanced in Seiren's direction before sliding through the door -- back to those around her -- reaching up to the tips of her toes to slip all five of the separate locks and chains.

She turned about, dumping the two shopping bags at Seiren's feet and then the messenger bag off her shoulder into his lap before planting herself firmly in the chair at her desk she began typing -- reaching out to run her fingers through the fur and seemingly the hair of a small white figure on her desk sleeping next to her main monitor.

Her free hand reached for a slim silvery hairband - the other withdrawing from her companion as she adjusted and fluffed up her hair to hide it.

Miles would be the only one with the intuition to make the link between it and its chunky predecessor sat at her second desk, still being put back together from her experience on Ondine -- as if half of herself had been missing until that very moment.

It was only when the machine started synchronising that her shoulders drooped and she breathed a sigh of relief - leaning back into her chair.

"Seiren. Dinner." Aiesu said.

"Rude" Sana replied, clearing her throat, feeling some sympathy for Seiren.
"I liked you better as a vegitable…"
 
From the moment Aiesu stepped in, Miles' gaze followed her as she made her nearly wordless stride from the door to her workstation. He certainly knew what she was up to, and could tell without a doubt that there was much nagging at her mind, mostly, things outside and things she longed to get to, and he knew that to interrupt her in the physical world was just going to be impossible until she satisfied the portion of her brain responsible for rewarding her undeniable addiction to living her external life.

"A vegetable? Maybe, but I thought of her more like a potato. Potatoes keep growing after they're harvested you know." Miles spoke with his ever so cunning Nepleslian insight as he looked to Sana with a light frown, a frown that said; 'This is going to be difficult'.

It was worse than dealing with a Yamataian youth, or a Nepleslian teenager, it was a matter of cutting through the digital barrier which was present, to simply earn the few moments needed for interaction, when it was clear that she was choosing not to invest her time into what she undoubtedly considered an unwelcome presence. Miles took a few moments before he would push the issue. He had to wait for synchronization processes, buffer checks, simulated biological function linkage, and a score of other processes... and, Aiesu's own need for easing back into her world. None the less, Miles knew he had to push the issue.

It was not long before a message appeared in Aiesu's message inbox;

Code: 
Sender: Doctor Gunn / Wildharpsurgeon
To: AK / causticLucidity
Subject: Medical Consultation.

Good evening,

Sorry if I am catching you at a bad time, though, I wanted to let you know that your room mate is not exactly good at adhering to your entry policies regarding your dorm room. 'Pain of Death' was not exactly enacted.

Also, I was wanting to perhaps schedule one to two hours this evening to conduct a dialog regarding my visit here on Lor to conduct our consultation regarding your prosthesis. We could consume the food that you brought home, or, we could go to a restaurant your father recommended. 

We could handle it that way, or, I could just remove your legs while you sit there at your workstation, and go about installing a new pair to surprise you with when you get up for your scheduled hydration break. I personally prefer to do it in a civilized way, with some social grace, and after discussing your case over a proper meal.

-Wildharpsurgeon

PS: Your nutritional supplement powder is pretty good.

PPS: Sending a construct of yourself is acceptable for the initial dialog process.

With the message sent, Miles let out a sigh as he rubbed his chin and thought on the dialog which transpired between him and Aiesu over secured chat while he was on Ondine, and she was on Lor. He did have quite the agenda to take care of while he was on-world. New legs, psychological treatment, conspiracy investigation, determining the viability of his long-term plans, and checking up on side projects. One of those projects, included checking in on an old friend of Rebeka's. There was certainly much to do, and inwardly, he hated the fact that he had to wait on Aiesu's compulsion to be two places at once. He really had to try to push for her to just get a neural interface implant; one which would allow her to interface with her constructs on the go.
 
Slowly, she swung about in her chair, spinning about before setting her artificial feet down to skid against the laminate flooring, elbows on her knees as she leant forward.

Eyeing Seiren, he’d find the ingredients to make the cake he’d been boasting about for the last week along with… What would appear to be some sort of sweets… Some packets of various powders, a few bottles of a substance remembering milk in a pale blue colour, some duqcloss, a bag of duqs and some other vegetables of various shape and colour.

There was some relief as she watched him starting to fish through the particular bag of goodies before glancing back up in Miles’ direction, though her eyes were low and didn’t quite seem to meet his.
“Y-You’re early, aren’t you?” she said distastefully, mumbling.

