Scene #9512: The Great Matilda Boutiquenich!

Owner	Pose
Lilian Rook	The pretense of all this was mildly stupid, but not irrelevant. To get Matilda out of that goddamn building was the inciting impulse, but frankly, something as normal as a shopping trip with Petra was a significant appeal as well, and her enthusiasm for Matilda has been established, so it's sort of halfway kinda like a date while walking a very peppy blonde dog (duck) as a conversation-starter. But in addition to all that, it's also very much true that Lilian is getting invested in Matilda's world, and thus needs to sink her cold, capitalist fingers into the handholds she can get, so she can have the funds she's used to there as well. So the premise checks out. Matilda's eye isn't even superfluous; Lilian would like to know what the Foundation will buy off her, or at least, specifically, its arcanists. Such is the way that her general disinterest in economics and fondness for having money to throw around find the lowest-effort way to keep the trust fund infinitely skimmable in the black. The Eastern Seaboard Urban Center, on the coast of what enough people still call England, is what she best knows, where she is best known in turn, and where she has years of established client relations to call on. Once Matilda has her excursion papers signed and stamped, she's called through the Warpgate terminal; a cluster of small naturally occuring Warpgates scattered on the border of the First and Second Circle; at the 'pedestrian station' on the First Circle side. This immediately marks 'having an interaction with well-established federal Warpgate infrastructure' off her list. It amounts to a security checkpoint in a bougie post-modern architectural lobby area making her go through name, business, duration, photo ID, contact information, declaring any 'organic items', a walk through some sort of Nefarious Arch, and then being asked for 'weapons or dangerous magical items', just before she's prompted rather pointedly for a 'sponsoring individual'; something that is smoothed over by a clerk finding a 'reservation' by 'Lilian I. Rook', which qualifies Matilda as a 'class 3-G attaché' to 'class 1-E VIP'. Bureaucratic apathy is summarily replaced with fondly touristy 'have a pleasant visit' attitude, wherein she is issued an electronic sticker for her ID and permitted to skip the hallway with the mirror-visored military security guards and instead enjoy the little promenade with the 'small airport' cafés and tchotchke shops. Lilian is waiting inside, along with Petra (who qualifies by this arcane bureaucratic process as '2-R'), dressed for a mediocre British winter with a pretty white cable-knit sweater with a dark pleated wool skirt over thick leggings and a wine red double-button peacoat which she mysteriously wears her pendant over rather than under. Finishing off the remains of still-steaming coffee, she waves Matilda down near the entrance, where she can see perhaps one inch of snow dusted over disarmingly pretty white and red brick seaside architecture jumbles up and down rings of coastal hills, and a crystal clear, almost cloudless day. "They didn't give you any grief, did they?" she says upon greeting, with an air like she can't imagine that 'they' would dare. "I plan to run down my checklist of usual clients, but any input you have right now would be welcome, seeing as we can get to them first; my old contacts will talk after close if it's me." By 'old' of course she means like four to seven years but still. "Of course, this will take long enough that a stop for dinner is simply inevitable." It can't be helped! "So it'd be best to get to anything opportunistic first, no?"
