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RP: Lazarus [Lazarus] Made For Walking

"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."

Those words coming out of Miles made Aiesu's blood freeze, cerise eyes slowly rising with a pained anxious expression that caught the doctor's attention, the first sign that there was a story to tell.

Though as the servers came out, her attention lulled, in awe of every dish and the wonderful depravity of the meal. She smiled bashfully to herself, reaching out and began lumping things onto her plate. She needed no prompt, taking generous portions of everything, though she was particular about the sep'ki, some fish, many vegetables and a stomach, which she began on tentatively. Rather purposely, she'd avoided the carrot-like-things, squinting at Miles accusingly, knowing the stereotype. Though she still wanted them. Just… When he wasn't looking. She sliced the stomach open with a steak knife -- as if she were remembering how to do this - taking a few leaves of sep'ki and then stuffing the slice into her mouth, followed by a few small thin slices of fruit in duq sauce.

Her eyes watered visibly. She sniffled. Her shoulders slumped as if she'd been carrying some huge weight.

The L'manel had almost forgotten what good food really tasted like; constructs never quite communicating the nuances properly.

Sana on the other hand had gone for the fish and the fruit. She cleared her plate of the small portion of the massive serving dishes that had to be held at various heights like some exotic drum kit she took and reached out for another rather quickly. She tried everything, regardless of what it was. The duqs hit her quickly, as the alcohol had - humming some Fyunnen war-song to herself that she'd learned in some tavern as she ate like a savage, her pretense of tidiness evaporating. It wasn't hard to see where Rebeka got it from.

Aiesu just sniffled, not even chewing, just letting the flavour ride on her palette. It was the first time she'd given Miles proper eye-contact.

"Ah… You… Got the recipe from him didn't you?" she said, starting to chew again. She sniffled again, wiping at her eye - knocking her glasses off balance before lifting them away to wipe them properly and continued eating. "Aha… Its the spice. Spice always gives me a runny nose" she tried to laugh, lying through her triangular tessellated teeth - foreigners were affected in this way but most Lorath couldn't taste spice at all. She dipped sep'ki into the duq sauce, both generously, chewing rather loudly before returning to the stomach particularly, a deep sigh of nostalgic satisfaction trickling through her.

The maid server had soon returned, pouring a refill for Sana, smiling in Seiren's direction. But every time he looked, she couldn't return it, grinning to herself like an idiot.
 
As Miles tore into the stomach flesh on his plate, he mulled over the look which he had caught from Aiesu, a look that said something distinctive, but he was just not sure what it was. Though, as soon as the food reached his tongue, his thoughts were solely upon the meal, as he rounded up more of the items from the serving dishes, as he piled them onto his plate, before selecting a few sauces to drizzle onto the whole lot. As he tore into the food, he knew he'd be in little condition to hold his head together as the night would go on, but he cared not, he was a Nepleslian to his core... getting drunk, high, and stuffed with food while in the company of a beautiful woman, a young-looking Lorath woman, and a truly deceptive trap, yeah, that was certainly worthwhile.

As Miles slurped on a piece of fruit with duq sauce, he heard Aiesu speak up, as he halted and gave a light nod. "Mmm, yeah, I had everything except for the fish planned, but I had to get the recipe for that fish dish from Ty." he explained, as he poured another shot of scotch, soon drinking it down in one go. "I'm glad you like it. I asked him about what would go well with the sep'ki leaves, and the fish, and it came together really nice."

After the explanation, Miles' attention went to Sana, as he could not help but to smile at her display of utter lack of resolve in the face of intoxication despite her synthetic biology... but really, that would mean she chose to have such a bout of intoxication, and somehow, that made it alluring to him, as he returned his attention to his food, as his brain began to do cartwheels within the metallic shell it was housed in. "Those stomachs though, it's my take on a family recipe using Lorath and Nepleslian ingredients. Its like what Nepleslians call haggis."
 
"Huh... Mother used to make this" Aiesu said, holding up a piece of fish on her fork before taking a bite as if making a toast, stuffing it into her mouth, her second bite pulling it completely from her fork to chew noisily.

There was a broad look of near contentment across the little L'manel's face, soon to be glazed over as she had another generous helping of the duq soaked fruits, the sep'ki leaves and a carrot looking thing for prosperity.

The way she sighed every few moments said she hadn't eaten food of this caliber in years. Maybe even decades. The opiates hit her quite sharply as her eyes softened, unable to scrub the stupid smile from her lips.

Sana soon regretted sitting opposite Miles, feeling the need to put her arm around him and sing, which she could only do next to him. She was on her sixth stein now. She seriously pondered calling the maid over and found herself doing so, the girl stood with a tall clear jug ready to pour another drink before Sana tried to convince her to drink with them. The girl could only apologize profusely, clearly flattered but she was still working.
 
