Difference between revisions of "Petite Legion"

Latest revision as of 06:37, 13 January 2013

Maximilien has posed:
It's a day like any other at the TDA's temporary hotel headquarters. In the upstairs room - the one which Mercade has set up as a temporary office, with all his files and folders dangling about - is Maximilien Amadeus Renaud-Sylvianne. The infamous Phantom Thief sits at Mercade's desk, legs crossed, a stack of paperwork next to him. Some of it he is working on, helping Mercade get some organization while the other man is out. Some of it is arrayed around the desk in convenient reading array - most of that related to the Keyblade and Mickey Mouse. It's...interesting stuff, to be sure. Stuff he's got a vested interest in, in fact.

Max sits back in the chair, picking up a folder directly. Keyblades...

Legion has posed:
There is a knock on the door. It's a Legion. Which Legion? Well, that is the mystery. But it's obviously not Imi, who is still in Fluorgis. Also it's Emi, but that probably isn't apparent just from a knock or a look through a peephole either. What is Legion's purpose? IS SHE HERE TO CAUSE TROUBLE? TO HELP ORGANIZE THINGS?

Actually it seems to be to deliver some tea and sandwiches. Legions do have to eat like any other human would so while they may not be iron chefs, they do know how to prepare basic meals. Of course, this may be intended for Mercade seeing as normally the person sitting in Mercade's chair is Mercade.

Maximilien has posed:
Max stands, setting the folder to the side. He hops over the desk, opening the door; when he sees it's one of the Legii (Legions? Legionnaires?), he opens the door, places a hand over his heart, and bows. "Bonjour, madamoiselle. Comment allez-vous? Is that for me, or for monsieur Alexander? He has gone out at the moment, of course, but if a lady made food for him, I could not possibly steal such a kind gift."

He straightens and moves back over to the desk, slipping back into the comfortable chair and picking up the file again. "I was not aware that tea was regularly served here. What sort of tea did you make?"

Legion has posed:
Legion seems fine with whatever.

Stepping inside, she closes the door behind her. "There is no determined recipient, The Network notes that whomever is working here is welcome to it. Tea is not regularly served, but we are of the belief that detectives typically drink tea, of the earl grey variety, according to the stories though we are probably making that up." She sets the tray down and looks over to Maximilien. "Of course," She adds. "That is something for gentleman thieves too, is it not, The Network abuses her wealth of tv knowledge." She nods over to the sandwiches. They are thinly cut and seem to be made with small slices of cheese and turkey. Practically bite size, more 'snack' than 'meal'.

"Thank you again for yesterday." She adds, and as such is likely Emi?

Maximilien has posed:
Max's lips quirk upwards as he attempts to hide a smile. "Detectives in the stories might drink earl grey, but I suspect monsieur Alexander is more of a...a diet soda sort of person." He sets the file down and takes a look at the teacup nonetheless, as well as the sandwhiches. Thinly cut, neatly cut, nicely cut. She worked hard on this. It'd be a shame if no one enjoyed it.

"Ahh, I do enjoy tea...though I confess that I personally prefer it sweet and iced to earl grey, madamoiselle...Emi?" An educated guess indeed. But, well, eyes and ears open. Max picks up the teapot and pours himself a cup, stirring it a bit before taking a sip. Then he picks up a sandwhich and takes a bite before setting it down on the desk. "Wherever did you learn to cook, madamoiselle? You do not seem the sort, I admit."

Legion has posed:
It sure would :(.

Emi notes Max's preference for later. They have a good memory. they're not likely to forget. variety is the spice of life though, will they just serve the same thing over and over and ruin it?! well they don't intend to serve tea every day, they were just feeling--well--pensive? a bit? yes.

"It does not take much effort to make tea or sandwiches." She says, tilting her head at Max. "We learned it from a part time job. This one in particular took many part time jobs. This allowed us to make small purchases, even through our work on Vespertine. Growing and learning was part of oour duties so that we may challenge Cronus better, but there were no limits so not all learning was focused on combat maneuvering."