Petra Soroka	Usually, Petra is the one relegated to the fawned-over blonde conversation piece girl set between two women, and so to be in the position of being the one on a 'date' rather than being a sexually convenient handbag is both novel and exciting. The process to get to an Urban Center is rare but far from unheard-of for her, and though she's slow to bring Lilian's name up herself she always preens once the bureaucrats' attitudes change in response to it. Petra would get 'Attaché to Lilian I. Rook' branded on her lower back if Lilian asked her to, really. Petra's version of 'dressing casual-nice' is, predictably, very much the opposite of Lilian's, in a way that'd get her escorted out of the kinds of shops Lilian intends to bring them to if she wasn't with Lilian, but because she is, it makes her exotic and daring. A black short-sleeve t-shirt is fully unbuttoned, as a layer over a seasonally inappropriate brown crop top that exposes a sliver of the faintly gold sunburst tattoo on her abdomen. She's covered in straps of all kinds except the obvious, with her green pants held up by a big belt, the mother-of-pearl inlayed case hanging off a cord around her neck along with a wooden carved flower necklace and the collar, and around her wrists is not only the friendship bracelet that Matilda made, but another one too. Similar to the crystals and beads Qetra wears and Petra showed off once, but slightly different: the stones, to an observant eye, are crystal quartz, prehnite, moonstone, and lapis lazuli. Given how much skin Petra's exposing, she should be cold, but she's beating back the moderate chill through sheer energy. So as to not wander away from the table where Lilian's waiting, Petra releases her excess excitement by kicking her feet instead of bounding around, sipping at her own warm oat milk tea. The time before Matilda arrives is packed with Petra's own cheery babbling, bouncing between talking about her recently-completed finals, the upcoming winter semester, her ventures on Hydrochoeria, and whatever else comes to mind. ". . . so winter's gonna be a little weird with basically just one class that I'm supposed to be busy with for four hours every day of the week, for four weeks, until that one ends and I've got another four weeks of uh, some prerequisite about broadcasting and radios and stuff that I think might be super interesting actually because of how much what we actually do hinges on those interworld radio comms. Oh, and speaking-- Nika really really liked Norton's little pot, of course, when I showed her, and she's built this adorable little house for Ruble, and when we were talking she was wondering if you might want to start gardening around there too, like--" "Of course, this will take long enough that a stop for dinner is simply inevitable."} She's cut off by the arrival of the girl of the hour! Something which dims her excitement none at all. "Oh yeah. Yeah! We could really spend tons of time here. It'd be so fun to go eat somewhere."
Foundation Scions	'They didn't give you any grief, did they?' Matilda Bouanich, having just waved a full-arm, tacky, eager-excited wave back before scampering over, clearly could not have been given any much grief by the guardians of rigid bureaucratic order! Them doing their jobs is never grief, even if there perhaps was more than zero fuss (before the whole matter was cleared up) over the idea that, if she were to have to hand over her orbuculum, given that is is used, effectively, as a wand (and thus a weapon), any handling guard must be careful with the polished surface! And as such, her answer to grief is none other than, "Of course not. They quickly understood my top-notch personal character, and ensured all protocol went smoothly and comfortably! See? They provided me a sticker to indicate such!" She points at it, with a big smile, too proud of herself. Matilda is, as this is an official matter, dressed in her Monitor Assistant uniform; grey, grey-er, white, and red, cardigan and skorts, direly weird-fashioned, especially for a modern transit promenade. She thinks it looks charming and professional! And it's comfortable, even when it's a bit snowy and chilly! "Ahh, I, I was not expecting the Twenty-First Century to be so, well, quaint and picturesque outside!" What did she imagine? Is this just that snow and brick feels old? Is she that direly used to grey concrete? She doesn't elaborate before fully walking over to a window to ooh and ahh out of, before back to the spot Lilian and Petra wait at. 'I plan to run down my checklist of usual clients, but any input you have right now would be welcome, seeing as we can get to them first;' Matilda clears her throat- "Well, per the Foundation's sanctioned requisitions list, personally-portable communications technology materials have remained on the utmost-valued, for encrypted and secured coordination! That, and, erm, a long list of components of human medications and fixatives for violent injury. There is, er, some awareness that the technology level for both of those aspects is far beyond what is feasible by the Foundation's own methods, so the focus does sound to be most strong! So, as for input, that is what I must give, on behalf of the St. Pavlov Foundation, mm-hm!" Matilda tucks a folder from under an arm, to distribute stamped papers saying roughly what she's just said, in more formal tone, with a few enumerated specifications, such as the standardardized pocket dimensions of the Foundation's Field Investigator uniforms, and that of a group listed as the 'Vigiles Bureau', and a few declassified memos on the general medical loadout of its field-workers. Matilda's office of the FDMO seems, apparently, to have begun to earn some valid claim to exist, by the excuse of having someone just to ferry this information outward, with at least a circumstance like this, where the Foundation clearly has a lot to gain. "Dinner? But, er, you expect it will take that much time in order to consult..? Hm! Well, of course there would be much to discuss, and whatever time to make such direct connections, so, so a brief stop for dinner is simply responsible!" Matilda dislikes the cafeteria she has access to ! "But, er, by what sort of stop do you mean, for that which is opportunistic?"
