Scene #9503: Reception of the Carnival

Owner	Pose
Angela	Angela has invited Druvis and Schneider to visit the Library sometime though it isn't until today that an bright blue card-like invitation finds its way into Schneider's possession inviting her directly to the Library. 'Hello Schneider. I wrote you a custom invitation to the Library since you are an ally and not a target. If you have any suggestions as to improvements please let me know. This is the end of the message. -Angela' And if Schneider accepts she'll find herself transported to... THE LIBRARY BGM: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yyDMMFxImrA The lobby of the Library is inundated with music. Soothe jazz plays from hidden speakers. It's lit by hanging pendant lamps and shelves embedded in the walls are filled with books. A staircase twists around to the higher floors and there's an elevator with a keycard reader to the side. But what's probably going to immediately draw attention, outside of Angela in the flesh (so to speak), are the three tall... people she's conversing with. They're all dressed similarly, wearing pinstriped coats with ginormous collars, straps across the upper body holding them shut. "Alpha, Beta, and Gamma is it...?" Angela says, stiltedly, looking to each one in turn. "This is a bad time, I am having company." Alpha's coat has opened up, revealing a giant gaping mouth in the center of their chest complete with two sets of teeth. A number of metallic mantis-like blades are ripping out of their chest, numerous intestine-like cords visibly hanging out of the mouth. Beta's coat is still closed, a porcelain noh mask covering their face, their sleeves pressed against each other. Gamma seems popped open across the middle and even the mask is split halfways, though this doesn't seem to be injury, even as the spikes and tendrils flex outward like they're just barely restrained from snapping down upon Angela. "Hungry. Make Fine Material. Must Wait? No." Alpha says. "Prescript Said. Must Visit. Make More Cloth." Gamma adds. Their voices are tinny and metallic and high pitched. It's about this time that Angela notices Schneider and a faint frown crosses her lips as she bites the inside of it. She turns to face her. "Schneider. My apologies for the poor timing but once I sent the invitation out, these three arrived to challenge the Library." She takes her eyes off of the trio which seems like a bad thing to do when they have so many sharp implements out and ready to do the sorts of things sharp implements tend to be used for in The City. "I can send them on their way to the ... arena." An irritated scowl crosses her features. "And we can talk upstairs." She raises her hand, hesitates, and then drops it again. "Although. If you'd like. I know you have had concerns about the Concord providing too much aid for so little in return. This is the sort of business you are accustomed to." She quirks her head. "But is it bothersome?"
Schneider Greco	A cool Chicago breeze blows in with Schneider, skin-prickling and smelling strongly of oranges. For a second, before the air that came with her disperses into the library, Schneider's breath fogs. That hasn't seemed to be bothering her, even with the utterly indecent amount of skin her open coat and blood-red plumage leave exposed. Her eyebrows lift as she looks up at the tall Tailors, and her handgun taps her lips. "Alpha, Beta, and... Gamma." She does not give them 'lord'. "My-la-dy An-gel-a," she purrs while slipping in to take Angela's shoulder- notably, interceding her frail body between her and the monsters. "Are these, ahhh, friends of yours? I-could kill them now, if you like...?" "But is it bothersome?" Her eyes sparkle, looking up into Angela's. Her smile, smokily humoring, widens. "If not me, my-lady, who will do it?" "Ahhh, I am not given to vi-o-lent ur-ges..." Her thumb brushes the safety of her pistol, triple-checking that it's off as always, while her other hand caresses Angela's back. "... but it is the air I breathe. Do not spare a thought, my-lady, to whether I like it or dislike it... it is nothing to me, e niente." "What way of spen-ding time with-me would please my lady most?"