She smiles faintly as she's called by name and nods to Max. "That's right." she seems happy SOMEONE is enjoying her work.

Maximilien has posed:
"Au contraire, madamoiselle. It takes little effort to make them - it takes a great deal of care to pride in one's work, however. Your sandwhiches are well-cut, with a careful hand; your tea is well-stirred and well-kept, lovingly measured. It may not be a difficult task to make tea and sandwhiches, but you clearly care enough to put effort into them; that speaks to me of someone who either knows how to cook, or wishes to learn how to cook better, mmm?" Max fiddles with the sandwhich for a moment before taking another bite, setting the tea down atop a makeshift coaster. He pushes some of the files away to make more room for the tray.

"Challenge Cronus," Max observes after a moment, leaning forward; he rests his head slightly behind his hands, thinking about the wording of that carefully. An artificial person made for the growth of someone else...how horrible. "Did you enjoy those part-time jobs, Madmaoiselle Emi?"

Legion has posed:
"You are sharp." Legion says, bringing her hands behind her back. She glances out the window and despite being in a room with thief doesn't seem concerned for her own possessions and, really, she probably doesn't have much in the way of posessions anyway. at least of the material sort. She has a rifle? But it's not with her. She has a wallet, but it is--distressingly--rather sparse in the inventory department.

She is not sure about 'lovingly', but she does admit, "I do care about the people here. Besides that, they do good work. I have been worried about their...morale?...lately."

She looks back over to Max and confirms, "Challenge Cronus."

Not beat him, or threaten, challenge.

"Yes, I like doing all sorts of different work." She says. "The Network have many total interests, of course." she smiles again. "But you must also have had many jobs yourself."

Maximilien has posed:
"It is necessary to be either a detective or a thief. You would be surprised how few people really look at the world to see it as it is; how few people understand that clever trickery is really simply taking advantage of what they themselves advertise." Max finishes off his sandwhich and reaches for another. "These are quite good nonetheless."

He taps his finger on the desk thoughtfully, leaning back once more; his other hand slides up to support his cheek, and he lays his head against it, keeping a curious watch on her. Not to beat him...not to threaten him. To challenge. That suggested...things. Things he wasn't sure he was quite ready to ask just yet. Instead, Max shifts in his seat, picking the teacup back up with his tapping hand and raising it to his lips. "What sort of work did you enjoy the most, if you do not mind my prying?"

"Ah, oui; I have worked in quite a number of places. My personal favorite job was cooking, too. I enjoyed it greatly; I worked as a caterer for some time, then one of the chefs of a wealthy but unpleasant nobleman...I have always enjoyed cooking. I suppose it is in my blood, mmm? France has always been innovative when it comes to cuisine...even if some of those innovations have been, ah, questionable, shall we say." He wasn't a fan of snails.

Legion has posed:
Is Max a thief or is he a detective, if he's a detective he's a very thiefly detective. Is he a detective or is he a thief? If he's a thief he's a detective of a thief.

In either case, he seems intent on teaching. What sort of work did she enjoy most? She had never quiet been asked that before and she has to think about it. She enjoys cooking, and she enjoys most of her jobs she ends up doing.

Eventually she says, "I am not sure I have an answer for that yet." She admits quietly. "I am still on probation here, I expect there is still much about this job that I have yet to understand. Nevertheless, The Network feels a connection to this sort of job. Before that...there was selling sea salt ice cream. It ddid not require much skill, unfortunately, but...it seemed..."

She trails off an then cups her chin, thinking it over. "You must know a lot about fine dining, sir." She says. "If you served a wealthy but unpleasant nobleman. This one hears they like to..nmm...the term...play with their food? no that is not it." Hmm.

Maximilien has posed:
A gentleman thief has to know how a detective thinks to avoid detectives. It winds up becoming an amalgam job, after all; it's part of being a thief superhero. You learn the same sort of tricks, the same thought patterns, and that's what makes a Phantom Thief.

