2010-04-11 - Leo Stenbuck IN 'Caged Heat'

Shirogane brig LOCKDOWN

Lamia Loveless is seated in a fairly nondescript 10x10 cell, currently seated on the bed/bench and facing the small (round-cornered) table. She has a small package of candy on her left knee, and is periodically nibbling on a piece of it while looking at a 6-inch television set, unfortunately locked purely to the Shirogane's internal Military Network feed. Today's program: Wall-E, Wall-E II, and Wall-E III: Rise of the EVE.

The A-LAWS have an ongoing deal with Pixar. Sacrifices had to be made.

Halfway through Wall-E II, the door to Lamia's cell goes *chunk* as it unlocks in that delightful way that absolutely, positively communicates 'you are in federal fuck-me-in-the-ass prison, from which there will be no escape or reprieve, even though the door just unlocked', despite the fact that the Shirogane's brig is not, in fact, federal fuck-me-in-the-ass prison.

Maybe Lee Linjun had the sound effect added special?

Either way, the door slides open a moment later, and one Leo Stenbuck appears in the new opening, the duster of his A-LAWS uniform swooshing around his legs as he halts in the doorway. "Lieutenant Loveless," he offers Lamia, after a few moments of staring. Surprisingly, it is only partly at her tits; a lot of it is just the effects of actually seeing her alive again, in person, for the first time. "Can I come in?"

Lamia looks upwards, blinking a few times.

She smiles at Leo, though she doesn't rise. She does reach over to turn off the TV, which probably doesn't hurt Leo's look on the majestic bon bons (by Lemon).

When she straightens back up, she /does/ stand, folding her hands in front of her. "Of course," she says. "I do not think the rank is appropriate, however... unless there is something I've overlooked?" Generally, she has been addressed by 'Miss'.

God bless majestic bon bons.

"You're probably right," Leo concedes, weakly returning the smile. Having been invited in - which, as everyone knows, is as essential for Leo Stenbucks as it is for vampires - the young man steps through the door into Lamia's cell and closes it behind him. It goes *chunk* again.

"No one is really sure what to call you. Or what to do with you," Leo explains, taking a step further into the room and then turning to lean against the wall while still facing Lamia. "That's actually... part of what I came to talk to you about."

"But before that," he forges onwards, crossing his arms over his chest, "I'd like to ask you a few questions. If it's alright with you."

Lamia folds her hands behind her back now; perhaps it feels more healthy. "Certainly," she says. "I apologize for the closeness of the quarters, but there is not a lot of space to spare." And Leo may have realized by now: she isn't stammering.

"Do you want a piece of candy?" she adds, parenthetically, reaching for the small box.

Leo has, in fact, just realized that Lamia is talking without stuttering; he does so as she's offering him candy, and his eyebrows raise in surprise. His mouth flaps wordlessly for a moment, in response to the woman's offer, before he finally manages to blurt out, "You can talk right."

Instantly, his cheeks flush with color, and he tilts his head back to stare at the ceiling, the offer of candy forgotten. "Sorry. That came out wrong..."

"No, it's alright," Lamia says with a bow of her head for a moment. "You are correct. I still have some flaws, I am not sure why, but the synapse was damaged... there was an effort on their part to provide me with a replacement, but it was destroyed." (That's on page 437.)

"The synapse..." Leo murmurs, keeping his eyes pointed upwards for several more seconds. Eventually, he reins in his embarassment, and drops his eyes back to Lamia's, his blush replaced with a thoughtful frown.

"What are you?" he asks, bluntly. It's not hostile, or accusing; he simply doesn't know, and wants to. "A clone, a Coordinator, a machine? All of the above?  Lamia Loveless [E] has posed. "I am an artificial humanoid," Lamia says after a half second of thought, perhaps to figure out how to put it with the least risk of causing Leo a terror attack. "In a sense I am a cyborg; I am partially an organism, but it is not a human organism except for some genetic aspects." She settles down then, back towards a seated position, if only so she doesn't, like, loom.

