Scene #9521: White Woman Spotted

Owner	Pose
White	White... Really doesn't know how to arrange for a normal meet-up. This is only the second time someone's visited her apartment from 'work', and while she has the benefit of the decorating she did last time it's still not a very impressive home. She's always a little peculiar, but it probably stands out a little bit more for Schneider, today. First, Schneider was sent probing questions about her availability. A few hours later after a time was decided on, White sends her directions to a warpgate in some version or another of Yokohama, in what might be described kindly as a 'quiet suburban nook' mostly occupied by apartments, tiny restaurants, and novelty locations. "I'd like to talk about some sensitive matters. I have something in mind for dinner, too, so please look forward to it." she says in the message. White meets Schneider at the gate upon arrival, in a longer version of her usual dress with a rather mismatched but comfy plaid beret warming her head, her mended fake fur-trim jacket and wearing her hairbraid wrapped around her neck like a scarf again. Rather than teleporting the both of them to her home, she decides to walk the relatively short way on foot with Schneider; she wants her to be able to find her way back and forth on her own, if needed, and the route isn't very complicated. There's a recognizable milkshake shop along the main street away from the gate, plus a few multicultural restaurants and souvenir shops; most of the latter are really leaning into Christmas aesthetics already, with lights and such already put up. The apartment building itself is a little hard to notice from the main street, since it's so plain. The parking lot barely has any cars in it, the vending machines under the center stairwell are almost fully stocked, and White comfortably leads the way upstairs to the third floor and down several doors along the narrow concrete walkway, conjuring her apartment key into her palm and gently unlocking it. At least the view from over the rail here isn't bad, if you like watching people... But there's no front window. Leave it to a spider to live in a hole.
Schneider Greco	"I'd like to talk about some sensitive matters." The words roll nonchalantly in Schneider's head over the following hours. Why couldn't White just say what this is about? She doesn't worry herself overmuch, but her instincts furnish several possibilities. Option 1: The Concord has new, delicate work for its littlest assassin. Option 2: She is being lured out alone to be killed. Option 3: Ariel wants to confess her love. Option 4: White's really mad that Ariel wants to confess her love. Option 5: This is about Angela giving Schneider those pages. There's no particular reason to suspect #2. White's nice. It's just a possibility when one's invited out to a strange remote location for anything. One can't spend one's life worrying about such things, so Schneider doesn't. Besides, it wouldn't be the first time. If there's a bit of tension in the body Schneider calls home, it's because of #5. The wrapping on that small, glimmering-eyed mammal is the same as always: red plumage that should leave her pale flesh to goosebump in the winter air, but doesn't; and a black coat for a scrap of decency and authority. The jewelry alone is a little scaled-back; she doesn't have the silver snake arm-circlet. "My-la-dy White," she says smoothly, lifting her head from the way she'd ducked it through the Warpgate. "Mhmhm, so you are the type for hats al-so? So dashing..." That someone might just wear a hat because it's cold is foreign to her. . . . There's a thunk from behind White as they pass by the vending machines, and suddenly Schneider's holding a can of beer despite definitely not having local money. "What things they do with cars now," she murmurs of the garage rather than comment. And, in just the same way, in the second White turns her back to unlock the door, Schneider sees fit to swing her thighs over the railing and perch on it, almost birdlike, to stare down at the city... But of course, she follows when beckoned inside.