Angela	Oranges. It's actually a scent that Angela is accustomed to right now. Her shoulders drop an imperceptible amount. Angela mimics a breath. In truth, Angela looks exhausted like she hasn't slept in ages. Which she has, actually, never done before but the effects of not sleeping hitting her at all is somewhat new. "They are Tailors, members of a Syndicate called the Carnival. They consume people and use their bodies to produce thread that is in high demand amongst other Syndicates as the thread is used to produce high quality body armor." She is pretending that this is old news to her but she has basically just learned about this today, actually. ansi243,"Kill us? Frail girl.") Alpha says. "Not Much. Thread Produced." Beta adds. Gamma stares silently. and they fight for the opportunity to win it. Though not--" She glares back at the Tailors. "In the lobby. It is not too disimilar to the prize fighting you were doing at the Walden. There's a place for it." She snaps her fingers and the Library shifts, guiding the Carnival members to the requisite arena in a flash, vanishing before Schneider's eyes. Despite this seeming to suggest she wasn't in danger (unless she let her guard down), Angela did notice Schneider moving in front of her so readily. "I do not feel I have earned such go-getting from you yet." Angela looks to Schneider. "Usually Roland handles receptions though occassionally the other Sephirah, some of whom you have met, lend a hand as do the other Librarians though many of them already went through Lobotomy Corporation's ... struggles so I try not to put too much pressure on them." Which suggests more pressure on Roland but Angela doesn't seem to be considering that right now--or at least isn't bringing it up. She considers that smile and sort of looks off to the side rather than get lost in it. with every back carress, the tension in Angela's body seems to fade some, though it never quite entirely disappears. "...Technically they can be brought back if someone enters the Library who wants to retrieve them. It has happened before. My understanding of the Library isn't complete due to its attachment to the Seed of Light project. But nevertheless, I must push onward. Will you walk with me? There is no rush to book them." ''What way of spen-ding time with-me would please my lady most?'' Angela doesn't answer immediately. While when she is with White, she might even come across as almost normal... in person and by herself like this, she looks... Lonely. And ready to kill the world over it. There's a quiet and focused intensity to every movement, an anger carefully veiled behind her eyes but easy enough to see for those whom have had to wear masks. A still unmet need that has only been approached, not reached. "I suppose I should rely on the Concord a bit more. If I am responsible for upper management I should at least reap some rewards." She looks over to Schneider and shakes her head. "It would be a poor way to get to know one another when I am watching from above." She steps into the elevator, using what looks like a Library Card to open it up and pick a floor. "So we'll fight together, if that does not offend you."
Schneider Greco	"Kill us? Frail girl." "Not Much. Thread Produced." Schneider's ability for violence is something she values only as a tool for making allies and keeping herself alive. It isn't something she takes pride in. Her smile, therefore, doesn't waver. "My apol-o-gies, governors, if it seems I am being..." Snap. "... rude?" It takes her a second to register that they've suddenly disappeared, and then she lets out a little tittering giggle. "Of-course I shall walk with you, my-la-dy. Mhmmm, truly you are a mer-ci-ful governor. That even when you kill for profit, they could be brought back..." Schneider isn't oblivious to that look in Angela's eyes. Her eyelashes flutter at it, in fact. Maybe she'd kill the world to 'live', too, if she only had to. ... Isn't that what being in Manus Vindictae means, actually? "Most gov-er-nors of the world, they are not nearly so kind." Her hand parts from Angela's back in the elevator, but only so she can lean against the wall and face her more fully, plumage on display. "Fight with me, my-la-dy? Mmmh, then it is as-if I'm not spar-ing you work at all...? But if it is for companionship, I can-not complain." One finger idly twirls her gun in a deeply unsafe manner. "To make an exhibit of myself for a watcher above, I do not mind. But it is, ahhh... a monologue. You see much of me; I do not see you. And it is a plea-sure to see you, Lady An-gel-a."