"I think you will do quite well here, and enjoy yourself besides. I know that I have found my time to be most enjoyably spent in the company of these people; they have been quite accepting, despite a few...unpleasantries, here and there. I think you will be an excellent detective, madamoiselle."

"I suppose I do. The wealthy enjoy a number of strange eccentricities. I worked for a corpulent fellow who preferred eating things stuffed with bread, unwilling to taste anything that did not possess a copious amount of bread inside it. He was...erm...how do I phrase this..."

"Larger and wealthier than he was intelligent."

Legion has posed:
But if a thief has to know how a detective thinks and a detective has to think like a thief then WOAAAAAAAAAH this is getting too deep! Emi is not very emotive even at the best of times, but she does smile at the compliment. Despite saying that she wasn't sure which job she liked best, she seems infatuated with the very idea of this service. Of course, she doesn't see a detective as someone who solves mysteries. that's not how it was put to her. "A detective helps those who can be helped by noone else." She says and then, after some thought adds, "Is it similar for a Phantom Thief?"

She barely manages to avoid making a quip about whether he's undead because he's a phantom. Just barely.

"Inheritance? Well, foolishness is also a luxury so one could say he was a luxurious man, hm?"

And then Emi does something strange. She laughs. Like a girl.

It's kind of weird.

Maximilien has posed:
Being a phantom thief is not for the faint of mind or contemplation! It is circles within circles of circular thought! A spiral of thought about thinking about philosophy!

"Mmmm...it depends. In the stories, Phantom Thieves are heroes who steal from the greedy rich, exposing their lies and deceits with unlawful tools. In reality...I do not know that I am quite so just a man." Maximilien leans back in the chair, tapping his fingers together. Was he so just a person? No. No, he couldn't really say that he was. "I try to help where I can, like any decent human being...but I am not so virtuous as that. I am a thief, after all; though I do not steal from the poor, I do not always steal from the vile. I try to...but not always."

He would probably have smiled at that quip, too.

"I suppose that that is true," Max replies, and he laughs, too. It was good to hear people laugh; this girl was in strange circumstances, and he couldn't help but feel bad for her. She reminded him of someone.

"So. Why the interest in the wealthy, madamoiselle Emi? Are you planning to become a thief yourself?"

Legion has posed:
"Mm, well, we do not think we are strictly speaking especially virtuous. We do not try to be cruel, however, The Network aims for that. Except in humor, then I feel a certain cruelty is neccessary in order to properly get a joke off." She nods to herself. Max asks her if she intends to become a thief and it's a surprising question, both her eyebrows shoot up.

"This one would not say that." She murmurs. "But I intend to become a detective, so I will have to, at least in part, be a thief. And perhaps in ways beyond just stealing Mercade's hospitality. Why do--"

She pauses suddenly, eyes going wide. Suddenly she's not looking at Max anymore. She grabs at her head, her fingernails dig into her flesh. A kind of terror fills those eyes and she throws herself into the side wall, knocking over some papers on the way over.

"What." She asks. "What's going on. There shouldn't be six. Why is there six? Max, a sixth voice. That voice is suppose to be dead. That is a dead voice, why do I--"

Her fingers dig in deep, starting to draw blood, tears spilling out of her eyes in a particularly uncharacteristic display of emotion. "Why is she showing me these things, why Isaac why did you do this? The train I can't hear it's call. That thought is not mine. Not viral, The Network analyzes."

She pants hevily, letting her hands drop and her bloodied hands flop to the side, she stares ahead, panting for breath.

Maximilien has posed:
"I think," Max observes after a moment, tapping his fingers together, "That those who claim to be especially virtuous usually are nothing of the sort. Those who have virtue to be proud of generally are not proud, if you catch my meaning; it is a certain...je ne sais quois. So I would not worry about your virtue, ehn? If you are virtuous, you will be virtuous; otherwise, we can merely strive to be the best we can be."