The apartment was still something of a mess: various volumetric littered and unorganised hanging about the ceiling, turning many of the walls into some vast multi-layered whiteboard. In the daylight, the projections weren’t of the best quality, having a paler washed out quality to them that made her setup, cabinets of borrowed and stolen server racks churning and whirring much less unimpressive. They spat out heat, which had nowhere to go: The room was uncomfortably warm; Nepleslian venetian blinds closed and the air stuffy — a fan with a few lengths of short ribbon tied into its covering buzzing next to her.

Dotted about her desk were various tools and implements. While she was a doctor, it seemed she was also something of a tinkerer, with a drawer aside her computer full of parts and a wide external drive above it.

Atop the drive slept something not entirely resembling a dog, a cat or a rabbit, though closest to the cat in size. The thing laid out onto its back, baring its belly with a look of satisfaction.

She tightened her tie, a trickle of sweat running down her neck, the dark shadows beneath her eyes more prominent than Miles would remember. Her hands trembled, just barely. She couldn’t look them in the eye for some reason.

Miles, especially.

“Well?”
 
Something was quite clear to Miles, distinctively apparent; the Aiesu he was looking at, the Aiesu that seemed so withdrawn, was certainly nowhere near the same as she was aboard Ondine, and it left him feeling a touch of uncertainty about the process ahead. When he spoke to her last, she had enough confidence, enough certainty, to where he knew he would be able to work with her. Though, as she spoke to him, and could not even look at him, he knew that the confidence was nowhere to be found, and that would be the biggest obstacle ahead of him.

"I'm not early at all, since we never set an exact time." Miles explained, as a light smile graced his lips as he looked to Aiesu with a gaze that was reserved for a a teacher-and-student, or a doctor-and-patient. "Since I'm here though, we should not worry about that, should we?" He spoke in an upbeat tone, trying to put some positive energy into the interaction.

Miles decided though, at that moment, he was going to have to apply a little bit of pressure to push things along; "Let's go eat out. We'll talk about what is on our agenda for your treatment, and from there, we'll figure out just what we're doing." At that point, Miles knew he had to add one more thing; "We'll stop somewhere to pick up some ingredients for the food we'll be having at the Lmanel place I have in mind. We'll get you some sep'ki and some meat of your choosing." what Miles spoke of in regard to sep'ki, was a variety of Lorath vegetable, kin to a cabbage, which brimmed with alkaloids which undoubtedly would help Aiesu's mood by providing a stimulant effect along with euphoria and no doubt, an illusion of confidence.

He just hoped she would go for such a solution to her moment of distinctive introversion.
 
"B-But…" Aiesu struggled, pointing toward Seiren. "I um. I promised him…" she said, eyeing the bag again and the idiot sat on her bed-pit. She took the glass of nutrient supplement and took a small sip, mulling it in her mouth for a few moments before swallowing.

"Look, you're coming out with us whether you like it or not" Sana pushed her way in front of Miles, smiling in a way that made Aiesu visibly irk, sinking in her chair. "You'll change your tone after a few drinks… A nice meal or two…"

"A nice meal…" Aiesu said eyeing the door with a sense of discomfort. She tried to make the best of it: her first eye-contact with Miles. "Um.. sep'ki… Would be nice" she murmured, starting to smile for the first time since they'd arrived, almost whispering.

Where had the brash high and mighty behaviour gone?

Was this all she was?

"Miss Seira, would you care to join us?" Sana smiled, beaming. Something about this woman struck Seiren as familiar but he couldn't put his finger on it.

"A double-date. Our treat~"

"D…D…" Aiesu stammered, spitting out a mouthful of the grey milkshake, all over the floor.

Sana just grinned, ear to ear, settling an arm about Miles' neck.
 
Miles smiled, and smiled wide, he did find a distinctive pleasure in being reminded of the many reasons why he loved Sana, and also, why he loved to bring her along in his endeavors. It was like a 'Good cop, Bad cop' routine, however, in this case, 'Bad cop' was replaced by 'Brash cop', perhaps there was something to be said for having the inability to look back with regret upon an action, to not even remember saying a thing, it was truly an enabling feature of Sana's mind. Even as Aiesu sent the thick liquid beverage sputtering upon her floor, Miles felt a loving appreciation of his woman.