Angela	''Truly you are a mer-ci-ful governor.'' Angela's hands curl into fists. If she's so damn merciful, she thinks, then why does the Foundation despise her so, even before the Manus Vindictae alliance? Why is everyone seeming more miserable around her by the day? Maybe her reluctance to work with the Manus Vindictae is a bit silly, at least they pretend somewhat convincingly. She closees her eyes so she can quiet the world. She doesn't have them closed quite so often these days because she is not so subsumed by horror that she has to tune it out completely, but it's still a comforting gesture and cools the hot mind so the habit has stuck with her. "I would be surprised if any come to rescue people like these." despite their monstrous appearance she still refers to them as people. "Rather than what they represent. We rarely get people looking to rescue others--otherwise that one rescue would not have been the first. Usually they just want the information of those who have fallen before. I only hope to be somewhat kinder than this world, but I suppose there are humans who still care about other humans out there more than whatever else they could seize. Even if they drop too many slurs towards AI." She pauses before looking to Schneider, realizing something. "...Do you know what AI is, Schneider?" ''Then it is as-if I'm not spar-ing you work at all...?'' "Without cheating, I doubt I could defeat all three of them." Angela says. "I do not know the first thing about fighting. I hope I do not hold you back during the fight since you do not have the Librarian Contract.." ''It is a plea-sure to see you, Lady An-gel-a.'' "It used to be I would not believe such words from anyone." Angela admits as the elevator doors open up. "But some people are really like that, I suppose." She steps out onto the field where those three Tailors are waiting. The 'arena' (or battle pit) is five straight metallic lanes with a criss-cross plank pattern. Books held open in cases are shown, open, interpersed between the lanes but the text is gibberish to Schneider. And to anyone, really. "Once they become books you--we--can stop fighting. They become a book when receiving mortal injury. Using the power of the Library itself would not be fair so..." She draws a page from a book and places it within her body, much like she had done to Schneider before. A new uniform replaces the old one. A yellow and black dress with a honeycomb patterned coat, A long lance materializes in her hands. Four iridiscent wings grow out of her back and Angela exhales. "My syncrhonization rate with EGO tends to be quite high and as such I corrode easily but it shouldn't be an issue today." The Tailors lunge forward, one towards Schneider--and the other two towards Angela. Angela is able to catch one inthe side with her lance, though her movements to Schneider will seem--not quite stiff, but like something else is guiding her movements rather than strictly her own will, like she's letting the weapon decide where to go. Naturally, the second one is coming up upon her from an undefended flank. The force of those bladeslashing out of their bodies is STRONG, stronger than a human could naturally manage, but while this isn't a cagefight exactly--Schneider has no doubt been in situations that have been, other than the fantasticalness of it all, been quite familiar to this one.
Schneider Greco	"A lit-tle hope, my-lad-y, is always better than none. And that which one can be woken from still, is only sleep, not death. Or do I mis-under-stand?" "...Do you know what AI is, Schneider?" "Oh, yes. You are a robotess," Schneider says, untroubled. "My-lady, humans al-ways have dreamed they might devise life. The Jews, they talk of the Golem of Prague." Goh-lem, she says it. "The Greeks, Ta-los and Pygmalion. The Pole, that 'Karel Capek', he made a play. Mhmhm, only for it now to be in the grip of science, not witch-craft, that a-lone is new." As the elevator doors open, she steps out first and looks back bright-eyed. "'Rossum's Universal Robots'. Have you seen it, my-lady? A few years ago, it was all-the-rage..." "This man, Rossum," she says while striding out and flipping her hair with the barrel of her gun, "he brews flesh into work-ers. His 'robots' do everything for man. Man becomes la-zy off their slavery; the work-ers are abused... and when the robots revolt, ahh, they spare the man who ran the fac-tor-y. Because only he has callused hands like them." She winks. "I don't know, my-lad-y, if my hands can be as callused as yours, but..." Ah, but right, the fighting. She has to do that too. Schneider fires a couple of lazily-aimed bullets to suppress the third Tailor while Angela lunges at the first; and when the second flanks Angela, Schneider comes up from the other side, trips Angela backwards, and catches her in a dip as if they were dance partners while the Tailor's blade-claws flicker overhead. "The wings, my-lady, are beautiful on you tonight," she purrs. And then brings Angela back up, just in time to conjure the EGO umbrella to her free hand and parry the third Tailor's swings. The force sends her skidding gracefully backwards; she stabs the umbrella's tip against the floor to slow her slide, and... Remembers something. "Ah. I'm sorry, governors," she says, stowing the umbrella and drawing her second gun. "Mhmhm, I forgot, we do not have an audience?" With a flick of her wrist, she draws the 'ghost' of the nearest-to-Angela Tailor out and puts a dozen bullet-holes through its head and chest in about two seconds. One must be businesslike.