White	Meeting at the gate, White seems to hesitate just a little seeing Schneider dressed as she usually is in the gradually more chilly air. It leaves her looking through her eyelids, a slight tilt sneaking into her neck before she soon discards that concern as she often does to move on to other matters. "... Not usually." she answers about hats, reaching up to adjust her own; she doesn't quite seem to know what the 'right' way to slant it is. "I'm trying... Things out. If you're ready, then..." she trails off, turning to lead the way. She seems to turn her head partway back, as if to make sure Schneider isn't getting lost behind her as they go. In front of her apartment, she stands with Schneider a moment to gaze down from above; there are a few kids on their way home from school, a pair of day-drunk salarymen laughing and stepping into the batting center, and they can hear distant music being played from someone's car radio down the street. It's not noisy, but it's lived-in, as far as neighborhoods go. "... I'm not very... Fond, of cars." White finally admits, thoughtfully looking lower, into the parking lot from above. But, they can't linger there forever, or the food will scorch. Inside White's home as she opens the door, Schneider is first hit by the smell of a lidded cookpot full of spicy curry simmering away; looking inside she can see the small kitchen on the right just inside the entrance, with only a countertop separating the 'entrance hall' if it could be called that, from the kitchen itself. There's a few little glass bowls with snap-seal lids on them, holding things like rolled omelettes, sliced beets, extra curry powder, some little breadsticks, diced ham... There's a pretty good variety, though not all of it particularly makes sense with the curry in mind. There's a tablet propped up near the tiny stove as well, with the recipe pulled up and the screen dim from inactivity. A couple of White's 'agents' are skittering along in the kitchen, cleaning up with little rags while one very carefully dangles in front of (not over!) the stove from a web-strand, periodically lifting the lid and very awkwardly trying to stir the contents with a big spoon. Not having thumbs is hard... Past the kitchen though, Schneider can see the little 'living room' with a low table in the center, a desk in the corner with a PC setup on it, and a pair of foldout tables against the adjacent wall; normally those would be cluttered with extra phones and tablets, but White has at least packed them into a cardboard box and tucked them under one of the tables on the floor for today, albeit open-topped and visible. There's a big office chair that she usually uses at her desk, a couple of small beanbag chairs around the little table in the middle of the room, and one normalish wooden dining-room chair beside the folding tables. The walls have a few magnetic portrait mounts with printed photos of a high-angle scenes, pictures originally taken on White's phone from the tops of buildings in the City, or from some of her other little adventures with Audrey like on the shuttle-ride down toward the Vex Pyramid. Between those, there's some spider plushies of her own making stuck to the walls like they're crawling around, to fill some of the gaps, and frame the widescreen TV that's mounted on the wall rather high up. There's one window on the back wall, but it's curtained with a thick sheet of webbing so that only dim light comes through from outside. There's a little hall to the left with the washroom, storage closet, and laundry closet doors, and then a door on the right that leads to White's lightly-used bedroom.
White	Inviting Schneider inside with a light wave of her hand, White gently shuts the door behind the both of them and softly suggests, "Get comfortable... However you like." She then micro-teleports straight into the kitchen, beginning to reach into a cupboard for some ceramic plates, gently brushing her spiderlings out of the way as she moves. She begins to plate rice and ladle curry for the both of them, keeping the pot on low heat for now. Each plate is teleported to the table in the middle of the room, and White then carries the packaged sides and toppings from the kitchen in one tall stack between her hands, to lay them out for easy access. She goes back one more time for silverware, setting a set beside Schneider's plate while holding her hair back to keep it out of the food, then settles in across from her and sits on her knees. The food is good, at least, as long as Schneider isn't bothered by the curry. It's not high class cooking, just a recipe off the internet, but White did her ingredient prep carefully and properly. Some of the 'catfish' she sent to Schneider recently is in one of the sealed containers too, if she has a taste for the savory-sweet fish. White takes a few seconds to taste her own cooking, and diverts to try it with a bit of egg added before she swallows and attempts to start actually talking, almost murmuring at first from behind a napkin as she dabs her lips. "I wanted... To apologize. And to explain... A few things." She looks down at her plate thoughtfully, evidently still fishing for the right phrasing even now after days to prepare. "I understand... You were anxious... When you visited Miss Angela. For a good reason. It's time to get you... Into the loop, I think."