While Sana had regret about not sitting by Miles, the Nepleslian on the other hand decided to do something about it, as he made a gesture to Sana to stand for a moment, before he would go about sliding her seat to the end of the table to be beside him, while having access to her own plates. "Let's get cozy, hm? No reason to be so far apart dear." he spoke with a sloppy smile, before he sat back down in his seat, then he went about biting into a sausage. "You know though... Lorath food is... uh, hardly conductive to talking about stuff." Miles spoke, with a little difficulty in finding the majority of his vocabulary "Aiesu, we're supposed to be talking about legs and thighs here, and whatever else we can do to get you up and about, and here we are, eating legs and thighs, this is not helpful at all."
 
Seiren wasted no time in digging in, piling together a burger in no time. Ignoring Sana's comment.

"Good food is life!" he declared boldy, munching down into the sandwich and savouring the cascade of flavours afforded to him. "Ah, this is nice. A carousel of taste! I haven't had a fresh, warm meal in a while! Just reheated stuff, hah."

Though, at Aiesu's words on her tears, Seiren rolled his eyes. "Fat chance. . ." he sighed, recalling his knowledge on Lmanels. At the same time, he shoveled haggis onto his plate. He'd had it once on a dare from Enzo, and now it was sounding pretty damn good. She prolly regrets giving me societal knowledge and stuffs right about now.

Once Sana left his side, the construct grinned. "Spuh-lendid! More room for me!" he beamed.
 
The night billowed on. The maid kept them all tanked, Aiesu gradually slipping from water into very weak alcohol - and Sana from beer into spirits, having to fight her new artificial liver for the privilege of intoxication and after some discussion, she'd managed to convince Seiren to accept a deceptively strong alcoholic milkshake and by now, he was on his third. Like all constructs, he was full when the creator decided they were. Indeed, she'd even failed to take off the emulated chemical responses: Seiren was as drunk as he believed he was.

And he was. Just a little.

Sana's arm sat around Miles' neck as she held her Stein, picking at her meal with her hands now, having emptied three platefuls and she now had her cheek pressed up against his shoulder, her tanned bicep squeezing his neck as she occasionally forgot her own strength in affections.

Eventually she reached into her pocket, fishing out a cellular telephone. A small computer, beaten and warn with a metallic exterior appearing as if it were meant for military design. For a while now, Sana had been using implants exclusively rather than the phone.

With a single hand, she rolled the thing onto its back, flipped the back off (which she held like a playing-card between her fingers) and with a dexterity even IDSOL would be jealous of, slid out the ID card, used to bill interplanetary or intersystem calls.

She then snapped the back of the case back on and slid the thing across to Seiren.

Looking over the dull gun-metal and the flat structol display of the Lazarus cellular telephone, Seiren would spot a lanyard attached to a corner with a number of surprisingly cute charms dangling, including but not limited to: a comic skull with an eyepatch and a big smile, a small plastic neon blue dog, the brown orange face of a bear in smooth marble stone and a number of decorative bells. At the very bottom hung a decorative plastic kamaboko -- the crabstick with the pink swirl often seen in Ramen.

"Here. Take it. Take it. Nooo… No protests. Take it. My gift" she said, slipping the ID-chip from her phone into the back of her ear - eyes wide and lilting for a moment as she felt herself begin interfacing with it.

The phone's screen lit up and it began to vibrate.

S. NAKAMURA

ACCEPT/REJECT?

The screen then went dark and she giggled.

"See? No hands! I don't need it. Now you can call her!" she winked like an older sister, tipping the rim of her shot glass against Seiren's tall ornate milkshake, clinking it.

"Kanpai!"

Aiesu sat, keeping to herself, every few minutes sharing awkward words with Miles -- about either the meal or something completely unrelated. Every time the conversation came about either her condition, her legs or the nature of her relationships, she stopped talking, usually scratching at her stumps.

Even for a Lorath, she had a staggering resistance to the duqs and opiates laden in the meal, normally only possible with either someone in terminal agonising pain or a recreational user of many decades. Recalling her dorm-room, there were a lot of pill bottles and three separate pill books: One red, one blue and one white, each brimming with a cocktail of genetic stabilisers and stimulants, among other things, of her own design.

The sep'ki had been an excellent choice: she'd laughed at jokes, smiled and even chipped in through the evening. Maybe she could do with anti-depressants. But then he remembered she knew what he knew: That they didn't make you happy, just gloss over any feeling at all, making the whole world pretty meaningless. That wasn't worlds-away from the accusing frown she usually wore.

But it had been refreshing, especially when she and Sana had argued about the nature of cybernetics.

Sana had been hit by the opiates. But Aiesu had been hit by the alcohol. And her guard was down.

Maybe this was his chance.
 
As the night pressed onward and the meal was gradually eaten at, and drinks were imbibed, something was distinctively clear to someone who was observing in a narrative; the group at the table populated by a Lmanel, a sentient robot, a high-end cybernetic hybrid, and a Nepleslian man, was an odd table indeed. Lmanel cooks and Helashio cleaning staff were in a quiet chatter, laying small wagers as to how long the group would be able to keep up their pace before one or all of them would need to be carried out and stuffed into a taxi. Odds were favoring who the onlookers deemed as 'Golden Woman', while due to cultural bias, there was a distinctive lack of confidence in the capabilities of 'Pale Man'. Though, that lack of confidence was somewhat off the mark, it was only because of time-tested Nepleslian genetics.

