Log:When In(dira) Doubt

2015/04/28 Breach Indira 1

Rick is just getting off break at the temporary consulate offices at the SDPA in Starguard, where Indira is temporarily set up for duties of her office until an official embassy can be formed. It's in the works. Ms. Wyndell has been running about in a panic trying to prepare all the paperwork. On her especially stressed and frazzled days, occasionally Breach may have witnessed her walking into Indira's office a nervous wreck, then walking out happy as can be with a spring in her step. She's one of those people who both love and hate their job.

Today, it turns out, is one of the days she hates. Rick can see Ms. Wyndell walking down the hall at power-walk warp speed. When her eyes suddenly fall on him in recognition, she kicks it up to ludicrous speed. "There you are! You have to hurry to catch up to her before she gets to the car! Indira thought, after that brilliant fiasco at Harrisburg, that she should go visit the neighborhood to see what the fundraising would be used for. Because apparently!" Ms. Wyndell throws her hands up in the air. "Visiting the most dangerous and off-limits neighborhood that got destroyed by the LAST alien invasion would be a great idea!" She gasps and covers her mouth so hard it makes a smacking sound. "Oh god, that sounds like I'm saying her being here is an alien invasion, doesn't it? Don't ever tell her I said that!"

Rick emerges from the break room with half a bag of craisins and an empty canister that is inexplicably devoid of any markings at all. The canister smells faintly of seltzer-y carbonation and vegetables. He doesn't make it to the nearest trash can before Ms. Wyndell is upon him, the Undead Soldier taking a half-step backward in surprise at her flustered aggression.

It takes a couple of seconds for Rick to finish processing all of the words that spill out of Ms. Wyndell's mouth. Her mouth-smacking escapade provides him vital time to digest the message. Rick blinks a few times, cocking his head to one side as he boggles at Ms. Wyndell. Finally, he claps her on the shoulders and says, "Your secret is safe."

Message delivered, Rick pivots and sprints off in the complete wrong direction for the motorpool. Instead, Rick appears to be headed for... The locker rooms? Breach reappears three minutes later, fully armored, sprinting toward the stairwell. He doesn't have time for the elevator, instead opting to simply rappel his way down the stairwell to the motorpool.

Ms. Wyndell's hand drops two inches from her mouth as Rick assures her of the security of her secret and watches him run off. As soon as he's sprinted out of view, she lets out a sigh of relief. Then suddenly makes a squeaking sound as she realizes she has to submit and file the paperwork for the embassy in thirty minutes. At the City Center courthouse. She turns and sprints (in high heels no less!) in the opposite direction Rick went.

Rick's timing is impecable. He reaches the motor pool, which has a line of identical black hovercars for dignataries, a line of other black hovercars for unmarked Starguard work, a very long line of Starguard hovervans for dispatch...the list goes on. He can spot Orlan Diaz, dressed in his black suit, tie, and driver's hat, walking towards the nicer hovercars.

Further off, outside the groundfloor parking garage near the passenger loading area, stands Indira in usual formal Asrani attire, which would be considered overly elegant for anywhere in the city. And especially for the 'Burg.

Let's be honest here, would Breach really have lasted long in the Army EOD if his timing weren't impeccable?

Breach swings between the railing and the lip of the staircase above the motorpool's landing, hitting the ground with a heavy *THUNK* of insulated boots against cold, hard pavement. He steadies himself a second before moving out into the motorpool area proper, lifting one arm so he can launch another swingline at the ceiling. Quickly Breach crosses the motorpool, landing in a jog alongside Mr. Diaz.

"Afternoon, Orlan," intones Breach, only his amiably flat smile visible from under his helmet and the mirrored orange visor that conceals the majority of his face. Slowing to proper walking speed once his swingline has retracted into his armored gauntlet, Breach folds his arms neatly behind his back as he intones, "I hear the Ambassador is making our afternoon interesting."

Orlan startles and clutches his chest for dramatic affection. "Jeezus, Breach. I thought she was going to make me leave without you," he laughs in relief. The man is somewhere in his late twenties, and his voice is only very faintly accented in times of stress.

"Yeah, man. I tried to talk her out of it. When that failed, I said we really should wait for you. She just said she didn't think it was worth bothering you. She doesn't have any clue how dangerous it is out there," Orlan just shakes his head. "Harrisburg. That sounds like a bad idea. I don't think Nicky Winters is going to just let the Ambassador waltz in there, either."

"... I thought Nicky Winters was locked up," intones Breach, nodding his head generally upward to indicate Starguard's security region. He glances over at the embassy car for a moment or two, assuming his eyes can even be seen behind the mirrored orange visor covering them. Breach rolls his shoulders and comments, "Guess I'm gonna be earning my pay today then."

Orlan just shakes his head. "Man, that's what they want you to think. But I hear she can still visit Harrisburg whenever she wants. She just says here for show. My cousin said she took her son to the clinic when he was seriously ill, and said the pale lady was there and healed him." He continues onto the car and hits a button on his keychain. The car unlocks and the engine starts up with a roar and then a hum as the hover car begins to rise up off the ground. "Maybe you can convince her to just stay in the car, eh?"

"We'll see," replies Breach as he moves easily to the rear of the car. Pausing a moment to scan over the vehicle, Breach promptly pops open the door and climbs into the hovervehicle. Whilst he is outwardly frowning at the concept of this trip, Breach is inwardly frowning at the Ambassador's attempt at executing this trip.

What? Breach can't be a frownypuss?

Orlan ducks into the driver's side and buckles up. He pulls out of the parking spot and soon pulls up to the curb where Indira is waiting. Yes, he buckled up for the short trip. He has to follow regulations after all. He unbuckles and hops out, then moves to open the door for Indira, but she ambushes him on the way.

"Orlan, I see they have assigned you to me again. It is good to reunite," Indira approaches and gives him a hug and a kiss on each cheek in greeting. Orlan coughs and fiddles with his wedding ring by rotating it idly on his finger. "Yes, Ms. Paxis. Good to see you again. Let me get the door for you. They said you wanted a driving tour of Harrisburg, yes?" He stops fiddling and opens the rear door, to reveal the surprise passenger: Breach.

Indira doesn't even notice he's there until she ducks down and slips into the car, her eyes adjusting to the change in lighting. "Oh! You're here," she says warmly. "I did not ask for security on this trip. It should just be a pleasant late trip."

Breach has his hands folded neatly in his lap as he watches Indira climb into the vehicle. He has his standard flat facial expression on as he regards Indira from behind his visor. Canting his head slightly to one side, Breach replies, "Security is a necessity when travelling through Harrisburg, ma'am. Your staff was significantly and justifiably concerned for your well-being."

So there. No ditching the bodyguard.