Psht, /loom./ Lamia is only an inch taller than Leo, even if her tits /are/ the size of his head.

'Artificial humanoid' takes Leo a good ten seconds to wrap his head around, a period of time he spends staring at the ground, grimacing. When he's finally worked it out in his mind, he looks up and nods once. "Okay," he says, simply.

"So you died," he continues, after another moment of hesitation. "And the DC took your... brain, let's call it, whatever it is. And they rebuilt you... and then you came back. Why?"

"Memory core," Lamia says parenthetically, before nodding slightly.

"Because the organization is hurting people, and not even for a reason," she says, with a slight hint of polish; she has had to say it a few times, after all. "I cannot defend cruelty - perhaps at times there is a need for harshness, but they are accomplishing nothing save suffering. It was less apparent in the previous side, and I was constructed there: I have no experience prior to that."

After all of the - to put it lightly - fucking horseshit surrounding his ongoing relationship with NERV, Leo is practically /ecstatic/ that he can talk straight to Lamia and receive similarly straight answers, even if they are about exceedingly weird things.

"Very eloquent," the young man compliments Lamia's response. He pauses, as he is wont to do, and then continues, "So they rebuilt you from your... memory core... and then you defected. Why didn't whoever made you your new body - or, shit, whoever 'artificially created' you in the first place, why didn't they just reprogram you, or whatever, so that..."

He trails off, sighs, and shakes his head. "What I mean to say is... do you have free will? Or... I guess, were you /made/ with free will?"  Lamia Loveless [E] has posed. "I was not designed with it," Lamia says, after several seconds of thought. "Mistress Lemon, my creator that is to say, was however very pleased that I was able to engage in reasoned, deliberate, willing actions in contradiction of my established patterns of loyalty and programming. She was able to satisfy herself, I think, that it was not due to damage or defect, but due to the development of my -"

She makes a vague gesture in the air. "I don't know. I am extrapolating from my last conversation with her. She seemed extremely proud."

Something - only God knows what, but something - about listening to Lamia talk about 'Mistress Lemon's' pride in her makes Leo smile. A surprisingly warm one, too! "Maybe she was proud that you were... 'performing beyond her expectations'," he offers. One can hear the finger quotes, even if he doesn't actually make them wit hhis hands. "Or maybe she looks at you like a daughter, or something, and..."

He trails off again, and clears his throat awkwardly after a short pause. "Anyways," he continues. His smile softens, but doesn't fade entirely. "Is that what brought you to the Federation the first time? Did you run away, or something? Or...?"

"I think that's accurate, or at least close enough," Lamia says. She looks slightly to the side, as if in faint embarrassment. "I realize it may not be... practical... but I did note in my report, that... if it is possible, I think she could be brought over to a peaceful cooperation with your scientific community."

Or perhaps translated: Please don't kill my mommy execution-style.

"She has really excellent hair, too," she adds, parenthetically. She blinks twice, then, and says, "Oh, you mean the original infiltration. No; my original mission was espionage. However, I had abandoned it, I think, by approximately the mid-point of the Devil Gundam crisis, and as the only other known element of consequence was Axel Almer, I provided very little information to the organization in practice."

Her lips quirk up, slightly. "Did you want any of the candy?" People offer each other this stuff all the time, she reasons. And it's not like she can eat all that prickly pear jam brittle herself.

Leo's smile doesn't falter at Lamia's further comments about Lemon, but it does... change, and become more of a sad thing than an expression of friendliness. He keeps the expression all through the rest of her explanation, until, eventually, she offers him candy again.

"Sure," he accepts this time around, pushing off of the wall, and holding a hand out to Lamia to accept a delicious piece of candy.

Leo keeps talking, while he awaits his treat. "Obviously, if you were sent to spy on us, 'Mistress Lemon' is someone we're going to have to worry about," he warns Lamia. "/But/... I'd like to think that you're right."