Schneider Greco	"Japan is, mmmh, quite diff-er-ent than I'd heard of it," Schneider says of the signs of life around-and-below, kicking her heels lazily from her railing perch. "Such things a century will do." By the time her world comes to this, she thinks, she'd be nearly a hundred-twenty. "... How strange, to see what comes af-ter me. This is, mhmhm, a rare privilege... is it not?" She breezes in when the door's opened, still swishing the unopened beer can in her hand; the adorable interior- color photos!! the little dumpling-spiders!!- makes her gasp, and then that breath turns into a longer inhale. "Oh, you are spoiling me, my-la-dy," she breathes, stepping out of her shoes and then slipping over to the stirring-spider's side. "What is this? Mmh, cumin and black pepper, but some-thing else... your stew is warm like the summer. Little omu, may I stir for you?" Her slight wariness is forgotten for a moment as she commandeers the spoon and gives it an expertly from-the-wrist swirling, scraping the pot's bottom to make sure none burns. "Ah, but I-am sorry; you are doing your best for her," returns the spoon to the spider. Schneider glances back, confiding her affection to White with a smile. 'Getting comfortable', for her, means flopping onto a beanbag chair with atrociously lounging posture and wiggling to get comfy. "Inviting someone in for home cooking" slots so neatly into her catalogue of social situations that she forgets the list of reasons why she might be here, until... "I understand... You were anxious... When you visited Miss Angela. For a good reason." Schneider's fingers stop, just touching for the first time her spoon. Her thumb and index finger rub together as they retreat, and she leans back a little on the beanbag. Ah. Right. This is number five. "I would-not say 'anxious', my-la-dy." The smokiness leaves her; neutrally businesslike, slight-eyebrow-raised. "It was... delicate. What 'loop' is it, that I have been put out of?"
White	When talking about the effects of a century, White almost seems like she isn't going to comment, before murmuring, "I didn't think... I would see it again. I was... Almost surprised... It hadn't changed more... While I was away." She pauses again, and very slightly shakes her head. "... 'What comes after'... I think... A simpler life is good." Inside, the stirring-spider briefly perches on Schneider's shoulder while she's commandeering the spoon, body lifting and then relaxing as if trying to mime a deep breath that spiders don't really have the anatomy to take. One little leg comes up to pat-pat the side of Schneider's jaw, and then it takes over its appointed task again as the guest is on her way. White watches this without comment, seeming distantly thoughtful behind her closed eyelids. She rouses once Schneider is seated, nodding slightly as her mood shifts, like she's dutifully confirming another thing on an invisible list. The food was an attempt at a calming gesture, of course, but she wasn't expecting it to fully smooth the conversation. A gesture is just a gesture, sometimes. What matters more is... To begin with what Schneider wants to know first. It's easier to follow Schneider's direction, in this, than to try and keep a neat little speech in her head without stumbling over it. "... I've been trying to... Arrange to ensure your safety. But... My results have been... Unfortunately poor. Originally... I wanted to create... A 'safety net' for you... Without your knowledge. Just in case..." White pauses, tempted to stop the sentence there, but inhaling and pushing through the awkwardness of having to share her assumption. "Just in case... Your position within... The Manus, wasn't secure. I have... Reservations... About some of what... I've seen. As far as I can tell... You have few allies."
Schneider Greco	Schneider's lips press in some compromise between a sad smile and thoughtful frown. Her glittery eyes half-shut, sliding off to the side. "You mean to say, White," she says, "that you were al-so think-ing, to betray me to the Foundation 'for my own good'." Her lips part, and she breathes out in a sigh some of the electric energy that she'd brought to bear against Angela. She can't find the same desperation now. "I ap-pre-ci-ate, my lady, your ad-mit-ting this. Of-course I feel some temptation to scold you." One hand plucks at the beer can's tab, twang, with a nail. The other slides down her own body until it finds the holster at her hip, and then smooths a wrinkle out of her jacket where it overlies her gun. "To say, 'am I a child, that I cannot steer my own fate'? ... But you know this." Her lips draw more towards a smile, if a slightly unsettled one. "It was un-wise, but you did it to be kind. And you tell me now, as kindness too. And you make this stew..." Finally she lifts the spoon. It hovers near her lips. It smells nice... but her eyes drift up to White, still smiling sadly. "Do you think I should be angry with you, my-la-dy? I do-not know. But, I do not think I want to be." Thoughts about her situation, and its precarity, are close to her lips but wait for now.