That, and the fact that it was very difficult to drink when a cyborg was clutching someone's neck in a drunken embrace.

It was a sluggish calm feeling with a delightful touch of giddiness and euphoria which had gripped the Nepleslian's mind and body, as he put an arm around Sana's waist and held her just as close as she held him. Even with her squeezing grip, he paid little mind thanks to the intoxication; that, and the reinforced upper spinal column which was part of his cybernetic brain-case. Even as Sana delivered such a grip, Miles still turned his head to place a kiss upon her forehead whenever he felt the inclination as she rested her head against his shoulder, and as he did so, there was often a flirtatious whisper; proclamations of attraction, admiration, lustful desire, and love.

Even in his intoxication, he knew what he was there for aside from a good meal, as he waved down the waitress, and went about a casual request for a cocktail comprised of Helashio liquor. While he knew very little conversational Lorath, he knew how to place an order for damn near any drink he wanted, and this included cocktails as he ordered what effectively translated to a rather unassuming name; 'Sweet Leaf Juice', though, there was a minor grammar tweak applied, a very subtle one, which differentiated the words to indicate reference to the alcoholic beverage... truly, it was a phrasing that belonged to a speaker of advanced Lorath; though, Miles was able to, only by virtue of being a proper Nepleslian man, a Nepleslian man was always expected to know how to order every alcoholic beverage for every place he visited, otherwise, he was just not being man enough.

What would arrive at the table soon thereafter, while Sana was fussing with her phone, was a pitcher of a leaf-green beverage, chilled to the point of frost clinging to the exterior of the pitcher. What resided within the pitcher was a cocktail comprised of sweet Helashio liquor, mixed with finely puréed sep'ki leaves, liquid extract from native gum, native citrus fruits, a small dash of capsaicin rich liquid made from a crushed berry variety, and ample quantities of sugar. Soon, Miles poured two glasses, as he slid one over to Aiesu, with hopes that she would take to it.

Regardless if she would, or would not, he waited for just a while longer, as he let minutes pass after the conversation between Sana and Aiesu regarding the very topic he intended to touch on. Eventually, he determined it was a good time, based upon the read-out on his built in clock; one of the only things that was an internal anchor to coherence.

Though, what did not help Miles' situation, was his own intoxication "Aiesu... su-su... su." Miles started, with a little stammer, working on his own words, putting them together like a child would building blocks, until he had the right things to say. "You know... as a doctor, well, you're a doctor too, but uh, as a doctor, I would like to keep to our topic at foot, I mean hand, by discussing legs..." Miles realized, as the words came out of his mouth, he was sounding like a fool, and with an internalized thought, a buffer came on-line which stood as a momentary barrier between thought-and-speech, enough so Miles' cybernetics could filter out his drunken stammering, for the most part.

"What I mean to say is; we should discuss those legs I brought with me, and what we had spoken of." Miles spoke, there was a little less feeling behind his words, as some of the inflection was lost, but, at least he was coherent. "I've also read about some recent advances the Matriarchy has made in regard to femto-machine implants." What he hoped for at that moment, was for Aiesu's opiate and alcoholic buzz to intermingle with what professionalism existed, to produce a dialog unhindered by whatever personal demons existed within the Lmanel.
 
Aiesu tittered to herself before pointing an accusing finger in Miles' direction like a five yearold snickering at a fart joke. She wasn't sober but she fared much better than he did.

"You brought me here just to hawk crap at me...? Hah... Hahah..." she cracked up, leaning sideward against Seiren a few moments before wiping her eyes, still laughing.

"Alright, alright. You've had the gall to try and eat like a L'manel. So you've earned the right to talk like one. I'm listening."

Sana picked up almost immediately on the shift in Aiesu's dialect: She'd fallen out of her prim and properness into something closer to a country bumpkin by Lorath standards. And she was occasionally mispronouncing his pronouns in a way normally only used by lovers: a 'technique' on par with Nepleslian pickup lines.

Miles wouldn't even know. He was relying on a perception filter to turn her blended orthodox and modern Lorath into trade semantically. Oh he heard Lorath, but his brain understood the words. And as he spoke back, she was relying on her silvery headband to perform a similar trick, both speaking their native languages.

But the way she mucked up his pronouns. Aiesu was hitting on him. Sana picked up on it almost instantly. At first she wrinkled her nose, cooking up a possible slurry of Lorath insults of incredulity -- but then she noticed: Aiesu was only making the mistake half of the time.

And that was more in line with... An awkward place. Sometimes children talked to their favoured parent in this way. Or maybe a mentor or teacher. But the tone she spoke in was still provocative.