As Miles put his arm around Sana's waist to hold her close he spoke, "She's right, we can make it a group thing. Communal eating with social pairs is a common behavior among Lmanel." Of course, what went unspoken by Miles was the fact that both the critter on Aiesu's desk, and unbeknownst to Miles, the much larger and dangerous critter living somewhere within the depths of Ondine, enjoyed consuming food as a group, in fact, it was one of the few traits shared by the two.

"Don't worry, it'll be a casual affair, just basic Lmanel dining formalities, as for the meal itself, we'll feast, and just enjoy ourselves while talking about the subjects we're most comfortable with." Miles assured Aiesu, as he wore a smile that matched that of Sana's. "We can head out as soon as the two of you are ready."
 
Seiren's semblance of a better mood dropped when Aiesu returned.

"I'm still mad at- ah, screw it. I'm too hungry to be mad. . ." He grumbled, faltering in his resolve. Aiesu irritated him sometimes, to be sure, but he really couldn't stay mad for long, considering his roommate's unstable nature. Seiren ran about, organizing the few supplies into cupboards that weren't taken up by that weird powder or ramen.

Plus, Miles was now offering food.

"Can't turn down a free meal!" The construct cheerfully picked up. He had almost forgotten to keep his little. . . charade up with Sana when she mentioned his female alias again. Something was odd about her, but Seiren couldn't quite place his finger on it.

"I can make cake later."
 
Aiesu eyed Seiren, then Miles again.

The nutritional supplement was covering her mouth and dripped down her front, over her thighs, slippery white and sticky. Beneath it, she looked pathetic like a cat caught in the rain, wiping it from her cheek. Glancing at Seiren's mirror, she could see herself and images soon came to mind: her glasses half covered.

"Pwuh" she said, coughing some of the stuff up.

Sana was in stitches, silently - desperately trying not to burst at her seams.

"I'll… I'll get changed."
 
"Then it's settled, we're heading out." Miles spoke, quite sure of the matter, as he grinned to Sana, and gave her a pat on the bottom. "Be a dear and call us a cab, we're going to need one suitable for a grocery run."


Evening light bathed the campus, and tinted it a fuzzy orange hue, the sort of orange that belonged on a ripened apricot, or within the confines of a cocktail glass filled with orange juice, tequila, and grenadine. As the evening hours grasped the cityscape, students came and went at a steady flow to and from the campus, as cabs lined the curb along the roadside walkway nearest to the dormitory. Even with an automotive industry that was easily able to provide enough vehicles for everyone to ride, there was still a large population that deemed owning a vehicle full time as unnecessary, preferring to walk usually, or to take cab when the destination was simply out of walking distance.

Once the Lazarus affiliated group boarded their taxi, which was reminiscent of a Nepleslian 'Sports Utility Vehicle', the driver requested their destination... though, the request came upon a binary tone, as a screen in the passenger compartment displayed the text to the speech, along with an interface to put in map directions. Some who were unaware of the world beyond Lor would assume the taxi was automated, but it was nothing of the sort, the driver bared a metallic face which was adorned with a large glowing red mono-eye, perched above a black screen which glowed a neon green with a simple curved line marking a pleasant smile. Their driver was a Freespacer Automata.

With well placed keystrokes, Miles put in the destination he had in mind of where to pick up groceries, followed by a secondary way-point which was the restaurant which was their final destination. As soon as he keyed in the information, the taxi pulled away from the curb, and took to the roadway. It was one of the few motorways which the Matriarchy had strategically installed within their city. It was almost like a spider-web, placing roadways in optimal locations to allow for people to get to a general location, where they could then disembark from their vehicle, and take a far more complex series of walkways and paths through the city on foot.

As the taxi traveled, a distinctive feature of the city was easily able to be noticed upon watching through the passenger windows; each section of the city which was carved into by the roads, making distinctive zones of development, differed and seemed to stand out as if distinguishing themselves from neighboring developments, what served as the main distinguishing feature were architectural features which loaned to either Fyunnen, Lmanel, New Tur'listian, or mixed influences which often indicated a government facility of some sort, or a gathering place for trade, commerce, or other social gathering which took place between the social Houses of the Lorath.