Lilian Rook	'. . . so winter's gonna be a little weird with basically just one class that I'm supposed to be busy with for four hours every day of the week, for four weeks' Lilian is, it seems, . . . moderately invested in this topic? A minute before throwing the coffee cup away, she chatters back and forth with "Seriously? Where do they get off demanding four hours for a single class? If you can't compress it down to two then you aren't a proper teacher." and "Oh that's so astonishingly sweet of her. Of course, I end up on Apple Tree Island once a month, Sapient Heuristics weekly, have to attend company meetings twice-monthly, so there's always been enough time to go 'there', but I've always felt like it'd be sort of an intrusion? Even if it was all Tamamo's idea, those people know each other, you know?" 'Oh yeah. Yeah! We could really spend tons of time here. It'd be so fun to go eat somewhere.' "Well, if you're that excited, I can see if I can get a special reservation~" Lilian says. She's already thinking about how incredibly cute it'd be to go to the specific restaurant she originally took her new Paladins allies to on her first week on the job, but with Petra. 'They quickly understood my top-notch personal character, and ensured all protocol went smoothly and comfortably! See? They provided me a sticker to indicate such!' Lilian has neither the heart nor the inclination to tell Matilda anything that'd make her less excited about her surveillance state greeble. "I'm very glad to hear that." Lilian says, smiling like Matilda is just such a good girl, without even a trace of the fact that half the people in this entire city know not to fuck with Lilian Rook. 'Ahh, I, I was not expecting the Twenty-First Century to be so, well, quaint and picturesque outside!' "The First Circle here is built around former Scarborough. It's largely historical construction here; which makes it quite popular. If you head further west," Lilian points, as if the ocean doesn't make it clear enough. "You'll find the more modern construction." She looks Matilda up and down a couple of times, pausing to decide whether that outfit would potentially draw negative attention from the filthy working class. Jury's still out, it seems. 'Hm! Well, of course there would be much to discuss, and whatever time to make such direct connections, so, so a brief stop for dinner is simply responsible!' "It's all but standard practice for liaison work, you know. I guarantee you that Foundation diplomats have dinner with officials everywhere they go." Lilian says; knowingly instead of panderingly, actually. "You might as well get used to it, now that you're working for the FDMO. It's common wisdom that people are more agreeable with food in front of them." 'But, er, by what sort of stop do you mean, for that which is opportunistic?' But, hmm. This might be kind of difficult. Matilda is in star-struck tourist mode, but she's also such an incorrigibly strait-laced good girl that it'll be difficult to justify much more. She skims the paperwork she's handed, speed reading while using most of her brain to think about the more pressing issue, regarding blonde girls. "The sort where we catch the right people at the right time of day, and thus get a more favourable reception." she decides on, eventually. "I've set our itnerary to start early for that exact reason. So, for instance . . ."
