The car that Mr. Stapleton and his spritely assistant Reeves was sitting in was a car. Most 'cars' on Yamatai were more like personal conveyances, boats upon different currents where you simply chose which current to take you somewhere then sat back and let it happen. Even before Mr. Stapleton's fingers worked their magic to make this car even less safe, he had some modicum of control. At least now, he could replicate things he saw in the action movies - fly between traffic lanes, swap lanes and use the turn signals to tell people that he was driving, not just riding along.
Luca found himself walking alone with his since-Delsauria ever present taut face, watching the faces of the Yamataian people in the heart of their beehive either going about their businesses or watching him back. Try as he might, a man in a bright purple armoured jacket with a gigantic revolver (no rounds loaded) and a quasi-bionic arm (unpowered) just stood out like a sore thumb where even fashions that could change by the hour and even one's bare skin was fashionable enough when bodies could be changed like under-underwear.
Sometimes, the faces in the crowd would either hang agape with wonder that someone so lofty was capable of mundane activities like walking, breathing, watching where they step so they didn't step on cracks. Maybe they were thinking of everything he'd done to be so memorable even before his brand extolled fictionalised deeds - one person's warmonger was another's saviour when you peeled the veneers back. Some faces in the crowd were smiling at him - perhaps they were on Drift or Nepleslia or they'd been inspired or touched them in some way Luca couldn't fathom. Hit by the right ripples when Luca cast his stones into the pond those many years ago.
For some of those smiles given amongst the questioning looks or wonderment, his stony face could break into a smile back to them. Something that transcended the brand and the marketing was the deeds that inspired it all, and maybe that's what they believed in - or perhaps not; a lot of people are happy just to say they've seen someone famous. It could be the most interesting thing that happened to them all week.
When he looked back ahead, he could see that cafe Echelon talked about at first. From the outside, it appeared to have an extra amount of fenced outdoor space delegated to letting customers bathe in the morning sunlight or stay under the cover of the vine-intertwined balcony where even more people could sit to admire the cityscape view. The barrier that separated the outdoor part of the restaurant from the rest of the street was adorned with flowering bushes and hedges.
He looked at the people eating - the food itself looked consistently Yamataian and very Yamataianised if it was supposed to be from elsewhere. The wedges in that bowl looked like they'd been machined from potatos rather than just cut. The people eating there seemed to be the bookish sorts, the salarymen, the clerks, the casual workers and people just trying to get on with their lives. However, like a half-person half machine would be easy to spot and so would a man in a bright purple jacket and huge sideburns. He decided to stand aside and watch the area from a distance.
"Ally, Ech," Luca whispered into his earpiece. "I see the place. No sign of the Spacer from outside. You two go in, I'll stick out. How are you two dressed?"
"Er," Allison looked down at herself and realised that she was wearing a cream white summer dress, a white wide brimmed hat beneath her orange hair and sandals, while Echelon appeared to be rocking the Elegant Gothic Lolita look with high boots, a puffy skirt and a bodice, as well as a clearly unnatural eye colour and makeup. "Speak for yourself Captain, Echelon here's all jazzed to the nines."
"They came from your wardrobe," Echelon replied back lazily as she carried her parasol ever so elegantly. "They fit me nicely too."
"Sh-shutup, that was a simpler time..." Allison retorted meekly as he continued walking along towards the restaurant, walking past the little pedestal that had the menu on it and some kind words said about the restaurant. The beef sashimi looked particularly nice. "You wear that even better than I did,"
"You know it~"
"Oh pack it in you two - head inside, get something to eat and keep an eye out for any freespacers."
"Wakarimasu. We'll ping you if we see anything. Otherwise, quiet from now on- oh-" the two were about to move inside when they saw a familiar face - rather, a familiar body nearby, "hey Luca?"
"What?"
"It's that giant Nekovalkyrja. Shayla, I think her name was."