Eventually, the taxi pulled into a distinctively Lmanel portion of the city, with buildings that were painted in subtle earth-tones, with architecture that was nearly organic in nature, with wood used where it could be applied, and structures being unimposing in the slightest. Once the taxi reached a short building, with large open doors that revealed nearly the full interior of the lobby floor, Miles stepped out of the taxi to go about his grocery shopping.

What was within the building was clear thanks to the large doors; large bins of vegetables, fruits, grains, and other plant-based foodstuffs. Off to the side of the interior of the building were large cages, within the cages were assorted domestic livestock tended to by both Lmanel and Helashio. What the building served as was essentially a farmer's market, where Lmanel often went when they lived in an urban environment, and were unable to obtain their food from the land through hunting or gathering. Everything within the building was genuine, no synthetics, no fake-food in the slightest. It was all on display, like an open market, but sheltered from the elements, and with a highly capable air conditioner unit which kept the temperature within the building at a somewhat chilly level to keep everything on display as fresh as possible.

As soon as the Nepleslian doctor entered the building, he made an immediate bee-line for the livestock, as he went about speaking with one of the Lmanel, exchanging both HS credits and local tokens of appreciation, as one of the mid-sized lumbering rhino-like beasts was escorted from a cage.

As the taxi's meter ticked off minutes, Miles was out of sight, as he stepped into a back-room with the same head of cattle. It was a matter of about twenty minutes before Miles came back out as he discarded a blood-stained smock, as a Helashio pushed a cart with a plastic-lined crate set upon it. After Miles discarded the smock, he went about gathering an assortment of produce, both domestic and foreign, before he made an impulse buy for one of the dinner-party, a rather large fish which loomed almost menacingly in a tank behind the main checkout counter.

It was clear why they had the large vehicle as their taxi, when a pair of Helashio went about loading the back of the vehicle with Miles' purchases as he boarded the taxi and had a rather pleased look upon his face. Once the taxi was loaded, it departed and made way to the Lmanel-style eatery, where Miles insisted they stop in the back, where he went about unloading the produce and meat, while handing the kitchen staff a hand-written set of instructions and recipes, clearly proclaiming his intent for the ingredients which he brought, and all that left him to do, was to wait, to wait for the first real meal he would be having since he was employed by Lazarus.
 
Aiesu thought this was obsessive. But then, Aiesu thought anything that wasn't beige powder and water was obsessive. But this really took the cake. The cake she mulled to herself, that Seiren should have been baking in an apron.

A backless apron.

Slim pale thighs.

That back.

She snapped herself back into thought as the notes were handed to the staff and she was soon escorted around to the front of the establishment by Miles who knew what he was doing.

It was short. Squat. Fat. A building of L'manel Orianu construction: cracks in the stone had been filled in with some ornate material which trickled and inkled, piping light from some unseen source, giving the room a curious and almost thunderstorm like appearance with candles dotted about hanging on chains in the corners and above the tables -- giving the room a very soft mood-lighting that danced, giving rise to a sense of warmth, inclusion and privacy. Orianu was the celebration of how a thing broke, turning it into something unique.

Whoever built this temple of food would balk at the sight of some of Nepleslia's factory built air-dropped fast-food chains.

Oh, there was still background light of the setting sun which was met hand in hand with the feeble hum of a Nepleslian flyzapper which rimmed the edge of the ceiling - or at least, that's what it looked like. An odd mix of old and new that honestly couldn't decide where it belonged one way or the other.

Sana was the first to pick their table: A corner deep inside the restaurant with silk drapery over the walls which the pyrite piped light shone through in a brilliant warm blaze of oranges and burning reds - changing over time like one of those cheap fake-animated paintings where the waterfall would appear to move, though here it wasn't quite so cheap or fake, lending a very real sense of warmth.

As they arrived, a young lady stepped forth before they'd finished seating asking politely if they'd like a drink and just what they wanted, notepad at the ready.