Lilian Rook	Third look up and down. That's a good enough excuse. "For instance, seeing as I'll be asking you to actually examine the goods, it'd behoove you to have one or two items that suggest you're familiar with them, rather than leaning exclusively on the Foundation uniform. It's very professional, but it also screams 'not from around here'." She looks over at Petra, silently soliciting backup with her eyes. "If you'll pick out . . . let's say an accessory and a piece of suitable winter-wear, they'll be more likely to take you seriously as my consultant, rather than think they might be able to take you for a ride." Lilian says, in a tone as if she were tapping her temple, imparting sagely tourist knowledge. She isn't putting it up for debate either. She waves Petra after her, though surely she doesn't need to bother, as she pushes open the front doors and takes a deep breath of winter air that's much too unusually crisp for a city of close to half a million people. The snow is light enough that the upper class have made (hired) an effort to clear it away where it's wasting their real estate; the walk out swirls down a little hillside still covered in green, leaving snow only on the benches by the stone walk and the gravel garden buffers from the road; which is itself, practically empty compared to what should be average for 21st century urban life. More people move about on the stone paths that run between the tapestry of historical buildings than on the more modern concrete paths that've been paved into the snowy stretches of twisty coastal hillside, passing by each other on foot or electric bike, coming and going from storefronts lining all the streets that can see the road; itself a very clear distinction. Partway down the steps, Lilian glances at the several corners she'll have to take to get onto the grid she wants to be at; a plaza away from from the meticulously restored Grand Hotel, now a government building, obvious only by banners and flags and lights. Then, she casually makes the decision to walk right off them and half-slide down the snow to the pavement at the bottom, adjusting her hair by impulse as if she'd done something slightly undignified and were also perhaps a cat. The traffic coming from the Warpgate hub is little more than a trickle anyways. The terminal building, from the outside, is constructed to resemble the rest of the First Circle, but doesn't quite get it right. Once you're on the streets, flanked by old-fashioned lamp posts (burning warm-tinted LEDs) and glass-fronted stores with proudly maintained hanging signs, immersed in the chatter of Friday pedestrian traffic, it has an obviously different air to it all. Sure, if you look around closely, you can spot a shockingly high number of barely-subtle cameras mounted on practically intersection, and of course there isn't exactly a shortage of live digital signage, including the odd standing-touchscreen map or animated bus stop billboard, but it's all added on top. So much care has gone into keeping everything from door knockers to roof tiles absolutely shiny that it still oozes a sense of infectious, quaint excitement about it all, as if everyone here were enthusiastic to have a street view like this; even if the datedly baroque wooden doors and iron path fences look similar, it's much different from the professional minimum effort of a federal utility building. And it's not as if everyone on the street recognizes, or even notices Lilian, either. The ones who drift close are mostly alerted by her flash hairpin, and give a little extra space subconsciously. Despite coming here with two total strangers, she still seems in her element.
Lilian Rook	Though Matilda can window browse all she likes, Lilian also happens to have a first stop specifically in mind. Closest to the terminal, savvy owners have taken to setting up outdoors coffee shops and bistros, small breweries, upscale jewelry and handcrafts galleries, and other various attempts to appeal to visitors with family name and prestige appeal. Further away, however, in the direction marked by an ancient castle silhouetted on a forested hill, the cast of it all changes slowly but surely. Here's a shop where there entire front window is taken up by artfully stacked shelves of glittering crystals and powdered metals, advertising generations of passed down knowledge regarding the particulars of alchemical grading and ley-lines. Over there is a store with an angled roof and enormous sunlight to service the thriving greenhouse branded euphemistically as 'local import', coquettishly letting passers-by glimpse silver apples and spiny glen grass. It's strange, that in this direction, the number of heavily armed police actually increases, but surely that's nothing. Matilda and Petra are guided into a corner boutique stands out mostly for a triangular cross-view of outrageously intricate brooches, cufflinks, and hairpins, rather than the nice-but-traditionalist scarves and coats they're pinned to on mannequins. The moment the bell rings inside, a middle-aged woman (more blondes? dangerous) glances around the corner to the back, then comes hurrying right out when she sees who it is, getting as far as "Oh my dear! How long has it been? It feels like just yesterday you were in here with that classy tourist of yours, but I could swear you've gotten taller! Goodness, look how you've--" She skims over Matilda and looks right at Petra instead, halting mid-sentence, visibly confused, and five percent of the way towards 'hit a silent alarm'. Lilian waves Matilda further in to go and rifle through the offerings, and drifts near to the counter to firmly cement her place belonging here. "What a pleasure to see you're still working. The eldest still isn't interested?" Lilian says. "I suppose I came alone the last few times, though; that 'tourist' is a permanent resident now." Relieved for any excuse to not address Petra directly, the woman stoically ignores her, and defaults to all smiles for Lilian. "You're not smuggling in another one already are you love?" Lilian shakes her head, and on it goes. "No, no. Miss Bouanich here is a federal consult, so I advised here in particular if she plans to get dressed for dinner, so to speak." While the chummy prattle goes on, the rest of the place unfolds surprisingly deep. It's practically unmonitored; if there are cameras, they're very well hidden. Everything on display is for display; there are no racks to take anything off that could possibly require a measurement; so custom order only for anything other than a very pretty scarf or nice leather gloves, unless of course one is looking for glasswork or crystal embellishment that possesses the cute little gimmicks of reacting to magical energy like sunlight, housing an absolutely itty bitty sealed-terrarium for a single rare plant, or animating on-command to clasp and unclasp.