Max laughs at that. "Indeed. Well, if you wish, I can tell you everything you will need to know about being- ehn?" His laughter abruptly comes to a halt as Emi begins freaking out; her eyes widening prompts him to hop over the desk, narrowly dodging the tea tray to land in front of her. She throws herself against the wall; Max moves to grab her, and fails. "Madamoiselle! Madamoiselle Emi!"

He frowns. Thinking on his feet is his best skill; as she begins freaking out, Max darts out of the room, grabbing a cloth from the bathroom. He hurries back in, crouching next to her and taking her bloodied hands in the towel, gently wiping away he blood. "Madamoiselle...are you injured?" His voice is full of patience and an almost uncharacteristic kindness; it's devoid of the usual smug arrogance he tends to project, or the cheerful self-confident swagger...it's just kind. Just soft and kind.

% "Take all the time you need, Madamoiselle Emi. You are safe. You are not in any danger."

Legion has posed:
Emi has stopped injuring herself by the time Max comes back. Her cheeks are still wet with tears. Sometimes Antiviral programs mistake what is a virus and what is supposed to be there. An aspect of the network has come back changed, different, effectively a program that had never been there. It shares the old similarities but there's differences due to a lack of shared experience--and that's all it takes. It's not the gradual construction of quirks and traits that The Network typically accepts. And what's more, the new information as terrifying in its own way. What it's like being deceased. What it's like not being in The Network. It's enough to make them grip ever so tightly to their unique lack of uniqueness. Emi calms down rapidly as the explanations come. The train's call becomes ever so distant, almost forgotten.

"We are sorry for worrying you, Max." She says, voice monotonal, neutral. "We are okay now." aside from the cuts to her face she has not damaged herself. Of course, a network saying 'we are okay now' as listlessly as that is, typically speaking, a frightening sign.

"Isaac brought a Sister back from the dead." she says. "Reintegration was difficult." She breathes in and out slowly, looks at Max, twistig her body to face him more properly.

And then she moves forward, quietly intending to give Max a hug. It was a painful experience. Maybe they'll be happy for it later, but right now the flood of emotions is enough on its own that she needs something--or someone--to hold onto. She has chosen Max. Mysteriously, this has sort of kept her from considering the prior discussion.

Maximilien has posed:
Max shakes his head. "I am pleased to hear that, madamoiselle Emi. A pretty girl should never have to cry; beautiful girls look their best when they smile, oui?" He just gently wipes off the blood, patient, gentle - so gentle. So friendly. When she tells him what happened, he nods; he had been listening to the radio, heard the explosion of activity. He had put two and two together; for them, it must be the most terrifying event in the world, having something forced into their mind that was not there before. It was terrifying to him; it was likely even worse for them, and their cross-personal personality.

When she comes to give him a hug, he blinks; he's taken off-guard as Emi wraps her arms around him. Then he smiles, reaches up, and pats her on the head gently before hugging her back gently, his cape flowing around her as he does so. "Do not worry, petite; cling as tight as you need. I will anchor you through this storm."

Legion has posed:
Hugs are powerful weapons. But even Emi is, in some ways, a child. In other ways she's not even human. But for this sort of thing, where her very mind seemed--for a time--to rebel against her. In that moment she really started to panic. She didn't know herself. And then once she knew what was happening...

"It was strange..." She murmurs, staying close for the moment. "The Network did not recognize her entirely, in a few weeks she was as if she was someone entirely different. The Network supposes that to most it would not seem she was different at all and yet... I felt that one's fear." She looks to Max. "Calling herself Shida, 'Six'. I felt it. It was the fear that we had abandoned her. ANd then, it seems, our minds treated her as an outsider."

She frowns faintly. "I had failed to protect her. Do you believe she blames me? Us? The Network wonders."