White	"... No. Not exactly." is where White begins to answer that first supposition, and it comes both easily and clearly without her seeming particularly surprised, or offended. It must have crossed her mind, but... "I... Assume... That if you could have... Secured your, or your family's safety... Through the Foundation... You may have tried already. Or deemed it... Impossible. And ultimately... I have no intention... Of robbing you of your choice." This is something she's thought a lot about, after all. How to help people that she wants to, without disrupting them or being responsible for them forever. She reaches to the side slightly and teleports a can of Dr Pepper- one of the leftover Vanillas from when she sent Regulus some of the modern flavors- and pulls the tab to crack it open, letting it settle on the table without sipping just yet. "... What I wanted to apologize for... Was something else." White isn't sure if it'll make sense, or if it even matters, but it feels somehow important. She's looking at the soda can, not Schneider, as she twines her fingers in her lap and admits, "I could... Have done better. I was being impulsive. Trying to... Prove something. To myself, I think. I still have... A plan, but... It's very messy. And it comes with... No guarantee. So I'm sorry... That I don't have a... Nicer option, to offer. I'm somewhat... Embarrassed, I think. I wanted to be able to... Proudly be certain... That I could 'grant a wish', as a god... If it were something simple. Like yours." A certain amount of pensiveness has crept into White's expression that normally isn't there, and it's not clear if she's allowing it to show on purpose or if it's sneaking up on her unexpectedly. She finds this entire admission frustrating, far more than liberating.
Schneider Greco	". . ." Tchhh. "Gods are nasty things, my-la-dy." After the carbonated hiss of the beer opening, Schneider tips it back, swills half of it in one go, and then clunks it down before finally taking her curry and trying a spoonful. She smiles, pleasantly surprised, but the compliments will have to wait to be voiced. "Mmh. Un-til I met you, Lady White, I thought they must all be rotten. E-ven now you do them too much credit. The Concord, its kindness takes me off-guard. I expected allies of convenience; here I am, in your home, and your little omus are giving me such a won-der-ful soup." She's sounded confident until just then, but now she, too, has to carefully pick over her words. She holds the plate close to her chest and shrinks back in her side-lounging beanbag posture. "So, please..." Her cheek tenses. "... do not think me disappointed." Eyes away: "It is... already more than I thought, that you-would want to be 'my friend'." Stirring the rice and curry together, she finally reaches out to try some of the ham and egg with it too. "Hahh. It's very good. Thank you, my-lady. Ah, for-now, I'll try to see things through with the Manus. What is your 'backup' then? Is it with Lord Vertin? I've talked with her my-self, you know."
White	White seems a little relieved to see Schneider eating and enjoying it, and manages to look up from the can of soda at her face before nodding and taking another mouthful herself, adding some of the steamed beets in a tiny little pile atop the curry before scooping it over the rice. Chew, chew, chew, swallow, wipe her mouth... It'd be a wonder if she manages to clean her plate at this rate, but Schneider's seen her get stubborn about that before. "... I haven't met a good god. Or... At least... I haven't spoken with one." White admits easily enough after, a frequent point of exasperation for her. "D uses people... Like toys. Guliguli won't 'man up'... Even for the woman he loves. Meido is a violent cosplayer... And Sariel might... Want to hit me, even if... I manage to help her." But that's a passing complaint, and it feels a little like she's juggling Schneider's praise between her hands like a hot potato, trying to figure out what to do with it. The best she can seem to come up with for the sentiment of being friends, is a slightly quiet remark that "... I'm glad that's... How it turned out. For a while... I was thinking that it... Didn't matter, especially, if you lost your trust... For me. As long as it was... After I'd done what I could. But I think... It was bothering me, after all." She, finally and unusually, manages a very mild and natural looking smile as Schneider keeps praising the food. As if in deflection, she corrects, "It's called curry rice. There are lots... Of kinds to try. So I like it." She's still smiling when she slips in the followup remark, as if to poke fun, or maybe even reward Schneider's flattery with a new dialogue tree for later, "The Demon Lord... Is a much better cook... Than I am." It helps bouey her a bit, by the time she has to get into details. Enough that she can keep eating here and there while gathering her thoughts, between little bursts of explanation. "A very early idea... Involved Miss Vertin. But her position... Is not particularly good... Either. I didn't know... That the two of you spoke, yet. I thought you might try eventually." Stir, mix, scoop, nomph, chew, swallow, wipe. "... Perhaps... Spicier." She digresses quickly, back to the topic. "... I tried to bargain... For a lead on an ideal location, within... The Foundation's headquarters. Where a temporary 'bunker'... Could be made, in a room... That nobody would need to access. But... I effectively received nothing... For my efforts. I gave up... Some small pieces of information. Nothing... Directly relevant to... Your combat abilities. I hoped... That knowing you had family... Would evoke sympathy, from the... Unaffiliated arcanist working with Miss Vertin. The one... Who grabbed you, before. Which might give me... A sort of double-agent, within the Foundation." She shakes her head slowly. "A waste... Of time. So if we use... That plan... It would effectively be... Blindly choosing a place within the Foundation, teleporting your family there... And sealing everyone in a... Defensible room. I would be able... To access food, and so on, easily enough. But ultimately... It is still a risk. I don't completely know... What kind of counter-strategies the Foundation may have... Access to. And they have... A diviner, who might anticipate me. Taking people... To other worlds, even... In extraspatial storage... Doesn't spare them from the Storm... Or I'd just take you in here, or with the Demon Lord. And I don't... Expect to be able to pull off... This plan two Storms in a row."