In a moment of rare reason on Sana's part, she put two and two together and sussed Aiesu didn't even know she was doing this -- and that if she were told, she'd explode into hours of either intense arguing (which Sana didn't really want) or she'd lock herself in the bathroom and refuse to come out (which again was troublesome)... So she let it slide.

Maybe Aiesu wasn't faring quite as well as Miles had thought.
 
Where Miles was in his mind was somewhere distinctively far from having any deductive reasoning, any capability to latch onto the subtle, he was flying by the seat of his pants, upon a rocket-ship of intoxication, fueled by an assortment of chemicals which nagged at him, but made him ever so bold, bold enough to cut the shit and get right to the point without dancing around.

"Alright, we'll talk as your people talk." Miles spoke, before he boldly downed another shot of his scotch, as he looked Aiesu square in her eyes. "I will not go into the whole matter of the benefits, you know all about what it is to have and have not when it comes to legs, you live it every day, and it would be stupid to harp on about." Miles started off, as he picked up a piece of meat from his plate, biting into it, briefly chewing and swallowing before continuing; "What I'm going to get to is this; give me a chance to do my job. I'm a scientist, a doctor, and an expert in cybernetic engineering. In my thirty-some years of life, I've made as much headway into my expertise as most of your people three times my age would have made." While he sounded cocky, he was nowhere off base as he continued, and reached for another drink... this time though, he slammed down a shot of the beverage he had ordered for Aiesu.

"What I am getting at, is that you need to let me do what I am good at. What we discussed before is still on my mind; I'm not going to carve into you, I'm not going to add any excess equipment. What I have to offer you amounts to a new pair of legs that you can just slip onto your thighs and with them, you'll have as much, if not more, mobility than your peers." Miles spoke, ever so honestly, as all of his Nepleslian ability to remain so bold while being so utterly drunk came in handy. "Dodge around this, and what you would be dodging around, would amount to dodging around getting a new pair of shoes."

Miles let that sink in for a moment, as he dug into another one of those stuffed stomachs, digging into the contents of one before he pushed onward in his conversation; "As for treating you beyond the legs, that is up to you, but again, give me a chance to do what I am good at. If that means I may have to add in one or two synthetic implants, you should be thankful that it would only take that so you would not need a hundred and fifty years of ongoing treatment."

With his case laid out before Aiesu, Miles gave her the sloppy grin which belonged to a Nepleslian who knew exactly what he was doing. "Besides, I have brought a woman with me, just to make sure I do a good job, right Sana?" Miles spoke, as he gave a chuckle; "She likes to watch."
 
Sana gave a dreamy nod, grinning ear to ear, just happy to be there.

Aiesu found herself staring at the two. Almost jealous of their closeness, that they had each-other. But something else nagged as she rubbed her thighs together uncomfortably. Sana noticed.

Aiesu took a pair of shots to match him and his pace. The first went down with ease. But the second time, she forgot to swallow, coughing profusely afterward.

"Whatever... Gyagh... Whatever you do, just make sure you can UN do it when you're finishe..."

Sana was staring at her. But why? What had she done that was so offensive? She reeled through her last few sentences. Was it her mistrust in his handiwork, maybe? She'd been pretty extensively modified so to distrust her doctor meant she distrusted Sana.

"Nnn... Hah.. Don't look at me like that!" Aiesu pipped up. Her words were cocky but her voice was nervous.

Sana raised a brow. The linguistic quirk Aiesu spoke with apparently included herself, not just Miles.

"Hey, Aiesu..." she began.

The L'manel sat up straight, expecting to be told off or yelled at.

"Ah?"

"Are you alright?"

...Well yes. Why wouldn't she be alright? In fact, she felt amazing. Aiesu was trying not to laugh at the question. She couldn't make sense of it.

"I'm sorry, what?" she tried not to laugh.

The L'manel was dodging the question and both of them knew it.

Sana loosened her arm from Miles' neck and leant forward, extending a hand. Miles had often told her that in order to understand the natural world, experimentation was important and the scientific method too, was important. Her hand ran along Aiesu's cheek - the L'manel watching as fingertips stroked before cupping it. Protectively.

"I said Are you alright?"

A small trickle of sweat collected at her pale nape - her teeth locked beneath closed lips - clenched enough to make her ears ring.

It was a very very physical reaction.

To any onlooker in the restaurant, the golden foreigner draped over the table was testing the little pale L'manel. The gesture itself had many meanings but was essentially a test of dominance: A question of whether or not you allowed yourself to be singled out as weaker than the other in your resolve and intellect: whether or not they could walk all over you. But it was also a sign of intimacy.

The appropriate response outside of any kind of interest, always, was to push away. Just gently. Then to return it inverse, each party taking a turn. This was a common greeting amongst friends and was especially common between students and teachers, parents and children -- who both did it at the same time and didn't push, instead knowing to withdraw on their own.

As Sana's hand met Aiesu, her hands rose, meeting: Both so small compared to that one dark hand. Sana watched, waiting to see what would happen. Aiesu didn't move. This was usually a lazy dismissal: To hold but not to push. Wrinkling her lip, Sana began withdrawing her hand, seeing Aiesu as cocky through and through.