She was tall, lithe, elegant and strangely perfect. Her skin was dark, eyes a shade of orange, matching her tan with a brilliant redness to it like some Nepleslian nomad of ancient tradition: Her was long and beautifully kept like some cascade of cool white water against the heated theme of the given quart of the restaurant. Matching the candles and ornate wooden chairs, she was dressed in something that almost resembled the fetishized attire of a French maid, with platted ribbon frilly edges, though the colours were flipped with white on the inside and black on the outside. There was something resembling a skirt toward the bottom, though only over the very front, with the back almost completely uncovered -- showing off the small of the L'manel's back before dipping back round to hide her buttocks. Her boots rose up to her knees with a threaded style not unlike criss-cross laced Nepleslian canvas sneakers, though it was doubled over and the knots met in the middle, the fabric leather and some sort of dark hardened wooden spoon down the back of her legs, elevating her heels from the ground. The shade matched her deep fiery skin and traces of scales could be spotted down what was visible of her spine before it was chased away with a large ribbon and another spatula.

Aiesu couldn't even force herself to look at it. At her. Her mind ran away with her ... every time she tried, because she'd already made the same observation Miles had. It was too much.

It was an observation that could really only be performed by a truly experienced Lorath physician, or a cheating one with a synthetic eye in Miles' case. The observation was returned on the waitress' part though, eyeing the vineer Seira en Seiren -- leaning closer for a moment. The two locked eyes like a pair of giant squid meeting in the darkness deep beneath the ocean: Only two of the same able to recognise each other before before fluttering off into oblivion never to meet again.

The waitress smiled a knowing smile, one Seiren's purpose would recognise.

Was this sort of thing popular on Lor?

Sana gave the woman stern look, like the waitress was some overly eager sales person that would squeeze their way into some shitty slithe of a rapport by announcing "nothing serious" as they knocked, followed by "I'm not trying to change your religion or anything" or some equally viscous vomit loaded wet nasal sneeze of a sentence. Though she spent most of it trying to guess just what she'd been aspected as before spotting what she thought were antlers after the scales. Her eyes were closed through white eyelashes, only opening when they had to, evocative of the Yamataian stereotype of the kitsune fox, but the scales suggested otherwise. Even so, the same mischief was there in her demeanour.

"The first order is free" she said, finally opening her eyes for the first time since they met, her enthusiasm of meeting foreigners slightly dampened by the awkwardness and the unwillingness of one of her own kind to speak up and guide the situation.

Sana could sense the faint resentment of the waitress toward Aiesu. The commonality made her shoulders begin to relax and her smile return. The rapport had been established and not intentionally.

"Um… We've brought a few things we'd like preparing." Sana said. The waitress beamed, as if this were some great honour. While Sana often went drinking with Fyunnen, L'manel were a mystery to her and it showed just a little. She couldn't fathom the waitress' response.

The fox's eyes fell closed again, her grin returning.

"Ah, fun! Did you have anything specific in mind?"

The sentence was… Curiously familiar, in a forced way. And very open-ended. Friendly.

The pieces suddenly fell into place. L'manel were known for among other things, being surprisingly passionate and tried to remain as much a stranger to waiting and impatience as Aiesu probably was to blisters. They were also huge fans of freebies and had a strange bipolar cultural personality as being stern religious followers of hard work, dedication, a cool calmness and peace of mind unseen by the other castes with a politeness not seen anywhere else in most of known space.
But when they let their hair down in their own spaces, it was then that you really got to see how warm, fiery, incoherent, aggressive, playful and needlessly ornate they just loved to be, thriving in and of themselves and their own egos.

It was almost like the Osakans of Yamatai and their unwillingness to sit down, shut up and stop fidgeting. And it was a side most of Lor never ever saw.

Looking at Aiesu, Sana tried to place the small mousy girl somewhere on that spectrum -- and failed.

Could the L'manel the country bumpkins of Lor?

Surely not...

"I'll... I'll have ice-water" Aiesu said damply, clutching at her coat, biting the interior of her cheek.

"Beer" Sana said almost instantly.

Drinking? The fox maid smiled. Drinking was good. She'd never seen drunk foreigners before.

"And you two?" the maid opened a single eye, still proudly wearing that smile over her dark olive orange skin - scratching at her cheek with a milky white fingernail.
 
Upon entering the restaurant, Miles was at ease, the atmosphere was calm, the decoration tip-toed between some sort of casual elegance and modesty, and it made him feel 'at home' somehow. It was a welcome feeling, as he took to sitting beside Sana at the table she picked, and once seated, he was soon greeted by the sight of the waitress... maid... server... just what would he classify 'her' as? It was a difficult call, but, he left it ambiguous as he let Sana handle most of the talking as he noted the glances and looks which were exchanged between everyone at the table, flowing in one direction or another.