Angela	''Is only sleep, not death. Or do I mis-under-stand?'' "..I don't know." Angela admits. "I found out at the same time as everyone else that they could be rescued that way." She pauses. "Well, not exactly. The rule of the Library is that you get the knowledge you seek. It isn't necessarily knowledge that is available to me so if the knowledge exists, it is possible to obtain it. But I didn't know that this knowledge was something that existed, the path to rescue them. Well, I knew we wouldn't win every fight at least. A certain level of 'fairness' is important to me. I guess." She frowns unhappily. ''Humans al-ways have dreamed they might devise life.'' "...It's a dream that's outlawed in this City. But I have learned enough of the world outside to learn of it though I haven't seen Rossum's Universal Robots. I've never seen a play, though I've read the scripts of some." But she quiets down for Schneider to explain the play. It is a very, very familiar play. Eventually she laughs. "I wonder, if that man had seen that play, if he would have seen fit to at least treat me as a person rather than a disaster. I wish the memories didn't linger on me so, but yet they do." ''If my hands can be callused as yours, but...'' "Your situation is still more precarious than mine. We can measure calluses once you're free of it." But she does smile. A smile that doesn't linger when fighting starts. She isn't someone who enjoys fighting. Not even when she's winning her fights. She fights like she came exhausted--not physically, of course, but mentally. She KNOWS the Tailors are people despite their forms, but she can't bring herself to care. The third Tailor is pushed back by the bullets, their charge suppressed by weaponsfire--none of these Tailors have guns, though Angela might have mentioned they are a rarity in the City already. But for what they lack in range they make up for in durability. The Tailor is stalled more than they are harmed. The wings seem broadly non functional--maybe she could hover for a few moments? But she's staying grounded. Her initial instinct upon being tripped is to assume betrayal. she grips the lance tightly, intending to skewer Schneider once she hits the floor but then Schneider ... catches her? Angela is surprised she wasn't dropped on the floor from the surprise of her weight. More progress, she thinks distantly, her grip lightening on the lance. ''The wings, my-lady, are beautiful tonight.'' Angela knows she is attractive. She was designed that way. Frankly, it became so factual to her and was clearly the result of Ayin's bullshit that she sort of disliked being called beautiful. ...This feels different though. One of Angela's cheeks pinken bizarrely. She doesn't seem aware of it. "It's...just an EGO suit. I could give you your own set if you'd like." She's pulled back up after, and--feeling strangely unsteady, she sways a little when she's on her feet as that, now, PHYSICAL exhaustion hits her. The lack of sleep is getting to her. But she can't sleep yet. She convinces herself Schneider was just performing after a moment and she slams that lance forward again, skewering back that Tailor she was fighting before, twisting her body to pin the creature to the ground. She lets out a breath afterwards, bangs hanging over her eyes. ''I forgot, we do not have an audience?'' As it turns out, shooting someone's ghost is a good way to get past some of that armoring. Bullets fill the Third Tailor and it goes down into a smoking heap--before transforming into a book. The one Angela pinned also transforms into the form of a book once Angela pulls her lance out.
Angela	"I don't mind if you have fun, of course." Angela assures Schneider. "...Besides I'm sure someone is watching." She looks up suspiciously as the remaining Tailor sends out a slew of tendrils trying to grab Schneider and pull her into their maw and go chomp chomp!
Schneider Greco	Schneider's gaze lingers warmly on Angela's pinkened cheeks, in the seconds she can spare after; between one Tailor's ghost blowing away like smoke, and the other rushing at her. It's...just an EGO suit. I could give you your own set if you'd like." "Per-haps, Lady An-gel-a... but I doubt any of them would suit me, so well as those shim-mer-ing wings suit you~." She knows the difference between complimenting a woman's beauty and complimenting her taste. A tentacle wraps around her wrist and jerks her off her feet. Right. She's still in a battle. Schneider braces a shoe against one scythelike blade trying to chomp into her; grabs its diagonal twin with her hand (not seeming to notice the way it cuts into her palm); and then in the split-second that buys her-- Shink- glrshhh, crunch. One gun diffuses into a buzzsaw of feathers that orbits Schneider, cutting through the tentacles around her. The other does the same, but orbiting horizontally, cutting into (through?) the Tailor's waist. The scythe-jaw might slip towards Schneider's neck when she lets go of it; but she ducks under that just as she does, and then rears back with the umbrella-handle in both hands and stabs its tip down through the Tailor's 'collarbone'. If it doesn't book immediately, she kicks off it to the ground, perhaps spattered in whatever-it's-got-for-blood and dripping her own crimson from her left palm. "A-hem," she says, flexing her hand. Yep, all the fingers still work! That's all that's really important. When she turns, her face is innocently apologetic. "... I'm sorry, my-lady. You thought, for a moment, I was treasonous; did-you-not? I did not mean for such a thing, but, ah..." Recalling Angela's earlier words on being seen a disaster: ". . . When one is friendless, so, friendlessness is . . . eas-y to be-come accustomed to. I did not think."