But something strange happened:

Aiesu's fingertips tightened: She wouldn't let Sana's go. Their eyes couldn't meet, Aiesu's meeting the floor as Sana stared at her. To be unable to lock eyes with someone was a sign some form of shame existed -- not all that different from the Yamataian idea of ignoring the person you're attracted to, with excessive shyness a form of flirting.

"Su-Su?" Sana said again, leaning closer.

Delicately, unwillingly, Aiesu began to push -- leaning forward in her chair. She didn't let go of Sana's hand until it was as far as she could reach - then sliding back into her chair. She sat, bitterly then took a shot of her drink. And then another. And then another, coughing again.

Sana eyed her hand, running her thumb through the cusp of her index finger thoughtfully. Whatever had just happened, it was significant enough for Aiesu to have no intentions of remembering it in the morning.

What happened had gone almost completely over Miles' head who had likely assumed this was some attempt on Sana's part to intimidate the L'manel for staring at him again in his blissful opiate fuelled egotistical ignorance.
 
"I can do and undo and do, I'm good like that." As Miles' drink from the Helashio-style cocktail hit him ever so firmly, leaving him somewhat dazed, he found the words all the more difficult to put together, even with a buffer cycle. As he worked to put his head back together and focus, he watched, he watched as Sana leaned across the table to speak to Aiesu, to touch her, and then, he kept watching the way the two interacted.

Miles was no dummy, not even when so brutally intoxicated he could not really do much to respond to what clicked in his head. There was meaning in the gesture between the two, ample meaning. It was not just some little touch, little gesture, little things at all. No, not in the slightest... but, he just lacked the capacity at that moment to really put together the full impact of everything in his mind, but his gut said plenty, as he knew there was something going on. Perhaps it was intimidation, but, he knew better, he knew better from Sana, she was not the sort to outright intimidate anyone aside from either to test or tease.

When Sana sat back into her seat, that was when Miles leaned in, placing a kiss upon her cheek, whispering softly into her ear; "Tell me later about what that was." as he spoke that request, he leaned his head against her shoulder this time around, as he went through a sort of mental checklist on his physiological response to his ingestion of so much of the local fare combined with ever so traditional alcohol.

My heart is beating slower. My lungs are operating at this efficiency only through cybernetic stimulation. My sense of touch is dulled, yet my nerves are alive with positive stimuli, as well as a minor itching sensation. My belly is full, but feels deceivingly calm. I am in a state of euphoria. I am currently afflicted with the effects of sixty-to-eighty milligrams oxycodone hydrochloride, in conjunction with form phenethylamine which is resulting in my continued ability to remain conscious. My mesolimbic pathway must be lit up like Funky City on Lewis Pasco Day.

Eventually, Miles sat upright again, as he looked to Aiesu and found a few further words; "Let's go back to your place and try some things out." of course, he was referring to the legs, but the implications were easily able to be taken as something else, but his intoxication made any good reason as to his word choice go right out the window, and with a drunken gesture, Miles flagged down the waitress again as he made a box-like gesture with his hands. "Ah... um... box for foods please, thanks." and really, he only gave in on ceasing his meal, because he had no interest of it escaping his belly through the route it came in.
 
Seiren was having a hard time staying awake. All of the opiates, all of the mood lifters, alcohol. . . It was DIFFICULT to think, let alone process what was happening around him. His companions' actions were all but mystifying at this point, so he decided to do the one thing he could really do at this point, which was flag down that cute girl with the horns and mumble the word "Taxi," before faceplanting on the table. Thankfully away from the remaining couple of plates.
 
A deep gong resounded through the ornate walls of the sleepy restaurant and its occupants became very quiet.

"Time, please" a voice called out. "Last orders."

The dark skinned figure of the waitress maid had been tidying the meal away for a few minutes now, into a battery of silvery trays which she stacked into a large ridged luggage-case with a transparent front and wheels at its base below its retractible handle before zipping shut. It normally clipped onto a trike used for deliveries - which was the usual code when this sort of thing happened, since it was all still far too large to fit into a doggy-bag.

She vanished for a moment, returning in a pair of sensible shoes and a maroon brown faux leather jacket with the company logo emblazoned on the left shoulder, along with a cap in place of the frilly headpiece that matched.

Peticoats had replaced the closed bottom of the uniform, however, with stocking and garter -- a bit racier than what she had on earlier.

"Being big spenders, I've been charged with making sure you and your meal all get home okay, alright? I hope you don't mind" she saluted casually, someone else wheeling the case to a taxi outside. "The fare is my treat because of the big tip you left earlier" she smiled.

It took Miles a moment to recall but about half an hour ago, Sana had tucked some healthy quantity of Yamataian currency into the Maid's rear waistband and slapped her backside playfully, which was immediately followed by a delicate Lorath mewling of protest and laughter on Sana's part.

