Something Better to Do (Open)

[Gareth Beaumain]

He needed something better to do, and somewhere better to go. The sweltering heat that seemed to have sprung up overnight annoyed Gareth and cut his short-fuse down even shorter. So he wandered into the Lobby of TI, content to feel a cool blast of air hit his face (well, the top half, anyway). It felt good, no, it felt great not to have to deal with heat that rivaled the Savannah.

The only answer the receptionist received was a single-minded stare toward the cushioned chairs on the opposite part of the room. All other voices seemed mute as he calmly raced for the prize: comfort.

When he had finally reached the Olympic Gold, he sunk down in the chair. A sigh of relief came out from the robotic face mask, almost as good as his original voice except for the technological, stereotypical voice of a computer underlying it. His eyes closed for a moment before shooting open again and remembering he was in public. Couldn't do that. Couldn't sleep here no matter what. Instead, drowsy eyes fought viciously to stay awake, scanning different people to keep themselves busy.

[Sevestra Yysara]

Sweltering heat or no sweltering heat, Sevestra stuck to her largely black and largely covered-up Shadow uniform. It would likely have made her unrecognizable had she not been pretty much the only Shadow who wore their uniform day and night, summer or not. As such it actually made her pretty conspicuous.

But Gareth wouldn't need to recognize her anyway, because she had spotted him already and was making her way over to him, casting the occasional glance at him to make sure she had seen right.

"Hello, Asset," she said, though she quickly caught her mistake. "Civilian." Too brusque. And Gareth was far too informal. "Beaumain," she finally decided, giving the man a curt nod by way of a physical greeting. She couldn't help but wonder what he was doing here, but as long as he was simply in the lobby, a public area, asking why he was there was not her responsibility. And she took her job very seriously.

"I haven't seen you in a while," she stated, deciding to attempt conversation instead. Though in hindsight this was probably a very stupid thing for her to say, because the last time she had seen him was when he had lost his arm, and his jaw, and bits and pieces of his mind. Bringing up painful memories like that wasn't exactly the nicest conversation topic, but these things happen when you're a job-oriented, highly socially awkward pixie woman. In fact, in many ways, she was just as robotic as Gareth was.

[Gareth Beaumain]

Gareth seemed to flinch in pain at the reference of his former 'Asset' occupation. Civilian, not so much. He didn't seem to mind it that much, but he enjoyed (well, as close as Gareth would get to 'enjoyment') being called Beaumain. It was his name, and it wasn't parading any side's banner but his own. That worked.

"Sevestra," he responded plainly and without looking directly at her, instead still scanning the frantic rushing of various workers. I haven't seen you in a while, the memory that the simple phrase evoked was like a wildfire in Gareth's mind. His eyes darted to Sevestra's faster than a World Class sprinter past the finish line. Unfortunately, the destination in Gareth's case didn't hold any fruits of victory. In them was a contained sense of anger, but he vented through thoughts as best as he could. Creating a disturbance here wouldn't yield anything good out of it.

"Well, the last time that I saw you I was running for my life without a left arm or a bottom half of a face," the 'Civilian' stated. As if they were programmed there, his words were full of anger, regret, and repression. No 'thank you' would escape from the apparatus that became his 'mouth'. A dangerous mix of pride and malice toward that particular scene in his life wouldn't let that happen.

[Sevestra Yysara]

She was more than a little tempted to bark, "That's Shadow Yysara to you, Asset," when Gareth addressed her simply as Sevestra. Luckily, she managed to contain herself. The last time she had seen him she had been his superior, but now he was just a civilian, and an injured one at that. No, he was a veteran. What she needed was some...

Some......

...

Sympathy! That was what she needed, but even the word didn't come easily to her, let alone the act itself. Generally she would ask if someone was okay out of necessity, fix them up if need be, and send them on their way. She didn't like sticking around to deal with emotional trauma. Emotions, for the most part, confused her.

Odd, for a pixie.

"True," Sevestra said simply when he recounted the events of their last meeting. "I'm sorry," she hesitantly went on, trying out this 'sympathy' business. But she honestly had no idea what she was apologizing for. She hadn't sent him on the mission; she wasn't Head Shadow back then. She had actually saved his life, and got in trouble for it too, because she wasn't even supposed to be there in the first place. And that's without even mentioning the fact that she had been left to fight off a senior member of the Cult, by herself, with no backup, and no knowledge of any offensive magic. That had been the first day she had used Crush, and the first and last time she had mangled a wing. They were a pain to repair.