Petra Soroka	"Where do they get off demanding four hours for a single class?" "Well, there's supposed to be, like, group sections and independent sections and stuff built into that," Petra chatters along, basking in the positive attention of receiving verbal response to things happening in her life. "Four hours in a row is kind of a huge chunk of my day, but as long as they're not expecting me to do another four hours of homework outside it then I'll manage. It's not like I'm not interested in spending the time, or anything." ". . . but I've always felt like it'd be sort of an intrusion?" "I don't think..." Petra starts to airily reassure Lilian, but the topic of the Blooms naturally seizes enough of her mental real estate that she internally reviews her emotions and words before saying them aloud. In this case, that means considering the content of the reassurance and the feelings that went into its creation, and then suddenly getting emotional vertigo and trailing off. Trying to hide how suddenly winded she is, Petra eventually continues with a small wince, "... I really don't think either of them would mind you being around more. I think they'd both like it a lot. And that sort of outweighs anyone else's opinion to me, so, you know. It'd be really sweet." "So, as for input, that is what I must give, on behalf of the St. Pavlov Foundation, mm-hm!" Petra doesn't really care about this! It's fine, she guesses, for the St. Pavlov Foundation to get medicine and walkie-talkies or whatever. She's sort of ringing up the Manus Vindictae's safehouse to talk to their darling haunted girlie regularly, but she doesn't really bear any ill-will to the concept of people trying to keep the world from being destroyed having adequate medicine. That's just a lot of busywork, which she won't dedicate any mental resources to right now. Instead the focus is on Matilda! Petra springs up from her chair, tea rising more smoothly in the grip of a shimmery metal ring so that it doesn't spill, and orbits around the other two girls, sticking close to Lilian's side to radiate agreement with her before splitting off again to wander. "It's very professional, but it also screams 'not from around here'." Support from Petra comes diligently and promptly, in the form of an overly long ramble that she means much more sincerely than was necessary to actually support her point. "The presentation that you show the world is the first and most important factor in who you are as a person in that context, regardless of anything you actually do. People make a million assumptions off of you for invisible things that you usually aren't even consciously aware of, and they'll decide how to treat you almost fully off of that. Not only will they be able to tell that you're an offworlder, and that you're young and not that experienced, and that you're super invested in getting good results from them, just from your uniform, but they'll get all of that off of your attitude too. So even just spending time here in order to acclimate to the atmosphere and everything will make a difference."