Standing up, Miles would discover she was actually an inch taller than he was, giving her a strange catwalk quality - the dragon grin that sat before his eyes a mischievous but earnest one beneath those closed white eyes. She soon lifted Seiren to his feet who on toppling, she hoisted up off the ground and up into her arms, cradling him quite effortlessly - tucking the note into his shirt for when he woke up and putting the phone into his hands.

"Reminds me of my little sister. Always falling asleep" she beamed.

Sana wriggled her eyebrows, turning to Miles, hinting that she wanted to carry him in much the same way. She knew he wouldn't have it but the thought made her laugh.

From the other side of the table, Aiesu stumbled up to her synthetic feet, clinging to the table for balance before falling flat on her backside.

"Is she alright?" the waitress asked.

"H-Hey!"

"Mm" Sana said, hoisting the pale protesting L'manel over her shoulder. "She'll be fine."

"Ah… I see." the waitress replied, turning to face Miles.

"Since master is the host of the party, would he care to lead the way?" she beamed.

Trade. She'd spoken in trade. Oh, it was dripping thickly with her Lorath accent, but he could tell she'd been dying to use it all night, especially that one particular word.

It would be nearly an hour later before their L'manel friend had pulled the case of treats up several flights of stairs: the lift out of order. Sana took Aiesu's key, unlocking the door and slowly the party of five poured into the small dormitory chamber.
 
Lorath dining, it was a tender venture, an almost loving experience. To be cared for, to be seen to so well, it made the entire affair of eating out one to be cherished and enjoyed so deeply. For Miles, it was worth every single bit of currency he put down. Tip for the waitress, tip for the manager, and a quantity of money to be divided amongst the kitchen staff. He was well off, there was not a reason to be stingy, even more so when utterly intoxicated with most of his good sense and reason drowned beneath alcohol and a slurry of various chemical compounds which teased at his nervous system, like the delicate touch of a lover.

Leaving behind such tender accommodations was difficult, not in the feelings of the heart, but, through the sheer obstacle of impaired motor control. As Miles stood, with a small shuffle to his feet as he worked to keep his balance as cybernetic components worked in conjunction with his muscles to keep him steady, he looked to Sana as she lifted Aiesu; while Sana assumed he would not want the ride, in fact, at that moment, he wished Aiesu had not beaten him to it. Though, when the Lmanel waitress spoke; addressing him with such an honorific as 'Master', it was enough to stroke the ego of the Nepleslian man as he found the will to forge onward, with sluggish steps.

As Miles and Sana walked out of the restaurant, it left the service staff dividing the wager pool between those who bet on the 'Golden Woman' and those who bet on the 'Pale Man'. Winnings were not exactly exuberant, since few bet in favor of the Lmanel at the table, nor the 'Delicate One'. None the less, with the tips from the group, there were no complaints, as the kitchen staff went about cleaning up, while also doing the preparation work for the breakfast and lunch crowds of the coming day.


From the restaurant to the dormitory, the taxi ride was fairly uneventful, as Miles managed to keep his dinner down, as he wore a content smile upon his lips while leaning his head upon the section of real estate between Sana's collar bone, and her breast. Eventually, upon arrival, Miles managed to lead the way, only by using a way point guide set up by his implanted equipment.

When they reached Aiesu's room, Miles took a slight stumble while stepping inside, but soon he found his way to the kitchen, where he went about obtaining a glass of water as he watched the others stream in. His gaze went to the Lmanel waitress-and-delivery-person at that point, as he gave a smile; "I would help with putting that in the fridge, but I'm fairly sure, I'd fall over in the process." he explained, as he leaned most of his weight upon a hand on the counter-top, as the other hand went through a demanding effort of simply holding a glass steady. "Thank you by the way, ah... what is your name anyways?"

Even as Miles spoke to the Lmanel, his eyes wandered away, and settled on Sana, as he watched her with a gaze that any Lmanel would know as one that belonged on a predator on a hunt, that look of patient longing. That expression of desire. It was clear that he was waiting so patiently to share a moment with his fiance, an embrace, a kiss, a tender touch, anything to satiate the feelings that bubbled within him, both from his own heart, and from the chemicals that were churning inside of his brain.
 
"Ah" the waitress maid turned delivery maid said, glancing from Miles to Sana and back again, putting two and two together based on the looks they gave each other as she wheeled the cart over to what she presumed was a refrigerator: the stasis unit Seiren had arrived in. It was stacked with half cooked ingredients frozen in time and an assortment of piping hot meals: The steam frozen in the air moving at one one hundred thousandth of its normal speed as she closed the door, then opened it again to see it flowing as it would normally.

"La'al" she said, emphasising the break in her name. "My friends just call me Lalah. This is a weird chiller you've got, boss. You're sure you want it here?" she said, still in that Lorath soaked trade.

But she'd already begun stacking. There were lots of things she didn't know about foreigners: eccentricities she could spend lifetimes understanding. In her mind, this was one of them.