Schneider Greco	"'Regulus'," Schneider breathes with a smile, sounding maybe just a sliiight bit dismissive. Yeah, she remembers. "... The thought did come to me, on my own. If I could steal a 'disc' for the Foundation, the ones they use to go to-and-from..." She gestures, as if holding a floppy in her empty hand, and then after an absent moment shakes her head. The absence keeps swelling inside her. Her eyes get further away, even as the part of 'Schneider' that moves her lips stays on track. "... Better than nothing. Thank-you, La-dy White. My fa-mi-ly, at least, they have done nothing wrong. Me... mmmh, the Foundation cannot kill me more than would the Storm, so then what is there to lose?" A tiny breathy giggle. . . . "Of course, Lord Vertin, she is the Foundation's dog. If they want me dead, she could-not save me from them. She cannot save herself. I..." . . . A surge of feeling comes up on her as suddenly as vomiting. Her whole body tenses, and then her face, and then her empty fist squeezes hard enough to dig her nails into her palm, and her spoon rattles against her plate as it trembles. She darts up to her feet, and twists as if she's going to go to the window, but... "... No. I shouldn't pity myself," she says, smoothing herself over before any bitter words can even come out. But her voice is lower and a little rougher, as if she'd cried a little without crying at all. "Many, hahh, people... are born unfortunate. You. Everyone else in my world. Those now, and those e-rased, but..." She turns back, tone softly reaching. "Why am I this little girl? Why are these my eyes, these my hands, I-- did I really live a life, my-la-dy, before the Storm made my era? Why..." All the momentum leaves her. She still has to finish the sentence, even though now she's clammy and it feels pointless. "... couldn't I have been anyone else." "I'm sorry. My-la-dy. I am set-tled now." Guiltily, she starts to return to her seat. "... The Manus, they look upon me harsh-ly, because I was not born pure-blooded. It is just one more little accident. We... can hope they'll overlook it."
White	White nods. "Regulus." Not exactly the mightiest soldier to recruit to a cause, but she was the one who at least got as far as listening. White makes an effort to keep eating while Schneider talks, but small changes in the angle of her head and the tension in her brow help show where her attention is fixed even with her eyes closed. She won't interrupt, or contradict. She hears things she relates to, but she waits, and she listens, and she thinks ever so carefully. As ever, when one can't see the right option the question becomes 'is acting better than not acting?'. She neatly sets aside her spoon and straightens up onto her feet from the floor, and quietly steps around the table to just alongside Schneider. The smaller woman might claim to be settled, but with all the business-like ease in the world, she slowly and carefully reaches to lay almost nothing but her fingertips against Schneider's shoulders and pull her loosely against her own chest. Schneider can pull away easily, and it doesn't really feel like White knows exactly how to make this feel natural either... Now speaking from over Schneider's head, White softly advises, "I... Would be angry too. I... was. It's hard. I used to throw... Tantrums, sometimes. The Demon Lord... Did too. Still does." If Schneider doesn't seem too uncomfortable, White will eventually begin to slowly stroke her hair, in that gently placating way she might for Ael or her siblings. "... You've worked hard." She waits like that a while, if Schneider allows it. Letting her vent, or relax, or maybe even just get flustered enough to be less upset. Who knows, really? White doesn't! If it makes Schneider mad, that'd be disappointing, but understandable too in hindsight... Maybe she won't, if White can keep the conversation going once Schneider's voice begins to level out and she starts to move back to her seat. White sits across the corner, instead of opposite from her when she does. "I see. That was a possibility... That I had imagined. But I didn't... Want to upset you, by asking. It helps, to know." She thinks a little while, trying to oh so nimbly brainstorm her way around a very simple yet very difficult problem, and predictably can't quite manage to solve it all at once. "Not just hope... We need to know... Who you can count on. Miss Druvis seems... Rather fond of you. Obviously, Mister Forget Me Not... Isn't. He doesn't... Seem to notice Miss Druvis's... Fondness either... Or he'd probably... Suck up to you more. That... Or he dislikes you, more than... He likes her." It's very algebraic as far as social dynamics go, but she doesn't seem confident she has the whole shape of it understood yet. "Mister Flamel... Did say something, once. It seemed like... He wanted something to do with... Your survival instinct. I've worked with him... A little, recently. He probably... Thinks something from your mind... Could be good for humanity. I don't think he's... All that attached to the Manus. He wanted to work with... The Foundation's researchers, on the Storm. But he values you." It's rough, but it's a starting point, and one that she can easily point to with practical evidence. "He's bad... With secrets though, I think. Most of the Concord... Seems to be."