Orlan shuts the door and gets back into the car. To help Breach's point, he starts to pull away from the curb to make leaving Breach behind a non-option. He wants to be able to get home to his kids tonight.

Indira studies Breach's visor with a pleasant and naive dismissiveness. "This is not a public event, and it is not a place I have been to before. I don't think your Allied Champions of Earth will know I'm coming. It cannot be as dangerous as you all say, can it?"

"I agree. Allied Champions of Earth and their assorted splinter cells are unlikely to be of concern," replies Breach. He crosses one leg over the other as he regards Indira from behind the orange visor. She gets the impression Breach can't quite take his eyes off of her at the moment.

"Do your people have the concept of a ghetto?" inquires Breach, tone more intensely serious than usual. He even leans forward on his seat a bit, mirrored visor reflecting a grossly warped image of Indira in the tight space as he waits for her answer.

"Ghet-toe?" Indira repeats to see if she has the pronunciation correct. She's learning a new word today! Her slender technical collar lights up briefly, but then the lights fade out. And leave Indira with a still uncertain look on her features as some of her facial markings above her eyes try to push themselves together. "I do not understand the word. Can you please define?"

"Ghetto. From the old Polish for "kept in place"," replies Breach in a flawless deadpan. He uncrosses his legs and instead steeples his fingers on his lap, forearms resting on the butt of his gun and his knife as he regards the puzzled Ambassador.

"America became aware of the concept during World War II," elaborates Breach, "When we went to Europe to join the fight against the Nazis. In Poland, amongst other places, the Nazis kept the Jews and other ethnicities they didn't like in walled off sections of major cities. Invariably these were the worst parts of the city, wracked and ruined before the Nazis ever got to town."

Pausing a moment, Breach's helmet turns slightly to one side so he can look out one of the car's windows. Quickly Breach turns his attention back to Indira as he purses his lips, contemplating his words seriously. "The essence of the word came to America when the War ended. American cities developed their own ghettoes over time, though they weren't quite as intentionally designed. Certainly they weren't, as a general rule, walled off from the rest of the city or patrolled by guards. But they were the worst parts of the city, where crime and poverty flourished because nothing good ever made it that far down the socio-political or economic pipelines. Hell, somebody probably ripped out those pipelines and sold them for scrap to make a buck."

Indira half turns towards Breach to listen to the lesson, giving him her full attention as she clasps her hands together on her lap. The cityscape blurs past the windows as he speaks. The look on her face at the explanation is of pained sadness. "I had not yet gotten that far back in studying Earth's history. I am still learning the current situation. But it is valuable, to understand where your people came from. How far they have journeyed," she says with solemn respect.

Indira has the look of one thinking very deeply on this. And the look of someone who wants to do something about it. It's a dangerous look.

She glances out the window with a grieving expression. "And in this city? This...this is terrible. We should free them, I believe." While the language she uses suggestive action, her expression and tone indicates she plans on working out a way of doing exactly that.

"My people came from Ireland and England. That's a completely different kettle of fish and potatoes," remarks Breach. Was that a joke? I think that was a joke. Breach tells jokes? What deviltry is this?!

Breach reclines in his seat again, looking out the rear window and the side windows framing Indira. He spends several quiet moments contemplating the car's surroundings until Indira chimes in again. Shifting his gaze back toward her, Breach shakes his head a little bit.

"Harrisburg is the physical archetype of a ghetto, come to American soil. The spirit though? The spirit's All-American, regardless of what forged it."

Breach leans forward in his seat again and cocks his helmeted head just so toward Indira that it suggests he's trying to explain something important to her.

"Harrisburg doesn't care that the rest of the city doesn't care about them. They've been brought together as a community rebelling against social, political, and economic injustice levied upon them. We're going into a place that despises authority, that's been conditioned to distrust anything alien, and that has its own law. Diplomatic immunity doesn't really exist in Harrisburg. Rescuing the community from what's been done to them... That's not a Rome-in-a-day situation, ma'am."

Indira smiles softly to herself. She doesn't understand some of the vernacular, but she gets the general idea, and the weight is fully conveyed by Breach's gravitas. "That does sound dangerous place. Left to defend itself. The community has come together to rise up after their fall. They did what they needed to."

The car turns a corner and starts to enter the very outskirts of Harrisburg. It's where Newtown and the 'Burg start to blend together. "I don't understand 'Rome-in-a-day'. But with context, I think you mean time. I will be working on EArth a great many years if things go well." Or if the locals xenophobes don't manage to kick her off their planet.

Indira gazes out the window as the increasingly worsening neighborhood. The increase in grafitti and detritus is the first signal that you should probably be turning around. Fashion boutiques and cafes have been replaced with gunshops and liquor stores. "Distrust of anything alien," she repeats to herself quietly. "I suppose that is what that human meant at the fundraiser. But my people did not attack your planet or your city," she unclasps and reclasps her hands a little more tightly. As she looks off down a worse street where some Harrisburg Hellions lounge and eye the nice looking car, she asks with a touch of concern, "Am I putting the two of you in danger, coming here?" She turns her head to regards Breach's visor, and while her voice was controlled and poised, her face shows more worry than the tone did.

"Humans have survived this long by not trusting the vast group they label "Other", but by being open to the possibility of trust amongst individuals who are not a part of their local group labeled "Not Other". It's weird when you really think about it," replies Breach with a shrug, "But it's also practical, in its own way."

There is a long pause from Breach as he considers the question. Finally, Breach rolls his shoulders and sets his jaw. Indira's dealt with Breach enough to recognize this as his 'just the facts' face, which probably means the actual answer to her question is 'yes'.

"That depends on a lot of factors, ma'am, not the least of which is whether or not you opt to stop the car and exit it for a stroll around the area. Based on the 'bangers we just passed, I would strongly advise against slowing the vehicle down any more than is absolutely necessary, much less exiting the vehicle at any time before we have returned to the embassy. All other things being equal, you are not putting Mr. Diaz in any more danger than any scheduled embassy outing that has been on the public schedule for more than one week."

Funny how Breach doesn't comment on the danger posed to him. Maybe he doesn't consider this dangerous.

Indira's concerned look doesn't waver as she reads his body language and some of the tells she's come to learn."It is quite weird to think about, yes," she replies with some uncertainty.

"Bangers?" she asks as she glances out the window and...up? Like she's looking for something up in the sky. She has no clue what she's looking for. "They sound dangerous. Are the people in danger here from them?" Thankfully, Mr. Diaz isn't stopping yet. He's looking around alertly and knows what sort of trouble they are potentially in.

Breach leans to one side and peers up into the sky. Returning to his original position, Breach cocks his head at Indira. He holds that inquisitive pose for a few seconds until he seems to have regained her attention.