Maximilien has posed:
Max is not...very good at hugs. It's been a very long time since he really understood how to show someone any real affection; still, even a poor hug is a good hug for someone who needs one. So he just sits there, holding her gently, silent in Mercade's makeshift office, his opera cape wrapped around them both. Just...sits there. He doesn't really know how to do much more.

She starts talking, and he smiles. He doesn't know what to say, here; it's not like he has much depth in comforting artificial human beings who just had a member of their internal network restored through accidental and traumatic force. ...it's not like ANYONE does, really. But sometimes you just need someone there to listen.

"Perhaps she does blame you," Max observes quietly, gently patting her on the back, "But if she does, you cannot help it, mmm? Your biological reaction was one of fear - you can explain it to her and hope that she understands, and trust that as sisters you can come to a conclusion, or you can worry and let it linger and let fear control you."

Legion has posed:
Emi knows a challenge when she hears one. WILL SHE COWER IN FEAR or will she accept responsibility and try to mend matters? However Emi already knows the answer to that one, really. She's the one who has to be responsible for the others and, as such, can't really give into fear here. It would be irresponsible. She'd just be failing them again. So she should at least give it a go. But it was nice to hear Max's take because--well, for one, he didn't just say 'everything will be okay' because one of the best ways to covince someone everything is not okay is to tell them that everything will be okay. Instead, he offers a reasonable attack plan.

Her eyes narrow faintly. "This one has no intent on letting fear control her."

She does not judge Max's hug but beggers cannot be choosers, even when it comes to hugging! Though she can at least add 'stealing a hug from a phantom thief' to her repertoire. She has forgotten really about the earlier conversation which might make it tabled, though of course perhaps Max not having had super emotional trauma as recently does.

What she does say, however, "Sorry for asking a foolish question. I believe in my sisters and myself. We have had good fortune since meeting the TDA. We've told you much about ourselves but I suppose, ultimately, I hope one day to get to know all of you." Even if Max might not consider himself a TDA member so much as a TDA tagalong, Emi seems to be including him. They have said time and time again that their experiences with them would make death worth it. However.

"I think what I am a bit ashamed of, however--is that I had never thought of death something to be feared..." She glances over to Max. "But when I felt those experiences, I was afraid. Do you think less of me for that?, The Network inquires."

Maximilien has posed:
Max smiles. "There are no foolish questions, petite; even the simplest of thing is new to someone." He just pats her on the back again, allowing her to remain quite thoroughly hugged until she feels the need to pull away. Once she does, he just stands back up and straightens his cape and his tuxedo. "I am glad, however, to hear that you intend to face this with eyes-forward, ready to do whatever you can do to deal with this problem."

'Do you think less of me for that?'

Max pauses a frowns. "Of course not, petite. There is nothing to be ashamed of, eh? Death is something everyone fears at some point in their lives. I am surprised it has taken you so long, but now you have a new fear to challenge - a new avenue to grow, a new path down which you can walk to find out more about yourself. You can grow greater as a person; that is not something to be ashamed of at all. Anyone who thinks that one should be ashamed to fear death has clearly forgotten their own struggles to overcome such."

Legion has posed:
Phantom thieves are complex beasts. Legion naturally assumes Phantom THief MARS is named after Mars since, really, wouldn't it be a silly to just be his initials? That's just ridiculous. Nevertheless, she does allow herself a small smile at Max's response. And small smiles are all Emi tends to give out. This is an individual characteristic away from Umi who tends to go for more medium or big smiles and Imi who is just smiling all the time if perhaps not hugely. Omi probably smiles LESS often and Shida's smiling capabilities are uncertain. Ami is probably the only one who smiles within a similar methodology. This is smile science.

"It was this great feeling of being alone." She says softly. "Of being 'individual', as I have been told that perhaps I should work on becoming more. However, we have also been told that our lack of individuality was, in a sense, one of the things that made us unique. I think I agree with this. But when I do die, will I even be myself?"

She sighs lightly. "...I suppose I am overthinking it. I will manage whichever way that turns out, I imagine. But you have feared it then, yourself?"