Personally, he had no opinion about the maid aside from an appreciation of Lmanel anatomy working so well in relation to psychological identity... well, that, and he inwardly pondered how well the kaserine market was doing amongst Lmanel with aspects that impacted gender identity, no wonder his bank account was brimming thanks to his introduction of purple-type kaserine onto the market.

"I'd like bottle service... ah... a sixteen year old scotch if you have some in stock, Yamataian calendar. Nepleslian if you have it, Fyunnen if you don't." Miles had to add a little bit of clarification in regard to aging, after all, he was not about to pay for a scotch aged sixteen years by the Lor calendar. "I'd also like some iced water as well." Miles added, as he felt a rumble within his body, his stomach, eager, demanding, longing for the meal ahead.
 
The maid saluted with a wink and nodded, dashing off rather quickly. Aiesu eyed him thoughtfully, then the maid as she chatted with someone over the counter, peeking back at her guests. They were talking about something.

"You know. I think your scotch has a good year or so on her. In trade-years, I mean." she stroking her jaw as she began applying powers of deduction. Sana took note.

In fact. Her mind was racing again.

Sana could see Aiesu's thoughts in the gutter. Aiesu was human too. Or rather, she wasn't.

The maid soon returned with that beaming grin of youth, smiling down at Aiesu then the others, placing the drinks before those who ordered them.

"Ah, apologies for the mix-up!" she said in a tone that belonged in the throat of a Yamataian school-girl. "I didn't realise you'd booked the meal in advanced" she bowed. "Its well underway and will be here shortly!"

Sana leant over her beer -- in tall classy Yamataian stein. She took a slow sip, enjoying the sweetness of it and the icy feel of the glass on her fingertips in the heat.

"Mm, its fine, its fine..."

She finally placed the last drink: a thick sickly sweet milkshake of Yamataian fame. Something that never appeared on the free menu, that had come out of her own pocket. A small piece of paper sat at the base with something written on it. It sat before Seiren, of all people.

Those white eyelashes closed with that kitsune like smile as she bowed again, soon leaving to serve other patrons - a bounce in her step.

Sana leant over, eyeing the paper as Aiesu sipped at her water noisily, trying to ignore the whole affair.

"Huh… What's that?"

"Fifteen" Aiesu stated, blowing bubbles in her water.
 
"Mmm, would not doubt it." Miles mused on the matter of the waitress' age, as he took his bottle of scotch in hand, and went about pouring some into the glass which accompanied the bottle. A sharp and sudden drink followed, as he took it down as a shot. Once the beverage was down, he looked to the note and gave a shrug. "Don't know, I don't translate written script well, someone else give it a look." he spoke, as his gaze went in the direction of the door which led from the kitchen... hunger... oh how hunger nagged.
 
Sana leant over Seiren, looking, sat next to Seiren - Miles and Aiesu sat opposite - trying to spy what was written before he did.

Aiesu gave her a stare, shaking her head.

Sana wrinkled her lip, running her tongue through her cheek - deciding Seiren should read it for himself.
 
Seiren enjoyed the atmosphere of the place. Very calm, yet vibrant all at once. So his impressions told him, anyways. He always did love a good atmosphere. And then that maid showed up. Well, not maid. Well, it was a maid. But-

This is confusing. She's a wai- he began thinking, but then their eyes locked. Miles might know, but considering his cybernetic eye only observed bone structure (at least, from what Seiren could tell), probably not.

"Well if that ain't like a meteorite through the soul," the femme mumbled to himself as the 'girl' left to go get the drinks. More random musings, trying to ignore the fact that somebody caught him red handed and in the 24 karat gold cookie jar of diamonds. . . which led to cookies. Sweet, delicious cookies.

The drinks came, and his musings returned. This time, with a little addendum. As Seiren was about to grab his milkshake, he noticed a note - which he grabbed and read immediately. Or, at least, as immediately as somebody who installed a language in order to read it could.

A phone number? And what's with the heart? And why does she/he want to talk?

"A-ah, Daijobou. . ." He told Sana, slipping languages accidentally. Too many thoughts to monitor what he was saying. He slipped the note into the pocket of the light jacket he threw on when they left, a simple denim blazer with floral buttons he had picked up at a thrift store.

It was then that he realized that he didn't have a cell phone.
 