"What're you looking for up there?"

Nodding with his head back in the direction of the gangbangers, Breach comments, "Gangbangers. Members of a gang?" He pauses a moment, digesting her question. "Probably not if we keep moving. They're as curious about us as you are curious about them... Unless we stop. Then we become prey to them."

Indira's attention pulls back to Breach with a few furtive glances skywards again. "Bangers?" she answers with a degree of uncertainty. Her head turns to follow his nod, twisting in her seat to look again at the men.

Based on the colors, they are definitely Harrisburg Hellions. "Prey? They sound like hunters. Members of a gang. Like The Cartel?" She does not seem happy about that. "What do they prey upon? Humans? Or just invaders?"

Breach's keen vision can see one of the Hellions talking into a phone and eyeing the car, tracking it as it moves.

"Yes," replies a momentarily exasperated Breach, "Bangers. It's... I don't know. Members of inner city gangs are just called gang bangers or bangers for short."

Breach's brown eyes track toward the Hellions again. One eyebrow rises behind his mirrored orange helm and he leans toward the partition to *knock**knock* on it. Waiting until Orlan rolls down the partition a bit, Breach intones, "We need to make some turns. Hellions are up to something."

Flicking his gaze back to Indira once he's delivered his message to the driver, Breach smiles thinly at Indira. Folding his arms across his chest a moment, Breach comments, "Bangers prey on anyone that isn't part of their gang. Some gangs are more community minded, they focus their violence and mal-intent on people that aren't a part of their neighborhood community. Some gangs are more profit motivated, they prey on their own local community."

After a moment's pause, Breach inquires, "Which Cartel?"

The partition window rolls down with a whirr of motors and Orlan looks to the pair through the rearview mirror. He nods and keeps the partition down for now and starts to change lanes to make a right turn. "Are we headed back to Starguard, Breach?" he asks as he checks the streets and waits for the turn to be safe to make.

"Mr. Diaz, wait here," Indira orders politely. The look Orlan gives through the review is reluctant. His eyes flick between Indira and Breach. He's starting to perspire a little. "Shouldn't we do something about them if they're preying upon your people?" Indira asks Breach directly. "You said this place was abandoned. A Ghetto. Will marshals come to deal with them?"

At his question about the Cartel, Indira's small mouth forms perhaps the first true frown she's made in the time he's protected her. "That...is a bigger question than you realize."

"Yeah, but let's try not to show that we've made them," replies Breach to Orlan. His head swivels toward Indira as she orders a full stop. Breach's lips purse and he glances out the windows for a few seconds before fixing his gaze on Indira again.

"Ma'am, this place is abandoned by the city government. It is double abandoned by the choice of the handful of people with the meager amount of power that can be scrapped together to wield in a place like this. And it was super double abandoned by the federal and international governments long, /LONG/ before the city politicians gave up hope of having any true power here."

Gesturing with one hand, Breach continues in a measured, patient voice, "Unless you want to start an incident, the marshals aren't coming here. I understand that you want to help, I do, but you're going to shoot yourself in the foot if you try what it sounds like you're about to try."

Indira listens patiently to Breach's dire warnings. She even nods softly in agreement to what he's saying. "Thank you for your wise counsel, Breach." She looks to Orlan. "Mr. Diaz, you may return to the SDPA offices." At last! She's listening to reason.

And then...Indira opens the door and steps out of the sleek black hovercar that stands out like a sore thumb in Harrisburg. But it doesn't stick up nearly as much as the plant Alien that stepped out in beautiful evening gown attire.

Orlan's eyes go wide and he actually turns about in his seat. "Um. Ma'am? Madam Ambassador??" he raises his voice to try and call her back. Then he just gives Breach this look as Indira just looks both ways and begins jay-walking across the street towards the sidestreet that about half a dozen Harrisburg Hellions are lounging at.

Stuff's about to hit the fan.

A truck's airhorn sounds in the distance. We join Breach's rant in progress, "... me sideways..."

Breach bodily hauls himself out of the car after Indira. He pauses just long enough to lean his head back in and peer over at Orlan. One can almost see the People's Eyebrow arched on Breach's orange visor as he intones, "What are you still doing here, man? Get rolling, I'll call for pick-up."

With that, Breach heaves the limo door shut and spins around to look at Indira. He flexes his gloved hands a few times before he starts jogging after the Little Alien That (Thinks She) Could. Breach restrains the urge to say aloud anything that would confirm she is not from around these parts. Alas this leaves Breach saying nothing at all as he pursues his charge.

Yameen oft patrols Harrisburg, as trouble often originates, gravitates, or otherwise involves the burough. This day is mildly different, as she is somewhat distracted. This is unusual, with recent events causing her thoughts to be somewhat divided. Nonetheless, she moves along the rooftops which serve as a secondary highway.

The sound of horn snaps her from her thoughts and directs her attention to the street below. The gathering of Hellions are noted, but not before the very conspicuous ambassador who appears to be en route to them.

Orlan doesn't have to be told twice. "Alright, man. Be careful." Some of his accent starts to creep in from the high stress situation. As soon as the door shuts, the hovercar pulls up and makes the turn. Orlan watches the pair marching off in his sideview mirror as they become smaller and smaller. He prepares to keep on a nearby route to swing by for pickup as soon as Breach makes the call.

The Little Alien That Thinks She Could and has no idea of what she's getting into continues to stride fearlessly and with purpose towards the local oppressors of this small three block area of their turf. Her approach has definitely got their attention. One Hellion pats the other's shoulder and points out the approachers. "Get a load at those two. Where do they think they are, eh?" Two of the Hellion pull out small dime bags from their hoodies and start to open them. The others put their hands in their pockets in a threatening gesture. "Hey, pretty mama, you wearin' the wrong colors for here."

The Hellions colors are red and orange. Indira's blue skin and deep violet dress are quite the opposite. Indira's metabolic processes begin to speed up as she approaches and eyes the 'bangers. "Bangers, you are to cease hunting your own kind. This is a civilized planet. Such actions cannot be tolerated. Why do you hunt your own herd instead of protect them?" Okay, so plant culture and mammal cultures clash when it comes to translation terms? She may have just insulted them by referring to them as animals. By the looks on their faces, she definitely insulted them.

There is much to be said of the zeal and idealism of youth. There is also much to be said of the wisdom of experience. Unfortunately, the former can bring one to a poor end that prevents the latter. Yameen frowns behind her headwear and moves to the rooftop that forms one wall of the alleyway.

"This is going to be a heck of a mess," opines Breach to the air in front of him. He keeps right on trying to catch up to Indira, though now he's also trying to overtake her. It's hard to intercept fresh, piping hot servings of death for someone when you're not between them and the source of vengeful, not unjustified boatmurder.