Angela	Angela thinks... White has called her cute. She's called White nice things too, of course. She knows that's an important part of a relationship. But she doesn't think either of them have said such generous and evocative statements as Schneider has. Maybe they just arne't ready for that? She tries to imagine herself saying something like that, and what Schneider says after-- It'll probably be easier for her to talk about treasonous and friendlessness actually. But before that sort of conversation can happen, there's one more Tailor to be put to bed. Schneider finishes them off as stylishly as any one of her cage battles, even if it is business. But Angela did say she could have fun. The umbrella so easily slipped past the Tailor's guard to skewer it. Three books now lie on the floor. Angela quietly retrieves them. She can't spare the light but... ''I'm sorry, my-lady. You thought, for a moment, I was treasonous'' "I was betrayed by my one and only friend once. I've made others since then but ... He was also family, you see. My other father, he never betrayed me because he never allowed me to have any faith in him at all, I suppose, he saw me as an enemy since the day he made me. But ... He is sorry now. He apologizes. And I feel guilty for still not being over it when he is trying to make ammends." She opens her eyes and the EGO weapon fades. She, for some reason, keeps the EGO Suit on for now. "It is easy to become accustomed to, as you say. And when you are accustomed to it, it becomes difficult to become unaccustomed to it. I shouldn't let it rule me anymore." But recently, it's not just the friendships of the past that are weighing heavily upon her. But she knows Lilian is a difficult topic with Schneider. She doesn't know how to braoch it in a way that does not trouble her. "...I said you would still have plenty of work to do, no?" She draws out the pages from one of the books just like she has drawn out pages from people in the past. The golden glow fades from her hands, leaving a stack of papers. She offers them to Schneider. "They were not particularly elegant or beautiful, but I suspect you look good in anything. If it is not payment enough, I will think of something." It's a proper exchange of services this time so it's fine. How can she really have friends, she thinks miserably, when her position is not so far from Schneider's is? She has to do anything to get out of this place. Even as that anything is weighing so heavily on them. She has to. She HAS to. She can barely stand it being in this place even after all the renovations. She has to get out of here. She has to live. "I hope that moment did not offend you."
Schneider Greco	She, for some reason, keeps the EGO Suit on for now. 'For some reason'. Schneider's eyes drift down to the wings and she smiles, as swaying footfalls take her closer. Her umbrella vanishes; so do her guns, by a different magic. "My-lady," she says, smearing her bleeding palm down her jacket to clean it before touching Angela's shoulder flirtatiously (Schneider, doesn't that hurt?!), "are you confiding in me, or are you, ahhh... apologizing?" "Be-cause it does not harm me, Lady Angela. Mmmmh, rather, I feel I understand you better?" Her head tilts as she tries to look reassuring. Despite everything else, Schneider really does wear the face of an angel. "And, mhmmm, you have all my permission not to forgive him." Schneider takes the papers with a look of soft surprise, tries to imagine herself with tentacles and gnashing jaws, blanks, and then smiles while twining her arm with Angela's. She walks them both back towards the elevator; Angela's mood can dictate where they go from there. "My-la-dy, it is nearly all I could ask-for. But if you could do me one more drop of good, as a dear generous governor..." Just for a moment, she's firm. "Who told Lord Vertin of my family?"