Foundation Scions	"Eh? Petra! Is that gemstone bracelet a new charm you've found for yourself? Show, show it here!" Matilda hovers excitedly over the cluster of little rocks, transfixed by a simple bauble. "The arrangement and order, it is for, clarity in... heart, dreams, intuition..." She mumbles off, not quite getting at the core of any of it, but still fascinated by the rocks. "It is very nice! Is it your friend's handiwork, the one who you mentioned? It is another gift?" 'The First Circle here is built around former Scarborough.' "Oh! That, is a town I have heard of!" Matilda seems proud of this. Why. 'You might as well get used to it, now that you're working for the FDMO.' "Mm-hm, it is certainly a known wisdom! You raise an excellent point- as designated liason to multiversal affairs, I suppose I am somewhat of a diplomat! More of an ambassador, really!" She better not start calling herself that. "One of the many ceremonial duties assigned to the likes of graduates of the SPDM is, in fact, to accompany dignitaries and diplomats to meetings and dinners, as bodyguards and representatives! It is quite a well-regarded institution, in such settings... ah, et si elle m'accompagnerait..." Sonetto. Sonetto's the one who has to do that duty. Maybe others in the SPDM's past have, and many have become clerks and guards to important figures, but it's so obvious where her mind is. 'It's very professional, but it also screams 'not from around here'.' There are two wolves inside Matilda Bouanich. One, is the wolf that does not want to look, actually, like she is from England- it is currently being eaten alive by the wolf that says she wants to belong and have people pay good and correct attention to her. As such, she nods along attentively, even if she is pained by the idea. "Hmmm.... if, you think it best, then, then I suppose that does not sound like an inadvisable strategy! I, I would most certainly not want to be taken for any sort of unwanted ride!" 'So even just spending time here in order to acclimate to the atmosphere and everything will make a difference.' This makes Matilda balk, though. "To acclimate? Ms. Petra, I am on duty, with somewhat strict time considerations to such! I, er, I do not believe there would be adequate time budgeted to simply do such a thing, if we are to complete the required itinerary! Unless you mean, for but a very short while? I do not want them to falsely assume I am inexperienced!" The marvels along the fancy shopping street catch Matilda's eyes too much, of course she's drawn to the jewelry displays, of course she's drawn to the crystal reagent shop. It's a matter of extreme restraint she doesn't leave fingerprints (and faceprints) on the windows she's browsing. She mutters something about her family's shop being better at the sale of crystals, that's a required sentiment, but said specifically so she can turn her nose up and away from wanting to look around it. Matilda does, actually, eye the presence of police- this is, somewhat, of an arcanist-shop feeling district, despite being so fancy, and, obviously, being in a different world, but it's relatively normal for there to be more police around such places!
Foundation Scions	Shop time!!! She's happy to be inside, where it's a bit warmer, and gosh if there isn't excellent jewelry here, too! Not that she needs a new brooch, hers is special, and will Not be getting a competitor. But, innocent and oblivious to the strange back and forth of the shopkeeper with Lilian, she goes to ooh and ahh over the mannequin displays. "Smuggled..?" Okay, maybe she's eavesdropping a bit to mutter that. Half-whispering Lilian's way, Matilda pipes up- "Ms. Rook..? I, er, must question, if this is the sort of place to provide custom-made outfitry," That's not a word. She's whispering quieter, "Is that not counter-productive to the intents of a proper disguise for today? Ah, un accessoire, et un vêtement d'hiver..." As such, this has her gravitating towards ready-made scarves, within which she is unfortunately looking for one to match the Monitor Assistant tie-and-ribbon pattern of red with gold diagonal pinstriping. That's only increasing the uniform-ness. Oh no.