It's not hard to catch up with Indira. She moves...slowly. Plants are rarely in a rush to anywhere. With a little extra push, Breach overtakes her and Indira, slow to react, looks to him in surprise. "Why did you leave the car?" Him doing his job must not have occured to her.

Breach hustles out in front of his employer and interposes himself between her and the Hellions gathered in the alley. Holding his empty hands up toward them in an universal 'I do not wish to fight' gesture. Tipping his head to peer at Indira over his shoulder, Breach replies, "Protecting you is my job, ma'am."

Swiveling his head back toward the Harrisburg Hellions before him, Breach offers as genial a smile as he can when the vast majority of his face is hidden behind a mirrored orange lens. He keeps those hands up in a 'Hold yer violent horses' sign as he intones, "Guys. Guys. Would $200 and us leaving in a hurry smooth over any hard feelings?"

The offer of cash peeks one guy's interesting. "I dunno," a Hellion pretends to be uncertain. "There's a lot of us here. $200 ain't much to split." This gets agreeable nods from the other Hellions, a few of which leer at Indira and make inappropriate come ons to.

Indira has trouble arguing with Breach's point. It is part of his job. The part she didn't want to have to agree to, but was required to. She stays behind Breach, but gets close and whispers too loudly, "We should not reward criminals."

Breach exhales heavily at Indira's "whisper". He keeps his eyes fixed on the Hellions as he comments, "You've got a point there. How many of you are right here? Six? Eight?"

The bold Hellion looks around. "Six."

"How's $100 a piece strike you then?" replies Breach. He keeps his right hand up in a 'Whoah Nelly' position while his other hand slowly, cautiously reaches toward a pouch on the belt portion of his combat harness. No sudden movements here, just completely non-threatening action.

The longer Indira is around, the more they leer at her. Breach's deal gets their interest. They look among each other and there's some murmuring. Finally the leader says, "Sure. For that price, we can forget you were ever on our turf."

Breach suspects he knows why there is so much leering at his client. He pops open the pouch on his belt and produces a rolled up wad of bills. Using both hands, Breach counts out $600 and holds it out to the leader of the group. What remains of Breach's rolled stack appears to be singles and fives.

"I appreciate your hospitality, guys. I'll try to make sure we don't make a habit of imposing on you in the future."

One suspects that last sentence is more directed at Indira than at the Hellions.

The self-elected leader reaches out to take the cash and counts it up. "Hmm. Pleasure doing business," the Hellion smirks. "Guess we didn't see nothin' here." Tensions among the group of Hellions subside and they look less confrontational. But still interested in Indira.

Indira stares in absolute shock as Breach pays the Hellions. She may very well be about to say something about that by the way she's taken in a breath and opening her mouth, and it'll probably negate the good will Breach just bought.

Bereft of his money, Breach turns around to face Indira. His free arm wraps around her waist as his other hand shunts his remaining money back into its pouch. There is a soft, pneumatic hiss as something fires out of Breach's shoulder. No doubt the Hellions get a second to notice that there is a fine cable connecting Breach's shoulder to somewhere up above before the internal winch starts winding to haul Breach and, hopefully, Indira up to the rooftops.

Before the words escape Indira's mouth, she's grasped and hauled along with Breach up to the rooftops, saving Breach further trouble from the Ambassador's opinions of the Hellions. She feels momentarily dazed as she loses contact with the ground, and her ability to sense things around her. "Breach, what are you doing?" she asks, but he did answer that question already earlier.

Only once he and the Ambassador are firmly planted upon a rooftop does Breach release Indira. He frowns slightly at her, head cocked to one side as he flatly replies, "Keeping you from harm, Ambassador."

Turning away to scan the surroundings, Breach works on plotting a swinging course through Harrisburg to a rendezvous with Orlan before he pulls out his PDA to dial the Embassy Driver.

"You scared the pollen out of me," Indira says as she gets her bearings on the rooftop once she's set down. The ride scared her of course, but the Hellions didn't? "Those are criminals in the street. And those were your credits." Indira seems more upset that Breach lost out on his money. "You said they prey on people. Something should be done, yes?"

"Diaz here," Orlan answers within one ring.

"Breach here. I have a clear line to that liquor store we passed on the way into the Burg. We'll meet you there in five minutes," intones Breach. He holds the line long enough to determine if he's going to need to figure out an alternate route, though he's slowly turning back toward Indira now. She can tell he's got one reddish orange eyebrow quirked under that visor of his as he regards her.

"We are doing something, ma'am. We are getting you back to the embassy so that I can figure out the proper way to explain the ecological role of gangs in the urban jungle. Clearly I have utterly failed so far."

"On it. See you in five," Orlan replies. He breaks from his holding pattern just outside Harrisburg and makes a turn to start heading back at the rendevous point.

Indira clasps her hands in front of her to compose herself. "I must not understand the language. Urban jungle?" She looks around the concrete wasteland of Harrisburg. "What good role could criminals have?" she sighs.

"Urban jungle," confirms Breach, gesturing around at the urban blight that is Harrisburg. He looks as though that should explain everything. Breach hangs up his PDA and returns it to its pouch as he steps toward Indira again. Cocking his head to one side, Breach comments, "You'll want to hang on tight, ma'am. And perhaps you should meditate upon the concept of symbiosis while we're en route to the extraction site."

Indira rubs her throat and gently taps the side of the collar with a finger. It begins to illuminate briefly as it activates. Then on certain words, it begins to illuminate in gently glowing patterns as it accepts the inputted sound waves. "Symbiosis. I will do that," she replies to that and all of what Breach said as she steps up to him. She reaches her arms up and loops them around his neck to hold on.

Breach wraps an arm around Indira when she loops her arms around his neck. He hoists her marginally off of her feet as he walks calmly over to the edge of the roof and simply steps off into infinity. An instant later, there's that pneumatic hiss and the whine of the winch inside of his suit as Breach starts swinging through Harrisburg toward the rendezvous point. It is possibly a very quiet journey since Breach is certainly not being talkative.

Indira flinches and grips tighter as he steps off the ledge, her dangling feet kicking slightly until the swingline engages and carries them off. She keeps her word and meditates on symbiosis and on Breach's earlier comments.

To his word, Diaz and the car pull up to the liquor store at the appointed time.

Breach and Indira drop out of the sky about ten seconds after Orlan Diaz pulls up in front of the liquor store. After a few seconds to ensure Indira has her footing, Breach releases Indira and steps away to pop open the rear door of the embassy car to admit her into the vehicle.