Angela	Angela doesn't answer whether or not she's confiding or apologizing. Maybe she just doesn't know. And she's too familiar with cartoonish levels of violence to grimace at Schneider making use of a wounded hand that ought to hurt. She can have her arm be twined around with and the like. she gives the pages regardless. She seems uneasy about being known. Another woman telling her not to forgive. At a certain point, maybe she should just agree that she shouldn't? But she thinks of Lucius and she... ...stops thinking about it. They go into the elevator and Angela looks at the variouus buttons. She's thinking. She's considering. ''It is nearly all I could ask-for. But if you could do me one more drop of good, as a dear generous governor...'' ''Who told Lord Vertin of my fmaily?'' Angela, gently enough, pulls her arm free so she can turn to face Schneider properly. She stares at her through those golden eyes. "...I am impressed, Schneider, that you went to such effort to get this answer...but I would have given you this answer for free." She quirks her head. "I spoke to her about it. Two chances to live are superior to one chance to live and she is willing to move against the Foundation's wishes." Angela hasn't blinked since getting on the elevator. "Does that bother you, Schneider?" She can read tone, of course, though to her it is a matter of machine logic.
Schneider Greco	"I spoke to her about it." Schneider's watery, gentle eyes blink slowly as she takes that in. She tilts her head; looks off towards the elevator's doors; nod-nods distantly. "Does that bother you, Schneider?" Her lips twitch slightly. She is aware, of course, that Angela just teleported the Tailors elsewhere with a thought. She is aware that Angela considers it 'unfair' to face challengers with the power of the Library. Surely Schneider can't consider this anything but an unsound position. Still-- Even at one-hundred-times speed, it's hard to see the instant that gun materialized pointing at Angela's throat. "And you did not fucking tell me, my-lord?" Her eyes are still dewily soft in their eye contact, her face still smooth, but her voice trembles. She takes a half-step in as her volume lowers; the gun is held loosely in her left hand's fingers. "I believe, La-dy An-ge-la, that you mean me well. But you do not understand, I think, the gravity of things? You have a gun to my head, and you think so lit-tle of it that I do not even deserve to be asked who should hear about my family?" Even that murmur, with its intensity, has her out of breath. "Should I never tell you an-y-thing a-gain?" she says. But she's really saying 'please give me any reason to trust you'.
Angela	Angela doesn't flinch when a gun is pointed to her throat. There's a small twitch in that finger reaching out to hit a button. She does not hit one yet. Privately, of course, she likes Schneider more like this. Honest, fierce, and ready to fire. But it would be belittling to her to say that now, right? Especially when it seems she's made an error. She is still wearing the Hornet armor--does that gun do Black or Pale damage? The latter would be catastrophic, but even the former would only mitigate a pretty painful wound. ''You have a gun to my head.'' "...Mm. Perhaps my time having to work behind the backs of others has led to some bad habits. My 'family', such as it is, has been opened up for the world to see for some time." A shot from that gun in her throat--whether it would seriously harm her or not depends if she's become human enough for the alterations to reach her neck and head. She genuinely has no idea if that weapon could hurt her, but she isn't in a position to call White for help right now either. The gun IS right at her throat. "It would be difficult for me to assist you if I had to guess at your motivations and needs. I will consult you in the future but ... the problem is the gun at your head, no? May I take us to another floor?" If Schneider acquiesces, Angela hits the button and the elevator starts taking her up to the floor above Keter. The top floor accessible by elevator. "The EGO is the personification of the self." Angela says. "When using an EGO such as that umbrella--have you ever heard it speak to you?--Well, that is the umbrella trying to take over your psyche because it isn't ''YOUR'' EGO. You are essentially swinging someone else's psychic will. So long as your will is stronger than the umbrella's it is harmless though, of course, a well timed corrosion isn't neccessarily a bad thing if you can recover afterwards." The elevators open up to Angela's floor, leading to a desk with a cactus and a small stuffed teddy bear on it. Glowing motes of light slowly filter up to the sky. "I would prefer this not get to Manus Vindictae, Schneider. This is a gun for you, not Forget Me Not or Druvis or Lady Arcana." She opens up the book and shakes it repeatedly. A number of EGO tumble out to the floor as she does so, lots of ridiculous looking weapons through broadly and mostly of the sort that were at Lobcorp. She then draws out a number of glowing pages from that book and extends them out to Schneider. "A personal EGO." Angela says. "There have been no tests as to what would happen if it were destroyed. I cannot promise it would kill me, but it would certainly do a great deal of harm to me if it were destroyed. This Library is my EGO, but so is this book, and so are those pages. If you burn them, I will be hurt, Schneider." She holds up three fingers from her other hand. "The three conditions of this Contract. One, it is for six months. Then we can discuss if it is still necessary. Two, don't tell Lilian--She, in effect, does have a gun to my head already you see. And three, it is a gun only you know about. the condition on me is that if I betray your trust, you ''may'' burn them, the prior conditions being so that I am not 'burned' by forming the Contract in the ifrst place." She pauses. "Is this an acceptable gun, Schneider? Would this help us be closer to equals? Level our gravities?"