Maximilien has posed:
It's completely ridiculous! That's why it's /genius/. Everyone naturally assumes that MARS is named for the planet, and then goes to hunt down people associated with the planet - instead of the guy whose name spells M.A.R.S.! Misdirection is the essence of theft and magic alike. Sleight of hand is also the essence of theft and magic alike! Stage magic, not the sort with wizard spells and powers and such.

Max is, unfortunately, not a Smile Scientist, but he is Observant enough to pick up on those little traits. He reaches out, his hand pattin Emi gently on the head as she asks if she'll be alone when she dies. "I do not know, petite; no one does. Not even, I suspect, the you who came back from death. I have my feelings, my suspicions, but they are nothing more, and I am not the sort of man to give comfortable lies to make people feel better, nor do I think you would want such a thing,oui?"

He smiles, mussing her hair a bit as she asks if he had feared death. He doesn't answer for a moment; in his mind's eye, the shadows seem a bit longer, a bit stronger than they had before. He just musses her hair a bit more, then crouches in front of her, holding up a finger.

"You know," Max observes cheerfully, "There is a legend about Death that I heard a long time ago. The story goes that there once was a famous thief who bragged that he could steal anything from any hand, even Death's own. Hearing this, Death became most upset, as Death is wont to do in fairy-tale stories, oui? So Death came to the thief's house, and sat down with him, and said,"

Max puts on his best Death voice for this; he deepens his voice, covers his face with his cloak to give it that muffled, mumbly, dark sound that Death ought to have. "I have heard your boast, and I will make you a challenge. If you can steal one soul from me - just one - then I will give you the secret of immortality."

He drops the cape. "Then Death disappeared. The thief was overjoyed. The secret of immortality is a prize any thief would be proud of wresting from the hands of Death. So the Thief went to Death's home, and snuck in; he crept about while Death slept, into the secret parts of Death's house. There, in the attic, the thief found the glowing souls, all resting in a basket, waiting to be sent off to the next world. Stealthily, quietly, he reached out to take one - but he found they slipped through his hands."

Max makes a gesture, like he's trying to rapily grab air. "He continued snapping at the souls, hoping to grab one in his hands, but try as he might, the souls refused to go with him. He tried to pick up the basket, but found that its weave was too light, and the souls slipped through it like water. He tried using his thieving bag, but the souls passed through it. Finally, the thief fell to his knees, as Death entered the room."

"'Oh, sir, sir. Before you take my life, tell me - why have my talents failed me? Why can I not grab even the smallest soul in my grasp?' And Death set his hand on the thief's shoulder, and as he slipped from the world and into Death's basket, the thief understood."

"He could not steal a soul from Death because Death does not own the souls - they merely wait in his House, to be taken to their final reward."

Legion has posed:
STORYTIME.

Emi had not known Max was such a storyteller. He seems like he'd make a great kindergarten teacher, which is not for the lighthearted. Max is not the sort for comfortable lies either, which is also a good trait for a kindergarten teacher. Max seems to have a good understanding of Emi, perhaps a greater understanding of Emi than Emi, and she presses her lips together, considering his words. She never gets a chance to answer because shortly thereafter her hair is mussed up and ends up, hilariously, covering her eyes a bit. She blinks a few times and does not even move to immediately fix it up--not until she sees the finger. She uses her arm to hide another smile which is gone once she manages to get the hair out of her eyes.

Storytime, naturally, is something that can enrapture any Legion and Emi is perhaps the most susceptible of them all. Her eyes wide, she listens intently because one does not go into storytime lightly, not even a thief--and certainly not a kindergarten teacher which Max is not, but perhaps thieves and kindergarten teachers have an unexpected amount in common.

The tale is quick and to the point which is something a lot of storytellers could learn from and when it's over, Emi has a thoughtful look on her face--the story has drawn her out of her arguably unhelpful self contemplation and into contemplation regarding the tale.