Lilian Rook	'Four hours in a row is kind of a huge chunk of my day, but as long as they're not expecting me to do another four hours of homework outside it then I'll manage. It's not like I'm not interested in spending the time, or anything.' "Lord, I'm not so certain that I'll ever quite understand the idea. 'Homework' means something else entirely to me." Lilian says. "If they've let you home then it's to keep the family happy by leaving them ample time to teach you the trade and Tradition as well. Nobody would send their heirs to a school if it were only going to genericize them at the best time to learn." 'I don't think...' Lilian wears an oddly fretful look at the moment Petra pauses to think. She knows that it means Petra is thinking really hard. The answer sets her at ease again, though her sigh is tinged with a hint of weary resignation all the same. "Well. I trust you." Lilian says, and manages not to sound surprised. 'People make a million assumptions off of you for invisible things that you usually aren't even consciously aware of, and they'll decide how to treat you almost fully off of that. Not only will they be able to tell that you're an offworlder, and that you're young and not that experienced, and that you're super invested in getting good results from them, just from your uniform, but they'll get all of that off of your attitude too.' Lilian proceeds to space out, unfathomably deep in thought, as she reviews almost her entire upbringing in ultra fast-forward. Of course it's just obvious that Petra is correct. She was just about to verbally agree with her. But her look of recollection makes the corner of her lips twitch unhappily. "That's correct. As a uniformed professional, you have to avoid appearing as a lower-ranked clerk with no autonomy. Accessorizing your uniform indicates sanctioned autonomy and self-assuredness. Keep a clipboard out of your hands or you'll look like you're passing on a report; the assumption has to be that your word alone is gold. If anyone asks about what you do, you should talk about your family first and the Foundation only in broad strokes." 'The arrangement and order, it is for, clarity in... heart, dreams, intuition... It is very nice! Is it your friend's handiwork, the one who you mentioned?' "Cute . . ." Lilian whispers under her breath. 'One of the many ceremonial duties assigned to the likes of graduates of the SPDM is, in fact, to accompany dignitaries and diplomats to meetings and dinners, as bodyguards and representatives!' "Ah, I recall Sonetto saying something like that, now that you mention it." Lilian stops to double check her memory, mostly for performance, fingertip to her lower lip. "Well, if you're familiar with it like she is, then I'll simply trust you to handle it." Stolen valour already!
Lilian Rook	'To acclimate? Ms. Petra, I am on duty, with somewhat strict time considerations to such! I, er, I do not believe there would be adequate time budgeted to simply do such a thing, if we are to complete the required itinerary!' "Then acclimate quickly." Lilian says, and turns fast enough to hide her rolling her eyes. . . . . . . . . The police seem like egregious overkill. There's absolutely no way they need military body armour, much less rifles. It's even more confusing for the fact that they almost unanimously appear to recognize Lilian; most stoically avoid looking, letting one identify the rookies by watching who turns to ask when she passes. 'Is that not counter-productive to the intents of a proper disguise for today? Ah, un accessoire, et un vêtement d'hiver...' "You won't find anything worth buying off a shelf. That's common knowledge." says Lilian, completely out of touch with reality. "Besides, you don't want to cover up the uniform. You want to present yourself as someone high enough up the ladder that they can't be scolded about 'uniform codes' for tastefully upgrading their look. There are other places we can go, but I can vouch for this one's quality; I got Tamamo's first winter-wear from here." Okay that is a vote of confidence.
Petra Soroka	"Show, show it here!" Matilda's eagerness is stunningly endearing. The world Petra's used to is one where no one shows interest in anything at all and just blandly accepts anything happening in their vicinity as long as it's not a girl being a little too mean to them, and so having a piece of her outfit noticed, that she thought about but didn't specifically bring attention to, clears a bar that is altogether too low. Petra lifts up her arm and turns her wrist over to show the bracelet off to Matilda. She loosely pushes the crystals around to rotate the bracelet, dimly smiling. Finger on the lapis lazuli, "Val, you mean? Nah, she didn't get it for me. That'd be..." They're certainly not back to 'gift-giving' levels of familiarity. "But she's more of an expert on it all than me, so I did ask for her suggestions. I just thought it'd be cute and stuff, after remembering it and all when we talked about it back at the museum." She holds it up, clear, opalescent, blue, and foggy green. "It's pretty, right?" 