Indira finds her feet and ducks down her head to enter the vehicle, sliding in and over before buckling herself up. She continues to remain quiet and contemplative. The window divider is rolled down so Orlan can view what's going on in the back. He turns to look at Breach and wait for him to enter to get ready to pull away. "Enjoy your 'site seeing' out there?" he half grins to Breach.

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Breach pulls the door shut behind him before sliding into a seat and buckling into place. He casts a sidelong look at Indira before replying to Orlan, "It was educational." Folding his arms across his chest, Breach reclines slightly in his seat and watches Indira whilst waiting for Orlan to start driving back toward the embassy.

As soon as the door slides shut and Breach is buckled, Orlan gives a knowing smirk in response. He turns to face forward, pulls out into the road and starts driving for the fastest route out of Harrisburg, and on to the embassy. He pushes a button and the divider window rolls up again.

Indira is still in meditative silence as the car starts, gazing out of the tinted windows. Eventually, she breaks the silence. "I am sorry to have put the two of you in danger. You will be reimbursed for your expenses, of course."

"I was not in danger. You put yourself and Mr. Diaz in danger," comments Breach. He continues to stare out the windows himself, not quite facing Indira directly as he waits patiently for the other shoe to drop. There is a long pause before Breach adds, "Have you considered the implications of gangs and symbiosis?"

Indira finally turns her face away from the city and the light to look to Breach. "Mutually beneficial. They are needed in the ecosystem of the Harrisburg. I don't quite understand in what way. But...this is your planet. Your city. I should trust your counsel that it is so," she says softly, trying to hide her disappointment that gangs are necessary. But she accepts it.

"Not necessarily mutually beneficial, but also not necessarily detrimental to the overall health of the area. They prey on people, sure, but they also protect their territory from more significant or less scrupulous threats. Gangs can usually be dealt with, terrorists and super-powered sociopaths generally can't be bought off."

Breach continues to stare out the windows. He rests his hands in his lap as he relaxes somewhat from his defensive posture. The Undead Soldier shifts his weight slightly, crossing one leg over the other as he regards the cityscape beyond the windows.

"Us mammals are complicated. Us hyoo-mons are super-complicated. It's our gift and our curse."

Indira smiles and nods softly. "I have a lot to learn about your kind. Living in symbiosis, harmony. That, I understand. But I've seen how you treat each other. How you treat your planet." Her smile shrinks some, but blossoms again as she thinks upon the positive. "But you are creative. Curious. And very intriguing. In some ways, your gift overcomes your curse."

"In some ways," comments Breach. His voice sounds vaguely hollow, haunted even. The Undead Soldier's weight shifts subtly again, his position taking on something like the air of a man in complete and utter regretful repose. Indira may or may not suspect his eyes are closed behind the visor as he focuses on something that is definitely not the here and now.

Indira is more perceptive than she seems, at least to emotions. Her expression turns to concern and she turns her body to face Breach as much as she can in her seat. "Is something the matter, Breach?" she tests softly.

There is a long silence, a lack of motion, almost long enough to suggest that Indira's voice never made it to Breach's ears. He abruptly straightens, bristling for a half-second before he relaxes fractionally to a less aggressive posture in his seat.

"What?"

"Maybe I asked wrong. Are you well?" Indira rephrases, thinking the matter a problem with her language skills. The way she's studying him, she must be trying to pick up on some human queues in body language.

"I'm... I'm fine," replies Breach. His body language suggests Breach is not, in fact, okay. For one thing, Breach clearly seems agitated, but there's something else underlying it. Breach shifts his weight and adjusts his position, suddenly quite self-conscious, and returns to his original defensive posture in the seat with his arms crossed and his head cocked so he can scan the surroundings behind/beside the vehicle.

The vehicle's finally pulling into the Alien District and approaching the embassy. Safe harbor at last!

Indira does not seem convinced by Breach's answer. She looks past him to the streets outside, recognizing some of the buildings. "I think we are almost at the embassy. Maybe I should give you the rest of the day off. For a job well done," she offers up a smile.

"That's not necessary, ma'am," replies Breach, tone more serious and reserved than it has been recently. His gaze flickers toward Indira for a second or two - she can tell precisely when, Breach's body language shifts subtly as he looks at her and suffers the full effects of her Neurochemical Attraction - before looking back out the windows. "Mr. Diaz, however, has certainly earned the reprieve."

"I believe you both have," Indira comments as the car pulls up to the embassy. The engine shuts off and Orlan climbs out of the front seat and opens the door for Indira and Breach.

Indira unbuckles herself and steps out of the vehicle. As she waits for Breach to step out, she smiles to Orlan. "I am sorry to have put you at risk, as well. Take the rest of the day off, and I'll see you tomorrow." She gives her usual hug and a kiss on each cheek in farewell, which Breach has probably seen and been on the receiving end since taking the job. When she pulls back, she puts her right hand up to Orlan's cheek. "Have a very pleasant day off," she smiles as her hand slides away, leaving a faint residue the color of her skin behind. It quickly fades as it's absorbed into the skin.

"Thanks, Ambassador. That's really gener-whooa." and then it hits Orlan. And he is suddenly all big smiles. His business-like demanor and body language eases up and he begins to look totally relaxed and ready for a beach day. Like he just came back from a week-long vacation filled with R&R.

Breach opens his mouth to say something. Orlan promptly looks to be set to fail the next three random drug screenings. With a long, tired sigh, Breach rams his faceplate into the palm of his gloved right hand hard enough for the garage to ring with the resonant *KLONG* of whatever that mirrored visor is made out of rebounding off of his lightly armored glove.

Diplomatic immunity has its perks. And Indira hasn't been designated a schedule 1 substances. Yet. "Have fun. And get a taxi ride home."

Orlan tries to shake off...whatever it is. "Y'know, ma'am, it IS a beautiful day," he starts to appreciate the clouds in the sky and seem, well, super happy. He picks up his phone and starts dialing for a taxi or Lyft.

Indira lifts up on the balls of her bare feet at the ringing sound and looks to Breach. "Are you well, Breach?" she asks with concern. "You really do look like you could use rest and time off."

"You just hopped your driver up on... Something. You tried to go into Harrisburg without your security detail," starts Breach as he lifts his head out of his hand. The Undead Soldier's lips are pursed into a frown as he regards Indira from behind his helmet, body language settling into that Serious Soldier posture he adopts whenever he's dealing with security matters.

Moving a step or two further away from Indira, Breach folds his arms behind his back as he regards her. Breach holds his breath for a solid fifteen count before he continues, "And you very nearly started a diplomatic incident because you thought what? I don't know what you were thinking out there. Who tries to tell people they're animals and to stop being so animal-y because it's totally harshing your mellow?"