Sana whistled, eyeing the number for a moment. Unlike the others, she didn't have the benefit of their observation. What she did have however, was a newfound respect for Seiren.

"That's quite impressive, miss Seira. You turn up. You smile. You get a phone-number from a pretty girl. You got game for a kid." she beamed. "My boy could learn a few things from you" she said, glancing back at Miles for a moment before nursing at her chilly beer.
 
A small laughing huff left Miles as he shook his head lightly while beaming a smile; "Sana, I got game, but I choose not to follow on it out of respect for you." he explained, making it clear that he was a devoted man, and was not about to go and botch that up... unless; "Though, if you give me the go-ahead to take a shot, oh, sure I'd have game whenever, wherever... except for right now, because I'm fucking starving."

Minutes passed, ticking away, adding up, eventually a half-hour of time passed before the kitchen doors opened with a group of servers, who set down temporary stands for trays near the table, laying out the assortment of food which was ordered by Miles, with the ingredients he had provided. Certainly, there was enough food to feed twice, maybe thrice the number of people in the group, though, what the Nepleslian doctor had known ahead of time, was that any of the excess would be packed up and divided between the diners to be taken home for another meal. Though, just what was there was the big question, which was soon revealed as the metal domes which covered the various dishes were lifted away with rushes of steam.

What was set out upon one dish were fillets of a local fish, deep purple-orange colored meat sat upon sep'ki leaves which were crisp and fresh, and would easily serve as a wrap of sorts. Also nestled upon the leaves were string-like cuts of a radish-like vegetable which would compliment the rich flavor of the fish, and there was also a spoon-full of a wild-grain rice served alongside each fillet, certainly an interesting treat. Sat in the middle of the plate was a bowl, where the eggs of the fish were served along with crackers.

Upon another of the dishes was an assortment of cut fruit, glazed with duq sauce and granulated sugar. In the middle of the colorful arrangement of fruit was another bowl, in this one was a thick custard-like cream, intended to be used as either a dip, or to spoon onto a given piece of fruit. Within the dip was a dark swirl of a chocolate sauce which was suspended within the thicker cream, on a smaller dish, beside the fruit dish, was an assortment of crisp and fresh vegetables, uncooked, but they were vegetables which were suitable to be served uncooked, stalks of a fibrous orange plant which tasted rich and sweet, slices of a thick vegetable root, plain and white in appearance, but with a soft savory flavor, and a series of stalks of Nepleslian celery, and a quartet of whole carrots. All of the vegetables were certainly well suited to be dipped into the rich cream which was presented on the main fruit dish.

Upon the next plates were simple items of fare; meat, in all of its glory, meat. Ribs, steaks, cutlets, strips, an assortment of various pieces of meat, even some ground up to be placed within the confines of flat sheets of a bread-like wrap which was served warm alongside the meal. Lining the edge of the plate were small bowls, filled with various sauces ranging from traditional Nepleslian steak-sauce, to elaborate sauce made from crushed and blended fruits. Notably, along with the rather traditionally prepared meat, was ground meat compressed into patties, and served alongside a collection of buns, sauces, and vegetables. Clearly, it was hamburger time.

What was on one of the plates though, the one which Miles truly had his eye on, was the course he had longed for. Upon the last plate which was uncovered was a collection of swollen pinkish mounds of meat. Stomachs, eight of them, all of them from the same animal. Within them was an assortment of vegetables, rices, chunks of meat, meat sauces, and a culinary cacophony of various seasonings and additional ingredients, until each of the stomachs looked utterly bloated. Circling the mound of stomach flesh were sausages, made with the excess meat of the animal in which he had brought, and wrapped with the rapidly sanitized intestines of the beast. What would serve as a sort of after thought though, was the scent, the scent from the stomachs... it was a tangy scent, a potent scent... it was the scent of alcohol mixed with oaken charcoal and hints of grain, it was whiskey which was splashed into each of the stomachs and cooked into the meat and contents.

"It is time to eat." Miles spoke, with a longing to his voice, as he reached over and thrust the fork end of the traditional Lorath eating utensil into one of the stomachs, before clamping onto it with the other end of the tool, gripping it before slapping it onto his individual plate. "Dig in, there's enough for everyone. Don't forget to leave room for dessert though, they've yet to bring it out."
 
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