"There's a few lessons that I can find from that story." One is to not inform someone you are about to rob them but since this is Phantom Thief MARS, Emi thinks better of mentioning that particular lesson--it could be seen as a bit rude. "One should be careful of which prizes they want to pilfer, some prizes cannot be owned, and I suppose another is to know when you are beat."

But...

"I think, however, what you are trying to tell me is that Death is a kidnapper and I should not show him I'm afraid since he'll have to take me to where I belong eventually."

This is ... probably not precisely what Max was meaning? Then again what else would you call a bunch of souls waiting around in someone else's home not there of their own will? The Kidnapped, of course!

Maximilien has posed:
Max likes telling stories. It's very clear in his demeanor, in how comfortable he gets when he talks, in his willingness to step outside the lines and color a little erratically with his words and actions. The little snappy thing with his hands, the bit with his cloak - he's comfortable and practiced at telling stories, especially stories to younger people. However, he laughs when Emi tells him the moral she learned. He laughs long and hard, holding his hands over his stomach and leaning agains the wall to support himself. Still, it's good, honest, cheerful laughter, and that's good - it's been a while since he laughed like that, instead of the smug laughter of the Phantom Thief.

"That was not exactly the lesson I was aiming at, petite," Max replies, mussing up her hair a bit more, "But if that is the lesson you wish to take away from it, then who am I to disagree? Death is a kidnapper who will take you away to where you must go, and so you should not fear him." He smiles, then straightens.

"Do you feel a bit better now, I hope?"

Legion has posed:
Making someone laugh an honest laugh feels Emi with a certain warmth that even makes her laugh a little herself. She'd make a horrible standup comic, at least not without a foil up there to assist her, but there's a joy in making someone else laugh and there's a reason why comics sometimes laugh at their own jokes. It's not arrogance--laughter is infectious, and perhaps in a way laughter itself is funny. Her fears have, more or less, vanished from her. And what's more, she thinks she's ready to face Shida now. Certainly she knew she would have to eventually, but this certainly made it easier.

Emi's eyes naturally have this bland expression, as if they weren't really focused on the surroundings around her, a sort of clinical detachment from the universe. But they've changed, for now, observing Max with eyes normally seen on Umi when she sees a certain hobo king. It's not so strange. Umi was drawn to a love of life, Emi's more cerebral in nature. She's starting to even enjoy the head pats.

Raising a hand to fix her hair again, she smiles behind her bangs, unguarded. It's positively blazing. Love is a good word for it. It's not intermingled with desire, it's just there in its purest form.

"Well we have to think for ourselves." She murmurs, standing up, the grin easing into something perhaps more incredible: A totally normal smile. The totally normal smile, for smile scientists (which Max is not), is not notable in its strength but for how long it lasts.

"I think I understand why Mercade trusts you, though, even though he should not? And why you have chosen him." She bows her head. "Thank you for being with me."

Maximilien has posed:
"Any time, petite. If you need me, I will be here; I do not plan to leave this agency any time soon. If nothing else, it is very amusing here, oui? Plenty of entertaining things to do when I am not out living my mad life." Max smiles, tucking his cape back around him and picking up another sandwhich. She's a sweet kid. She deserved better than the lot she'd gotten, and, well, Max had something of a soft spot for kids in that kind of situation. He was a sympathetic guy, despite being an egocentric and selfish Phantom Thief. Some people might say it was his biggest weakness.

"Au revoir, Petite; have a pleasant day, mmm? And remember the old song - don't fear the Reaper, eh?"

Legion has posed:
"Au revoir," Emi says. She's not french, of course, nor does she know the language as of yet--though Max uses some words with enough frequency that she's picking them up through context.

She smiles back at Max once more before she steps out. What could have easily been one of the worst days of her life has been transmorgified into one of the best.

A truly incredible feat. A substitution trick fit for any Phantom Thief.

"Thank you," She repeats before sliding out, humming lightly to herself--Umi's Song.