Indira doesn't frown. But she doesn't look very happy either. More melancholy, really. "You explained that they prey upon some people. Some prey on outsiders. Some on their own community. Perhaps I misunderstood your meaning. I was thinking the people of that community needed protecting from a group like that, until you explained Symbiosis afterwards."

She's quiet for a few moments as she reflects on something. Then she sounds very apologetic. "I am sorry for straining you. Breach. And I did not mean to make you think I thought of any of your people as animals."

"Sometimes people do need protection from gangs, that's a thing that gets done. Legally, logically, and realistically, you can't just saunter up to the first group of bangers you see, accuse them of preying on people when they're just hanging out, and demand they stop doing something they are not currently doing," replies Breach.

Flexing his hands into fists and unfurling them a few times in rapid succession, Breach seems to regain his calm. He shifts his weight, but keeps his distance from Indira for the moment. Lips still pursed tightly, Breach replies, "People /ARE/ animals. That doesn't mean you go around stating or implying that. Just... Just can we not go trying to solving humanity's problems by invading a place and trying to backhandedly compliment people into not being the feral hosemonsters they really are? I have had enough of that for one lifetime."

Indira's collar lights up ambiently as it translates a lot of the new words she hasn't quite studied up on. It flickers a bit at the feral hosemonsters comment. There must not be an Asrani equivalent to that. But she can read the physical cues loud and clear. "Very well, Breach. It was not my intent to invade anything or insult anyone. I...thought I was helping," she says with regret. It's no surprise that the diplomat is being diplomatic about this. But she sounds like she understands Breach loud and clear. "But I was in the wrong. I am sorry for angering you. Perhaps you really could use a day off."

Apparently having run out of vitriol, Breach doesn't so much sag as he just... Stops being angry. Or upset. Or whatever emotion he was actually feeling. What little Indira can see of his face seems to just give up on portraying disappointment in favor of going completely slack.

"You... It's my job to keep you safe, ma'am. If you do stuff like that, I cannot reasonably do my job."

Indira nods softly in understanding. "But I also hired you to keep civilians safe," she reminds in a way that implies, even though she had to hire him for security due to her advisors, her primary concern is the safety of others. "I will try to make your job easier, Breach. I do not want to put unreasonable demands on you. You are always welcome to speak freely to me about such matters." She picked up on the change in sentence and looks to Breach expectantly.

"And yet you wondered why I paid a group of gangbangers to forget we were ever there?" replies Breach. The reader can see his arched eyebrow in spite of the mirrored visor covering that part of his face.

"I don't understand. But I wonder that as well. My offices will reimburse you for your expenses, since it was on my behalf," Indira promises.

"I was keeping civilians safe from the harm that would have occurred if I had to fight them off when they very nearly inevitably attacked you," explains Breach. He folds his arms across his chest as he regards Indira.

Indira watches Breach thoughtfully before understanding takes hold. "I see. You -were- carrying out my desires. Even without me realizing it." She clasps her hands and smiles warmly, suddenly seeming very pleased. "I am very happy with your services. You thought of solutions to carry out my wishes without me even realizing it. I appreciate your thoughtfulness and quick thinking." She expresses her gratitude without reservation. "I can see you are still upset. I do promise to be more careful. What can I do to soothe your feelings?"

"It's fine. We've lived, we've learned, and no kids from the 'hood needed to get Luvs," replies Breach.

It sounds like the catch phrase to some TV show. "Loves? I suppose." Indira looks towards Orlan as a taxi comes and picks him up. "Well. Maybe I should've given him the day off after dinner. I'm parched." That will teach her not to think ahead. Or think more carefully about visiting Harrisburg and trying to take on Hellions on their home turf. She turns and begins to head for the Starguard entrance.

"It's a name brand... Or it was. I guess I don't really know if they exist anymore," comments Breach, suddenly sounding distant and thoughtful again. His frown returns, though it seems to be fixed on whenever it is his mind has focused in on again rather than the present and Indira's explorations of Earth.

"I am still unfamiliar with your products here. It may still exist," Indira comments. She notes the frown again and opines, "You worry too much sometimes, I think, Breach. Are you like this when you are off work as well?"

"Sometimes," comments Breach. He rolls his shoulders and abruptly lurches into motion, following Indira toward the doors to the Starguard building proper. Breach folds his arms behind his back again, shrugging at Indira. "I'm not really... That is. I don't care if Luvs are still around. Just, I guess, I took their existence and marketing for granted."

Indira chuckles softly as the doors automatically open. "They must have amazing brand loyalty, yes?" she comments, having no idea he's referring to diapers.

"... I wouldn't have any idea," replies Breach. He follows into the building, lips pursed in ponderation as he strolls along.

The rest of the day, thankfully, seems uneventful from a security standpoint. Long, but uneventful. Tea is ordered, meetings are had with officials. Meetings with politicians and dealing with paperwork for her new position. A realtor comes to assist in the acquiring of an embassy property so that Indira won't have to keep borrowing an office at the SDPA, along with a discussion about personal quarters. For now, Indira has been housed at a hotel nearby.

The one thing of interest is when her meeting with Ms. Wyndell concerning legal forms is interrupted by a knock at the office door. Two agents from Starguard are at the door looking, well, not hostile, but not friendly, either. And they have come unannounced.

Indira looks curious, and a bit tired from the long day, but she smiles. "Hello. I do not believe I have anymore meetings scheduled today..."

Breach looks up from his round of Slot Car Racing on his helmet's digital feed. He squints at the arriving Starguard agents and regards them coolly for a few seconds before professionally inquiring, "Can we help you, Agents Hendershot and Jiminez?"

Agent Hendershot takes the lead. "Just an informal inquiry." Because due to diplomatic immunity, they can't do a formal one. The partners are here on a hunch. "Given the Stronghold situation with the Guild, we just wanted to ask the Ambassador about her associations with the Guild." With news of aliens claiming to be the guild infiltrating Stronghold to make a personal army, and how pervasively they infiltrated the UEMS, there's been a swell of anti-alien sentiment.

"In the middle of a meeting, huh?" replies Breach, tone neutral. He may be silently judging them or he could just be confirming the facts. In either case, Breach tips his helmet to look over at Indira for the yea/nay on this "informal inquiry" of Starguard's, patiently awaiting a response.

"Since the Ambassador is a guest in our offices, we just thought we'd swing by," Agent Jiminez comments in a way that doesn't really sound casual.

Indira leans back in her seat with a creak of the seat's leather. She motions to Ms. Wyndell, "Go ahead and file that paperwork. We can continue tomorrow. Thank you." Ms. Wyndell looks a little flustered at the appearance of Starguard Agents, who don't quite seem amiable in their purpose here. She picks up her paperwork and tablet and scoots past the pair on her way out. Indira regards the agents and taps her translation collar to turn it on fully. This isn't a time for her to practice her English. "The informally, I have no association with the Guild," she smiles.