Sana settled Aiesu and Seiren next to each other in the bed pit - placing the two back to back, top and tail. She for a few moments, leaving La'al and Miles alone. She paused, looking over the foreigner. Like all Lorath that had never left the planet before, she was naturally curious.

"…You look like we do. I expected you to look more…"

Alien?

Sana returned with a cheap plastic bag full of various clinking bottles that she'd brought from one of the other dorm-rooms apparently operating a brewery. She set them down on the table and began pouring glasses. The noise made Aiesu stir, who sat bolting up - panting as if she'd just had a nightmare. Her hair was messier than usual, which was an accomplishment in and of itself.

Eyeing the bottles as Sana withdrew them one after the other, Lalah felt her stomach sink.

"She's… Augmented, right?" she whispered delicately with a weary smile. Sana had easily drank enough to kill two L'manel in the course of the evening and by now would have even given an IDSOL some form of alcohol poisoning.

"Your wife, I mean" she said, the dip of her head emphasised by those antler like horns.

Sana paused, watching Lalah for a moment. The way that dark maroon scaled tail disappeared up into the many petticoats of this other seemingly delivery-sensible uniform. The lick of L'manel thigh between those layers and thigh-high stockings were where Sana's eyes finally rested.

The glass she was pouring began to overflow.

Honed by many years of training, the L'manel withdrew a cloth from thin air and lifted Sana's bottle up away from the glass, stemming the pour and was soon dabbing up the excess over the coffee table.

"A-Ah, sorry" the L'manel said. It was customary to assume the blame of the customers: they were there to have a good time, not to feel guilty. The same apparently carried over.

"Hey…" Sana said, pulling at Lalah's antlers playfully. "Why don't you stay and have a drink with us? We're all friends here, right?"

Aiesu could be heard sneezing.

"…I have to be going" Lalah protested politely.

She looked to Miles, her eyes silently pleading as Sana's arm wrapped about the young L'manel's neck like some great tanned python, drawing her into a camaraderie embrace that forgot her strength.

The sort that only bloomed in the presence of alcohol.

"Just the one…"

Her grip tightened. Lalah felt something soft, warm and bare against her cheek and instantly knew what it was - and a sense of distilled dread trickled through her belly.

Lalah had always been told the greatest offence to a foreigner was to get fresh with 'his' woman (as strange as the idea seemed to a Lorath). As such, she'd been told to stay away from foreign women and to avoid foreign men who had a ferocious appetite the majority of Lorath men couldn't white match.

It was starting to dawn on her that she was in a den of wolves now.

"A-Alright, alright! Let go!"

Sana grinned with a smug sense of superiority.
 
As water began to trickle its way into Miles' belly, there was something of a cascade of relief as the cool liquid intermingled with the rest of his stomach contents. Reward centers in his brain, already mostly lit up, still had enough in them to appease Miles' instinctive sense of things that were needed for survival. In this case, the water was a distinctive boon, a guarantee of liver and kidneys working in unison without impediment by the sheer sum of toxins which were accumulating within his bloodstream, but in the most delightful of ways.

As he drew breath after the last of the liquid found its way down his throat, he turned his gaze to La'al, and could not help but to recognize, even in his intoxication, that he had been paid a distinctive respect. "Yeah, urm... go ahead and pile it in there... ah... the mistress of the house likes weird appliances." Miles spoke, a bit slowed in his speech, as he carred into conversation; "You know, while I am not quite looking alien, I still am... I'd like to thank you for allowing me to know your actual name." Miles spoke, giving her a light nod before the sound of glass meeting caused his gaze to go to Sana.

"Yeah, she's augmented, a piece of my own work." Miles spoke, as he gave a light and prideful smile, and soon, that smile became one of curious questioning as he watched the scene unfold between La'al and Sana, and could not help but to feel... a sort of blissful conflict. Selfish desire for his woman, yet, a feeling of amusement in her behavior. Though, as a Nepleslian man, he still had the affliction known as machismo.

With a swaggering sort of drunken stride around the counter and out of the kitchen, Miles approached where Sana sat as she released the Lmanel, and as soon as she did, he put his arm around Sana as if claiming her, yet, the smile on his lips was the same smile which a man would have as he would try to impress a woman with a fine car, with a hope of her climbing in. There was a Nepleslian motto at work in that moment, as he assessed the situation for all it was, as his drunken gaze played over the Lmanel. Indeed, she was in the wolf den, and he was hungry.

"Hun." Miles started, through an encrypted link between him and her; "Being this... utterly fucking shitfaced... well, its not good for coming up with relationship policy, but uh, threesomes are good since we're both involved, yeah?" Miles asked, the alcohol was in effect granting him such brazen boldness, yet, he still had the indication of a loving respect for her in his transmitted tone. "Because if you're gonna do somethin', I sure as shit ain't just watching." As he transmitted those words, the hand that belonged to his arm which was around Sana moved lower than her shoulder, soon caressing and lightly grasping soft flesh, before his gaze moved to the sound of the sneeze.