Schneider Greco	Schneider is overcome by a tiny, empty-but-not-unfond giggle at the way White comes up behind her. After the first pet, she leans away from White's hair-stroking hand as if to say 'that's enough', but does so with a smile. "You need practice, my-la-dy," she purrs while looking back-and-up, taking White's wrist and placing the taller woman's arm more decisively around Schneider's own waist. So she is regaining a bit of her pluck. "It goes like this." Deeeeep breath. Hahhhh. "... I am glad I'm not the only one who tantrums. Mmh, I'd be so embarrassed. Lord Ariel, mhmhm- do not tell her this, but it sounds cute...?" When the allure of more curry finally draws her away, she sits on the beanbag chair again, but upright and closer to White. If White's still kneeling, that might just put them close to eye-level with one another. She picks at some ham with her fork, dips a tiny bit of it in the curry sauce, and chews while her appetite slowly rebuilds. "La-dy Druvis is kind," she smiles. "We do-not talk much, but, I don't-think she would leave me to die. My-lord Forget-Me-Not... he is clear my val-ue is in my use. He respects my-la-dy Druvis, or respects her pain, but... I think he thinks she's soft." "The other Manus, they sub-mit themselves to Lady Ar-ca-na. And Arcana..." Schneider keeps her smile, eyes off to the side. It's the look of a schoolgirl repeating a swear. "She is like a God." "Mister Flamel... Did say something, once." Schneider listens along as she slowly starts to clean her plate. With her figure, she can't be used to healthy portions, but she knows it's rude to come to a lady's house and then not finish. "You think, he could con-vince them I'm worth studying?" she says. "My-la-dy, I do-not like the psychoanalysts and doctors... but if it gives me a chance, of-course he may measure my skull." There's a twist of good humor in it, before she hides her face behind chugging the last of her beer.
White	White lets Schneider guide her arm, looking amusingly puzzled once it's around Schneider's waist. A brief impulse crosses her mind that has her arm tense and her knees bend almost imperceptibly before she's able to gun the thought down; responding by a spontaneous princess carry just to counter-tease would probably just result in making things weird, or Schneider one-upping her even further. Better to save that for Angela, who's a little closer to her own level. Settling down on her knees again as expected beside Schneider, White adjusts her hair a little and unwraps it from atop her shoulders now that they've been inside long enough for her to be warmed up. The braid really is incredibly long; it lays like a tail on the floor behind her like this. "She... Can be cute. I still get... Nervous, though. Since I remember... Getting punched by her, years ago." They might be close now, but it's not like you just forget getting your ass kicked, or worse, by someone. She nods though. She can keep a benign secret. Hearing Schneider's summary, White seems relatively unsurprised, and not exactly pleased to be right either. "... I humored the thought of... Trying to meet with Lady Arcana, at one point. I'd like... To learn if she has... A connection to how 'storm shelters' are made. But I had... The exact same feeling. She's treated... Like a god. And if she suspects me of something... I don't want to start a fight... That I don't know I can win... As a 'damaged' god. Especially... Since it might put scrutiny on you. The rules might be different, there... But the skill that... My Evil Eye of Analysis is derived from... Isn't always wholly effective, against other gods. Even Miss Petra... Is very hard to... Derive complete information from. It isn't worth it, right now." White lets that sit for a few moments, pulling her own plate a little closer from where she left it, and unsticking some of the rice from the plate with the spoon. "I've dealt with... 'Religion as a sword and shield'... Enough to know it's dangerous. If anything happens... You can use me as a scapegoat. If you think it will secure your position. Running away... Is what I'm best at." As for Flamel, White seems to grimace slightly as she's taking her next spoonful of 'a little of everything'. "I don't think... He's had much luck, until now... With getting Laplace to work with him again. The Concord is... Effectively blacklisted. Even though he was already... Working with them, before. But... He wants you to survive, I think. He helped before... He should help again, if it comes to it. He seems... Weirdly okay with... Acting on faith, and good intentions. We could probably... Tell him very little, and still... Have his cooperation." There's something else bothering her though, and White eventually manages to have enough food to feel like she's keeping up with cleaning her own plate (eventually), enough to reluctantly aside, "... I don't know what... You, and Miss Vertin spoke about. But it seems likely... That she and her team will... Be the first to come for the Walden. I didn't learn... Their plans, but I have a feeling... From the reactions to the information that I did share... That they already had leads they were chasing."