Agent Hendershot doesn't seem to like the answer. "Now, Ambassador, you can't have us believing you had no association with the Guild when they were laying claim on the planet. All alien contact had to go through the Guild."

"According to the articles of the UE charter, all contact with aliens that are a part of the Guild-slash-Milky Way galactic community has to go through the Guild," is Breach's automatic response. It just tumbles out of his mouth in a droning correction before he fully registers that he's saying it.

Now that it's been said, however, Breach seems willing to go with it. This willingness to go with it, however, keeps Breach almost lazily settled upon a couch in one corner of the office. He steeples his fingers beatifically upon his belly as he fixes his orange visor upon the agents in what may be a stare down.

"Being as the Ambassador represents a galactic community from a wholly different galaxy than our own, I believe she fully side-steps Guild and United Earth charter provisions. Similar to the fashion in which a number of aliens presently on UE are lone members of species not affiliated with the Guild or Guild member species/worlds, who are also permitted to be here without approval of the Guild."

By the way Agent Hendershot shifts his stance, it probably tips his hand that he didn't know the different galaxy part. Further proof that these two are working on a hunch rather than official orders.

Indira, meanwhile, looks impressed by Breach's knowledge of the situation. "Breach is correct. In my Galaxy, no one race or organization can lay sole claim to a planet with sentients on it. And as far as what I have heard of the Guild from back home, they don't have a habit of doing that, either." She remains relaxed given the situation, and manages to look kind and sympathetic in the interim. "That said, The Guild has no authority over me, or I, it. I am independent of that organization."

"And what about the aliens responsible for infiltration of our agencies?" asks Jiminez. "I don't suppose you'd know anything about them, would you?"

Blithely Breach replies, "I don't suppose you know anything about them, do you?"

Hendershot's eyes narrow. "Given all this time we thought the aliens were here to help us, I think it's safe to say we don't know anything about them."

Breach tries not to serenely smirk at Hendershot. Really, he does. It doesn't stop him from smirking that serene, s***-eating smirk at Hendershot, but Breach tried nonetheless. Hands still steepled atop his abdomen, Breach comments, "Then why would this office know anything about them?"

"Because she's one of them, Mason," Jiminez argues. Of course the agents are biased. And finding out aliens have been creating an army and taking over an overseeing agency under their noses has got to be a real sore spot.

"Agents," Indira starts calmly. "I understand right now you're a little...agitated, given recent events--"

"You're damn right we're agitated!" Jiminez loses his cool, being the hotter headed of the two agents. "Some good agents got hurt on that mission. They were trying to create an army from our own people!" He slams the bottom of his fist against the doorframe. Hendershot puts a hand on Jiminez' shoulder to calm him down.

Jiminez's fist slams into the doorframe.

Breach is on his feet before Hendershot's thought to move his hand toward Jiminez's shoulder. He reaches up with both hands and pops the magnetic clamps holding his helmet in place, lifting it off as Hendershot's hand lands on Jiminez's shoulder. Cold brown eyes fall on Jiminez and Hendershot as Breach holds his helmet loosely in one hand.

"Some good people got killed on 9/11, Jiminez, and a lot of good people got hurt, got killed in the aftermath because people thought they could lump everyone that looked a certain way together. Kids I knew in grade school moved because their folks got hurt. Got killed. Because somebody decided they looked Muslim, however the **** you look like a particular religion."

Pausing a moment, Rick lets that set in as he stares down the agents. Hendershot, technically, has three inches on Rick, Jiminez is about the same height as Rick is, but burlier. Rick breathes slowly as he seethes, brown eyes smoldering as he fixes his attention on them both.

"I /DIED/ because two different cultures decided to believe in a blanket stereotype. I lost 50 got damaged years because somebody didn't like the Hollywood hallucination of my country, my religion, my way of life, my standard of living, and they put a bullet through my ribs through a flak jacket."

Glowering, Rick takes a single step forward. It's just enough that he can reach out and plant his helmet against Jiminez's chest.

"So next you come in here, throwing blanket accusations around, you had damned well better have something approximating concrete evidence or, so help me Jah, I will drag you down into the bureaucratic bogmire I live in right now."

The agents are sufficently cowed by Breach's display and speed. And Indira, slow and plant-like, is awed by Breach's speed and conviction.

Well, Hendershot is cowed. Jiminez is on the fence but he's shakened by Breach's speech. Even though he's burlier than Rick, the helmet-plant rocks him a bit. Hendershot squeezes Jiminez's shoulder. "Come on, Jiminez, we're not here to start a fight." Hendershot is making steps back towards the door to try and urge Jiminez to follow.

"Oh, we'll have our evidence. We'll be keeping an eye on the ambassador. And I won't forget whose side you took," Jiminez warns as he walks backwards towards the exit to keep an eye on Breach.

"Drop it, Jiminez," Hendershot growls, and Jiminez finally turns around and walks out with his partner. He casts one last glance at Breach and Indira before they are out of sight and walking down the hall.

It all happened so fast that Indira hadn't had time to react. She's just stunned by Breach's words and the interaction that took place.

The moment the door closes, Breach wheels about and looks like he's about to keep going around and heave his helmet out the door after the agents. You know, by throwing the helmet /THROUGH/ the door. Rick falters as he catches sight of Indira.

Putting the brakes on his spin, Rick plants his feet and relaxes his muscles as he stares blankly at Indira. It's probably not the first time that he's stared at her like she were a ghost... Or whatever stupid sexy plant aliens have as ghost-analogues. After a few seconds of quiet staring, Rick inquires, "Are you okay, Indira?"

Indira is still calmy seated and just staring back at Rick with an expression that reads as mild surprise over the whole incident. When he asks her how she's doing, it shifts to concern. Her body straightens up slowly and before she speaks, gathering her self physically as well as emotionally from the incident with the agents. "I'm fine, Mr. Mason. Are -you- okay?" she asks back.

"I'm... What? Ye-yes. Of course I'm fine," replies Rick. He looks vaguely shaken by the question, moreso than even whatever it was he saw when he looked at her. Rick plonks his helmet down on Indira's desk and folds his arms across his chest, eyeballing her carefully. "As long as you're alright, that's the important part."

Pause.

Heart beat.

"Ma'am."

Indira waves a hand over the holo-computer on her desk and a projected screen pops up. "Ms. Wyndell? Can we move the rest of our meeting for tomorrow? I believe it's time for a break. You may go home earlier if you wish."

"R-really? Sure, Ambassador. I'll reschedule it for tomorrow morning," Ms. Wyndell replies before the call ends.