Luca's eyebrow raised and he nodded, remembering the distinct figure from the hotel lobby. He'd given her his card in case she needed anything, and Allison and Echelon were present. They could be recognised. "Er, no biggie," he shrugged, "small world. Proceed."
"Roger. Going quiet."
Luca found himself walking alone with his since-Delsauria ever present taut face, watching the faces of the Yamataian people in the heart of their beehive either going about their businesses or watching him back. Try as he might, a man in a bright purple armoured jacket with a gigantic revolver (no rounds loaded) and a quasi-bionic arm (unpowered) just stood out like a sore thumb where even fashions that could change by the hour and even one's bare skin was fashionable enough when bodies could be changed like under-underwear.
Sometimes, the faces in the crowd would either hang agape with wonder that someone so lofty was capable of mundane activities like walking, breathing, watching where they step so they didn't step on cracks. Maybe they were thinking of everything he'd done to be so memorable even before his brand extolled fictionalised deeds - one person's warmonger was another's saviour when you peeled the veneers back. Some faces in the crowd were smiling at him - perhaps they were on Drift or Nepleslia or they'd been inspired or touched them in some way Luca couldn't fathom. Hit by the right ripples when Luca cast his stones into the pond those many years ago.
For some of those smiles given amongst the questioning looks or wonderment, his stony face could break into a smile back to them. Something that transcended the brand and the marketing was the deeds that inspired it all, and maybe that's what they believed in - or perhaps not; a lot of people are happy just to say they've seen someone famous. It could be the most interesting thing that happened to them all week.
When he looked back ahead, he could see that cafe Echelon talked about at first. From the outside, it appeared to have an extra amount of fenced outdoor space delegated to letting customers bathe in the morning sunlight or stay under the cover of the vine-intertwined balcony where even more people could sit to admire the cityscape view. The barrier that separated the outdoor part of the restaurant from the rest of the street was adorned with flowering bushes and hedges.
He looked at the people eating - the food itself looked consistently Yamataian and very Yamataianised if it was supposed to be from elsewhere. The wedges in that bowl looked like they'd been machined from potatos rather than just cut. The people eating there seemed to be the bookish sorts, the salarymen, the clerks, the casual workers and people just trying to get on with their lives. However, like a half-person half machine would be easy to spot and so would a man in a bright purple jacket and huge sideburns. He decided to stand aside and watch the area from a distance.
"Ally, Ech," Luca whispered into his earpiece. "I see the place. No sign of the Spacer from outside. You two go in, I'll stick out. How are you two dressed?"
"Er," Allison looked down at herself and realised that she was wearing a cream white summer dress, a white wide brimmed hat beneath her orange hair and sandals, while Echelon appeared to be rocking the Elegant Gothic Lolita look with high boots, a puffy skirt and a bodice, as well as a clearly unnatural eye colour and makeup. "Speak for yourself Captain, Echelon here's all jazzed to the nines."
"They came from your wardrobe," Echelon replied back lazily as she carried her parasol ever so elegantly. "They fit me nicely too."
"Sh-shutup, that was a simpler time..." Allison retorted meekly as he continued walking along towards the restaurant, walking past the little pedestal that had the menu on it and some kind words said about the restaurant. The beef sashimi looked particularly nice. "You wear that even better than I did,"
"You know it~"
"Oh pack it in you two - head inside, get something to eat and keep an eye out for any freespacers."
"Wakarimasu. We'll ping you if we see anything. Otherwise, quiet from now on- oh-" the two were about to move inside when they saw a familiar face - rather, a familiar body nearby, "hey Luca?"
"What?"
"It's that giant Nekovalkyrja. Shayla, I think her name was."
Luca's eyebrow raised and he nodded, remembering the distinct figure from the hotel lobby. He'd given her his card in case she needed anything, and Allison and Echelon were present. They could be recognised. "Er, no biggie," he shrugged, "small world. Proceed."
"Roger. Going quiet."