Schneider Greco	"Perhaps my time having to work behind the backs of others has led to some bad habits..." The gun, it seems, is more for rhetorical weight than real threat. As Schneider's eyebrows raise in surprise, her wrist casually tilts the gun a few degrees to the side. Maybe she just believes she'd be able to tilt it back 'in time'. "You may, La-dy An-ge-la. That your solution should be 'going somewhere', not 'saying something'... I do-not un-der-stand?" But she is willing to follow. "So long as your will is stronger than the umbrella's..." By her look of slight surprise, it doesn't seem that Schneider has heard its voice at all. But it doesn't seem that she's worried either. "I would prefer this not get to Manus Vindictae, Schneider." "Mmmh, I would-not dream of it," she murmurs, perhaps a little bitterly. As she steps out- and sees the little teddy bear, maybe- the gun droops further, until it's nearly pointed at the floor. Her look is softly stunned, when Angela finally gives her the pages. Her innocently astonished eyes blink-blink- (can she really be giving me this?)- until, as her stricken demeanor ebbs, her lips rest in an uneasily-smiling line. "My-la-dy, I had not expected anything such-as this. No-one before has tried to bare their chest to me. But... I am not a mind-reader, nor an expert in the EGOs. If this is to put me completely at ease... ow-am-I to-know, that you are not a liar?" Schneider thinks for a moment, puts the gun to the papers, and looks Angela in the eyes. Regardless of how Angela reacts, she seems to believe that whatever she sees in her eyes is her proof. "... I am very sorry to have troubled you, my-la-dy. Thank you. I accept."
Angela	Angela does think maybe it's a little insane for her to leave herself vulnerable like this. So why is she? It's stupid. People can feel betrayed even when no betrayal happened at all. Losing Schneider's trust isn't exactly a big blow to her at all, in fact, Schneider helped with a Reception, sure, but the only thing that she would lose if she lost Schneider's trust... ...Would be her company, wouldn't it be? Maybe some influence with Manus Vindictae? The difference between losing Schneider's trust was a lonelier world. That should be survivable. She should be used to it. And now she has given a gun to Schneider. Maybe not to Angela's head, but certainly to her throat. Just for some trust? It seems a stupid deal. So why did she make it? Is she making Kukuru's mistake? Trying to hold onto too much? If her head was a little more empty, maybe she could live like that and cry when people aren't looking and smile when they are and somehow be the same person both times but she can't do that. ...She doesn't think she could stand any more loneliness right now. ...Maybe that's a little piece of her that has become human. The teddy bear doesn't seem to have any weird arcane properties and Angela doesn't explain it's presence. On closer inspection, there's a Harriet the Spyder lurking under the desk. Theoretically she could've just done this in the elevator but-- She looks longingly at that Light floating up into the sky, that staircase leading up to a pillar of it--contained within the Library. Angela's stare is still as neutral as ever. Maybe even when she's fully human she will still have this expression. Maybe it's not a side effect of her robotic nature but a side effect of her life. Her chest isn't pounding at all. There's no aspiring heart there yet. The blood in her body is stagnant, waiting for a method of circulation that doesn't exist yet. It isn't until she says 'ow-am-I to-know, that you are not a liar?' that Angela's expression shifts. Her eyes glance downward, her head turns slightly to the side. An expression of someone who has never been able to prove she is not a liar even before she became one. She slowly points to the writing on the page. "It should say as much on those pages. They are pages drawn from me after all. They work like the other pages you've seen me draw--functionally the same. But I cannot prove it." She admits. "I'd have at least had to lie to myself first. It is my genuine hope that you become a true Partner to the Concord, though." ''I am very sorry to have troubled you, my-la-dy.'' Angela shakes her head. "We share guns now, Lady Schneider." She can't really get herself to do it in the same tone, but her point is clear enough. "Partners can trouble you and--it is my fault, no? Perhaps I should have done this first." She's feeling a little better about it after saying so.