'Hearts, dreams, and intuition' is half of it. The other is 'moving on, recovering what was lost, and healing from unhappiness'. "To acclimate? Ms. Petra, I am on duty, with somewhat strict time considerations to such!" Petra waves her hand dismissively. "Like-- like a few hours, obviously. Yeah, just a short time. You just can't look like it's your first time stepping into the world like you're a baby tourist or something. See, like, a reaction like that; you're literally so on-edge. Maybe we get you the stuff you came here for after dinner, and burn time getting you relaxed until then?" Petra is so so so aware that she is a criminal here, as the group starts out into the urban center, but since she's here with Lilian, none of that really matters. Thou shalt treat with the laws of the land in good faith, but the laws of Lilian supersede them, as it goes. She doesn't even really expect to be recognized, given how little of her visual design is similar to how it was when she committed the crimes that she got in trouble for back then. The girl from that video wouldn't ever be scampering down steps after Lilian, hopping lightly into the snow to eagerly catch up and stay close. So when they get to the shop, she's all but forgotten about the risk of that. She's rubbing her bare arms (because they did get cold in the snow) and chattering when they enter. "I feel like I've spent so long in the City that I don't even think about wearing much jewelry most days anymore, and that's kind of horrible. I should fix that and be the prettiest person in the entire City-- well, except when Lilian's at the Association-- and..." Petra trails off and stiffens up when looked at by the shopkeeper looks at her in that particular way. Wincing almost apologetically, she falls abruptly quiet and moves slowly, like she's trying not to spook a cat. When Lilian deftly gets her ignored instead, she sighs and droops her shoulders, resolving to not wander off on her own in the store.
Lilian Rook	'I feel like I've spent so long in the City that I don't even think about wearing much jewelry most days anymore, and that's kind of horrible. I should fix that and be the prettiest person in the entire City-- well, except when Lilian's at the Association-- and...' "Strive to be the hottest woman at the grocery store." Lilian says, a tiny bit facetious, but too fond of the sentiment to not mean it. "By which I mean to never let the people around you encourage you to lower your bar. It's an insidious poison because it feels like 'relaxing' rather than 'atrophy and decay'. She shoots a look Petra's way when she slumps her shoulders and slinks off, but her frown doesn't seem to be directed at her. "Bouanich? Oh my, are you deployed in France again?" "No, no, nothing of the sort. I wouldn't have the time to come here if I were." "Haha, I suppose that's true! God only knows how you know how you keep finding these, then?" "These?" "Oh you know, foreign women who need that helping hand up." "I see." "Oh no dear I think the world of you for always helping them! I'm more than happy to know that my little shop can be somewhere safe to take them!" "You're too kind. It's really nothing like that." "Mm, if you say so love." "I did mention that she's a federal consult." "Oh right you are! And darling as a duckling too; a difficult mix, that! Marriage talks or a buyout? If you don't mind my asking." "Oh you could certainly call it a buyout, though it was my idea in the end. And you know. So . . ." "Oh you may as well! I know this sort of thing is all handled by pretty young girls nowadays!" "Thank you. We'll browse a bit before tea and I'll come back to tall fittings in the evening." "A pleasure. And the other one?" "Beg pardon?" "The one who isn't Miss Bouanich, dear." "What about her?" ". . . Just don't do anything to put your neck out too far, alright love?" "I don't have the inclination. I see that we have some catching up to do, too." Revealing absolutely nothing explicit, somehow, Lilian comes away from the counter looking a little stiff and sour. She browses through tiered rows of fashionable greebles like a meditative mind-clearing exercise more than anything, eventually rejoining Matilda, having found an annoyingly matching scarf, without comment. She turns up herself with a pair of buff buttons that have a very similar blue-diamondine glitter to them as Matilda's tie clip, though they'd fit where dull brass buttons are currently on her sleeves; she seems satisfied by seeing that the blue gets brighter near Matilda, where they'd previously been almost blacklight coloured when she first picked them. "Petra? Have you picked something?" Lilian says, only once she's moving towards the counter with Matilda's scarf in tow. She hadn't said anything like that or offered Petra a thing before coming in, so the owner double-taking at her is probably the point. "We'll start with the humanitarian contract after this. We're just coming up on the solstice, so it's the perfect time to talk about reserving the crop of winter materiel. Bouanich, might I convince you to get dressed in the next half-hour?" She's being pushy and show-off-y on purpose.