But none of that mattered. She was all well and good now, and Head Shadow to boot. She pushed the thoughts away and attempted to start a more comfortable conversation. Not exactly her forte, but she deserved points for making the effort.

"What are you doing now for a job?"

[Gareth Beaumain]

Anger dissolved from his eyes as she apologized, returning to the usual, cold expression that he wore proudly. He shuffled in his chair momentarily, shifting with the attention span of a goldfish. Sympathy wasn't something popular with the Six Million Dollar Man: he wasn't in to getting it, and especially not into giving it. It was a weakness, waste of energy, waste of time; the list went on and on. He spat on the very notion of it, that is, if he physically could.

"You don't have to waste your breath," Gareth said as flatly as an old soda. Yet again he lost eye contact with Sevestra and returned to his usual hobbies of simply spying on people. Some would see this as a sign of disrespect, but for the mechanical man, it showed respect that he was even talking to her and holding a conversation. This was Gareth at his top game.

A small pause came between the question and its answer, "Freelance." It was short, simple, almost didn't miss a beat, and got the point across fairly well. Although, because he didn't have a lance and had no intention of ever owning one, he wondered if he should have changed his answer. "Hired Blade," Gareth said, changing his answer. Little things like that were enough for him to blow a circuit somewhere if left unchecked. "I kill. I spy. Sometimes I babysit some of those bureaucratic dogs," he added on. He held most of those politicians in high contempt.

'What's going on?' 'I don't think those are from TI.' 'I'm pretty sure my leg isn't supposed to bend that way.' They whined, they complained, they stated the obvious; it was by his own good grace (and the pay) that he didn't kill them on the spot for simply not shutting up.

"Guess you're still imprisoned here, then."

[Sevestra Yysara]

Sevestra was unimaginably relieved when Gareth told her not to bother with the sympathy thing, and she even relaxed the slightest bit. Paradoxically enough, for her to relax, she actually visibly stiffened and spoke less, but she was much more comfortable that way than she was trying to pretend she actually cared how Gareth was faring.

When Gareth mentioned his line of work, she frowned slightly, though the change in facial expression was hardly noticeable because she had been far from smiling in the first place. Freelance work often resided outside the boundaries of TI's laws, and some FAs even did jobs for the Aretas Immortalis Cult. She wouldn't have put it past the apparently-bitter Gareth to do some work for the Cult just to spite Thaumaturgy International for sending him on the job that cost him his humanity, except for the fact that this would mean he would be working for the very group that mauled him. Either way, it was worth keeping in mind that he was, as he referred to it, a 'hired blade'. TI hadn't heard any news of him in a long time, and it was good to know what he was up to.

But she still had no idea why he was here.

"Imprisoned? Hardly. Working for Thaumaturgy International is my life's ambition; I wouldn't leave unless I was ordered to. Besides, the work of a Shadow is too beneficial to the public to be fickle with; and I have to keep all the other Shadows in line as well."

It was clear the two had differing views on the situation there.

"If you think of it as so akin to a prison, why did you come here again?" she asked him, finally finding a way to ask what his purpose there was, without being too conspicuous about it. Conversation definitely wasn't her best subject. The two made a fine pair.

[Gareth Beaumain]

Gareth heard through various people that there had been a new string of promotions, he just didn't expect one to be given to Sevestra. It wasn't that he didn't view her as a combat threat, it was just a fact that had crept up on him. "So they moved you out of the kennel and into the suite," he said to himself. It was unaware if he meant to say it or not, judging by the semi-low volume of his voice.

He had some issues with being a single-sided tool of war. If he's got no enemies, then he shouldn't restrict services. To return from an ordeal like Gareth had experienced, he had to become a different person. Someone that didn't care about good or evil, so that the line between black and white became so blurred it was all one big shade of gray.

Gareth moved something in between the fingers of his good, organic hand. Upon inspection, it was just a large coin, most likely made for the exact purpose of what he was doing.

"AC," Gareth responded. It was his original reason for coming here, but with a senior member of an elite task force here, he figured that he might as well put in a plug. "And to inform that I'm open for business. For those gray areas that Thaumaturgy wouldn't want to get their hands dirty in," he stated with a hint of malice in his voice. He resented the 'Holier Than Thou' they they had sometimes put on when dealing with the Cult.

The lamprey of wars switched hands with the coin, focusing on improving the dexterity of his Magi-Tech hand instead. Even after years of getting used to it, it still felt a bit unnatural, and he was hoping to eradicate that problem.

"But mostly for AC."