She looks up at Breach and lets out a bodily sigh that's accompanied by the scent of pine. "I'm...fine. This isn't the first planet with the occasional hostile view of visitors. It won't be the last, either." Her fingers clasp on the table as she lowers her gaze down to consider something carefully. "But I think I could use a break to spend some time...meditating on symbiosis and the culture. As I heard Ms. Wyndell whisper, I could use a drink. Or something relaxing to that effect." She rises up slowly from her chair and walks around the desk, stopping by Breach.

"I appreciate what you said. It sounds like you've been through more than I realized. Perhaps you could use a break as well," she suggests softly.

"Human lives," replies Breach in a hollow tone of voice, "Are short in the grand scheme of things, ma'am."

Rapping twice upon his helmet with armored knuckles, Breach abruptly flips up his helmet and slams it back into place on his head. Automatically the magnetic clamps re-fasten themselves as he stares at Indira from behind his mirrored helm again.

"I just got off a 50 year break, ma'am, I think I can handle being on duty for a while."

Indira smiles softly at Breach, with a twinge of sadness. "Yes...they can be." And then, her demeanor brightens on the side of hopeful. "But you seem to burn brightly. Still...all the more reason to enjoy life. Your people's work hours are grueling on this planet. Let us find a more relaxing atmosphere to free ourselves from this...'bureaucratic bogmire' for a bit."

Breach actually offers a genuine chuckle at Indira's comment. He shakes his head a little bit and offers a small, wounded smile. "This isn't the bureaucratic bogmire, ma'am. The bureaucratic bogmire is what I deal with when I'm not working. Still working on proving to the government that I am, in fact, me and am entitled to an assortment of moneys and benefits that I earned in my previous life."

Another surprised look from Indira. She leans back against her desk and places her hands on it as she considers him. "You died during some sort of cultural war, but they won't honor what is your? I'm so sorry. If I could help with that, I would. But maybe one day I will meet someone who -can- help you. someone that's a part of your government."

Thinking of the words exchanged, she looks him over with a searching expression. "Where are...ribs?" she asks cautiously.

"Humans don't tend to come back from the dead, ma'am," replies Breach, tone quiet and strangely apologetic, "And, if they do, they don't generally tend to come back as... Well off as I am. Normal guy 50 years ago, comes back from the dead a super-human that doesn't hunger for the flesh of the living? Not exactly the usual way that tale goes."

After a long pause, Breach cocks his head at Indira. He reaches up and tap-taps at the plate armor covering his chest.

"Eating the flesh of the living is usual? Interesting. My people can regrow from some injuries, but when we are gone...we are gone." Her eyes were focusing somewhere around his stomach and legs at the pondering of human anatomy; something that's not on her current list of things to learn immediately, but she'll have eventual plans to learn that and more.

Her attention focuses on his chest once he finally raps on the armor. "Ah. There," she says in illuminated tones. Her expression both softens and saddens as she considers his demise. "Well, you are alive. You are here. You may have lost time and earnings, but you have regained something in return. Everything will solve itself eventually," she tries to be uplifting as she pushes off from her desk. "Ms. Wyndell will see you reimbursed tomorrow. Today, I wish for something joyful to replace the grief. What do humans do around here for relaxation?"

"It's..." Breach trails off when he finds he cannot figure out a way to explain zombies/ghouls/etc. to Indira. He remains completely silent and still for long moments until she inquires about relaxation. "Me, I like to watch movies these days."

The concept would probably be lost on her anyway. "Movies? Don't you go out and experience life?" Indira asks.

"Haven't much seen the point. No family left. No friends to speak of, unless you count the guys in suits that follow me around three days a week," replies Breach.

The more she asks, the more sad news she receives. "The point is, how will you make friends if you do not go outdoors?" This is a universal principal. The diplomat has a new mission. She pushes off from her desk and strides for the door with glorious purpose. "The work day is over," she announces.

Yes, yes. Breach is like the saddest of all puppy-based (de)motivational posters. He's just a giant well of sadness and unnecessary emotional pain. That's probably what makes his comic so popular amongst the goth and emo segments of the comic book demographic.

Breach grunts in response to the question posed him. He doesn't have a good answer and, honestly, he's not sure he's ready to have a good answer to that particular question. Shifting his weight absently, Breach blinks once or twice behind his visor when Indira declares the work day to be over. This seems like a trap.

"O... kay. Well then, I'll see you in the morning, ma'am. Have a pleasant evening," comments Breach as he starts toward the door his boss is now holding open for him. Admiral Ackbar wails in the back of his mind, "IT'S A TRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" and yet Breach ignores savviest of all fishmen in space.

Indira is older than many of the humans on the planet. And from a more 'advanced' civilization, so in her mind, she thinks she's helping to enlighten Breach a little about enjoying the time he has. Or giving him a gift. She smiles at his farewell and steps up to him to give her accustomed farewell in return. "Have a wonderful evening, Mr. Mason," she says as she gives him a hug and a kiss on each cheek. Mr. Mason is what she calls him when he's off-duty. Her kisses are warm. Almost tingly. Which isn't normal for her, anyway. She steps back from the farewell ritual and holds the door for him.

Breach is accustomed - or, at least, resigned - to this particular start of the day/end of the day ritual with Indira. He obliges her politely, nose crinkly at the warm, tingly sensation pervading his cheeks. Not for the first time and certainly not for the last time, a sentence crosses his mind as he straightens up again.

.oO(Stupid sexy Flanders.)

The Undead Soldier steps out into the hall and clunks down the hall toward the locker room. He's patently unaware of the planty residue slowly sinking into the flesh of his cheeks as he goes. What Breach is aware of, however, is the fact that everything around him is starting to look... Different. Breach reaches the locker room and pushes open the door, entering before he fully registers the landscape his increasingly intoxicated mind is rendering beyond the door.

Maybe the lights seem a little brighter. Colors a bit more vivid. Nothing's actually changed. Just his perceptions have. That's what most psychedellic users well remind you when you're tripping balls. But Indira's chemical makeup isn't quite as potent as that. Not in this form. And hopefully the drug lords of the city never find out about it.

As Breach goes off to the locker rooms, Indira takes out her phone and says, "Find local cantina."

"I don't know what you're looking for," replies her qPid.

"Primative verbal devices. It only they had neuro-technology commonly available. A local bar. Club. Something," she settles on. Her phone blips in recognition and makes a recommendation. As she walks by Ms. Wyndell's desk, she says, "I'll see you tomorrow. I will bring those lacking cakes you enjoy."

"Donuts??" Ms. Wyndell asks excitedly.

"Yes, the donuts," Indira smiles, stops to give a hug and a kiss on each cheek, minus the dose of chemicals, and then heads on her way downstairs for the exit.