Schneider Greco	Schneider shakes her head about the idea of confronting Arcana; not urgently as if it were unwise, but slowly, as if the framing just weren't right. "My-la-dy Arcana, I have never seen lift a hand to struggle. Nor have I seen her hurried, or an-xious, or wary. The world... washes over her, as-if it were a dream, and she knew herself the dreamer." Her fork clinks through another bite of ham to the plate. "I can-not put a reason to my intuition- mhmhm, arcanists are often saying so- but I think that to pry into her would not e-ven break her smile." She looks away, smirking slightly: "But it might break Lord Forget-Me-Not's... mmmh, che peccato. Never-mind." "But it seems likely... That she and her team will... Be the first to come for the Walden." Schneider by now is nearly finished. Like a dutiful youngest sister, she is stacking her cheap beer can on her plate like she means to take both to the sink. "Good," she says, only mildly surprised. "Mmh, I shall try not to kill them. But how bet-ter to prove my worth to the lords? I was a-fraid the Foundation would not fight us at all."
White	"I know the type." White says, immediately left thinking about D again. How absurd is it, that White has both had a sleepover where she got her ass kicked in Street Fighter, and also burned down the house of that very same god? She doesn't expect to get that kind of leeway with other gods, particularly those of unknown nature. It was always a little comforting, knowing the rules even if you couldn't win the game... Schneider's plate is 'sneakily' taken away by a spiderling that wiggles its way underneath to carry it on their back; the spider flees at just high enough speed that it seems like it half-expected to be chased! White doesn't seem to react to this at all, which of course implicates her as another spider comes to fetch her plate as well only to be made to sit and watch her eat the last few bites. Only then does she let it get carried away! "... Intuition is important. And you're closer to her... Literally and figuratively. I've thrown away... Bodies, in the past. To just get back at someone... More personally. I almost died for real, a few times. So let's... Be careful." The matter of proving oneself, of course, is complicated. White seems to look away at the ceiling, watching the hanging fan slowly spin- oh, there are little plastic stars dangling from silk string on the fanblades. Admittedly, she just kind of starts mentally listing various crimes that aren't murder and trying to pick out ones that might sound technically impressive without doing irreversible harm to someone White thinks is relevant. "... Mmh. It feels... Stereotypical to say, but... Kidnapping?" she starts to wonder aloud, her face scrunching a little bit as she imagines the number of ways that could still get out of hand. "... In the first place... I'm not sure we'd match... The same team, militarily. But, if you... Prevented an assassination, maybe..?" She scrunches a little more. Would Forget Me Not even bother to acknowledge if his life were saved by Schneider? He seems like the type that might only say 'It's to be expected' or 'What else would I pay you for?', after all. White slumps forward a little, breaking from her straight-backed posture to rest her chin in her hands with her elbows on the table. "... I hope Miss Tamamo stays home, at least. Going by precedent... Other worlds still consider me... 'Dark aligned'. Being weak to fire... In the Labyrinth... Was unpleasant enough..."