"Ichi homerare~" Miles spoke, as a vague traditional acknowledgement of her sneeze in Yamataian, and his speech continued in that Imperialist dialect "It seems, the mistress of the house is up; come join us, neh?" he spoke, inviting Aiesu over to the table to join them.
 
Aiesu glanced down at Seiren as he sat slumped at her side. She grumbled, nudging him in the small of his back with one of her prosthetic legs.

"Hey. Hey?"

She nudged harder.

"Hey!"

The small figure stirred.

"Wake up. You're not even drunk. You're…" she felt the world spin and held it in place. "You're not Seiren. You're a simulated Seiren. And not even accurate: You're a probable simulation of an idiot, which might mean you're not completely stupid. Remember how … How…"

Aiesu gurned. the world was swinging again.

"How you're only drunk because you think you are, because you're a construct." she said, clutching the edge of the bed-pit to haul herself out. "You don't even have neurochemical systems, you idiot"

With that, she soon lifted her head, stumbling to her feet to get a look at the others. What she saw had her transfixed. Instantly, she understood why foreigners didn't partake in opiates:

The other L'manel had been hoisted up into Sana's lap: Bronzed thighs wrapped about just one golden in twice thickness, the other golden leg sat about her, pinning her in place, with hands tucked expertly in Sana's lap, overpowering her.

Obviously she wasn't taking no for an answer.

With strong hands free, Sana held that tanned jaw open, forcing the lips to match and a bottle between them. The image was… Evocative. The way she struggled to take the burning fluid into her body, gulping noisily as Sana cheered, hushing into her ear.

Her throat contorted, dragging the heat wetly down into the pit of her belly - squeezing in protest - quenching fires of curiosity and setting others that mixed in ambivalence. She swung her head as the fluid trickled down the corner of her mouth down between her collar-bone and lower still.

It made her dark skin shine invitingly.

Finally, the thing was wrestled free. She coughed. Were she stranger to alcohol, she would have struggled or have wretched. Were she a stranger to this kind of attention, by now she would have screamed. Instead, there was only wincing of the soreness of her throat.

Just how delicate was she?
What would she sound like under him?

Whatever was in the cocktail of chemicals she'd just brought into her body had done Lalah a mercy, eyes becoming dreamy. Although tall, elegant and beautiful and very adult by Nepleslian standards, it evaded both Miles and Sana that she was only thirty years of age and lacked the tolerances of an adult.

Aiesu could have stopped it there and then but what she saw squeezed the air from her mouth. The words wouldn't come: The things she'd feared of foreigners, those two specifically were coming true: What should have been a gentle lilting celebratory evening of duqs and booze, the sort held by families was too much for the ego of the two Yamataians.

It was almost symbolic.

The way they had her between them, taking from her what they wanted. It was evocative of Yamatai's initial encounters with Lor. Was this the soul of all Yamataians that they'd hid from her? This gross imperialism? Was this why every nation secretly despised Yamatai?

Aiesu then heard Seiren stirring behind her. He was Yamataian. One of them.

A chill ran down her back.
 
If it's pretty, fuck it.

That was the motto, straight out of the Nepleslian rulebook for being as Nepleslian as could be. At that moment, Miles' thoughts were encompassed by that bit of truth that so tenderly gripped the psyche of his people. It was a byproduct of decades in which the Super-Y chromosome had run rampant, causing enough of an imbalance in gender population to result in some rather interesting survival mechanisms. Surgeries, drugs, body swaps once they became available. It led to a murky space in regard to the thought process of the Nepleslian man, when it came to the topic of attraction, yet, it was so perfectly clear in its own way.

At that moment, Miles knew what he felt in his gut, and it led him to grasp the bottle which Sana held, before gingerly taking it from her as he took a short inhale of the scent of the contents. Wine, with added alcohol content. Miles concluded, before he took a deep drink, it went down like brandy, and it was perfectly acceptable. Another drink entered his mouth, but this time, he skipped swallowing as he leaned in between the two golden figures, placing his lips against those of the Lmanel, before passing her a drink in the process as he knew in a flash of thought that his partnership with Sana was going to be the most exciting marriage he could ask for.

"I have concluded... on behalf of the household of Gunn-Nakamura, we should annex the bed." Miles silently spoke to Sana as his lips left those of La'al, as his green eyes lingered upon the citrine-like colors of the Lmanel's gaze.

Intermission
 
The construct's hand reached out and wobbled in the air, feeling about for something. I brushed past Aiesu's cheek once or twice before settling on a nightstand. The wayward appendage brushed over the handle of the drawer attached and yanked, pulling it open and exposing. . . candies? The hand grabbed a small handful of the sweet treats, somehow also unwrapping all of them with the use of the same hand, then porting the lot over like a construction crane and dropping it all into his mouth.

Moments later, he bolted upright with a cheesy grin on his face.

"Zu-baaaan!" He onomatopoeia'd, looking about the room. "Y'know, if you had told me that earlier, you could have saved me the faceplant at the- what in Ketsurui are they DOING?"
 
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