"In my experience, a lot of scientists don't care - don't think, even - about which side they're working for, or what their creations are going to do. There's a good chance she's only working for them because they'll pay for her to keep doing what she wants to do, and she keeps creating things they can use. We'll just have to find the right button to push to get her to let us pay for them, instead."

"I don't know," Lamia says as she holds out a small candy cube. "It may be impossible, but I feel that it is my duty to ask you, even if it /is/ impossible."

The candy tastes surprisingly tart; cactus has a unique flavor that Leo Stenbuck may be unfamiliar with. Sweetish but with a tang.

She rolls her head a little. "It's probable they've already started producing the W-Series - they are not as adept as I or W-16, but they are probably comparable to your typical pilots. I do not know where they are making them; if you can discover this, I would suggest it take priority."

Her lips purse. "I don't understand Mistress Lemon fully. I imagine that is discouraging, but -" She trails off with a little breath outwards.

Before he came to Earth, Leo Stenbuck had never even heard of a cactus. There is no guarantee he even has now that he's been here for almost two years.

Leo gnaws at his piece of candy thoughtfully for a moment, and then lowers it from his mouth, and tells Lamia, "I promise I'll do what I can, but that's the best I can offer you. As for making the 'W-Series' - I can guess what that is - a priority, if there's anything you can..."

He stops suddenly, screws up his face in a scowl, and says, "You know what, no, I'm sure you've already had that talk before. I won't make you have it again." He pauses for a moment, and then opens his mouth to speak again...

... and then closes it, with a frustrated frown. He tries again a moment later, and just ends up explosively sighing. This is... kind of a complicated topic. "I... okay," he manages after a few attempts, reaching up to rub at his eyes with his left hand. "How much... I mean, you remember everything from when you were here, right? There's not anything... I don't know, missing, or damaged?"

Lamia says, "No, not really. My memory block is holographic; there are a few small details which have faded, I think, but in general I remember it well." She leans forwards slightly, perhaps to mirror Leo Stenbuck, brow furrowing slightly.

Leo grunts his understanding and continues rubbing at his eyes. Should he treat this topic with a little more care? It is, after all, bound to be especially awkward considering Lamia's status as a... well, what she is. But, on the other hand, bluntness has worked pretty well so far, so...

"You remember Graham Aker? -- well, Mister Bushido, now," the young man corrects, with a scowl. "He got himself messed up pretty bad, during the battle when you... came back. Or that's what I hear, at least."

"Things have been... especially rough for him, since you died," Leo explains, gesturing vaguely with his cactus candy. "I think he, uh... cares more about you than he lets on. Or possibly than he realizes. If you know what I mean? So... if you could, like, go and talk to him about it, at least, I'm sure he'd really appreciate it. I would, too."

"... I would not mind that," Lamia says, rather gently. "I am not sure how long until I will be free, however."

Latooni is arranging matters, but she is small, and so her hands are tiny. Tiny, tiny hands. Also it doesn't let her get back on the flight line. :(

yet

"Is that a new code name of his?" Lamia asks. "I was never quite clear where it came from."

Very tiny hands. Leo's okay with it because it makes everything else seem bigger in comparison. Like his-

"It's... sort of a... nickname somebody gave him, after he got really into all the samurai stuff," Leo explains clumsily, finally lowering his hand from his eyes.He considers, briefly, attempting to explain his personal feelings on the whole issue, on why Graham put on the mask and stopped being Graham Aker, but, well...

... it wouldn't be right of him to start broadcasting Graham's crazy and making him sound like a nut. Even if he is kind of a nut. "It's sort of meant to make fun of him, but it just... stuck."

"Look, please just go talk to him, when you can," Leo pleads. "He'll be really happy to know you're... back, and okay, and stuff. Okay?"

"Okay," Lamia says with the nod of her head.

She also asks, her tone still somewhat pleasant, almost - happy? - what is, to her, the obvious question. "Is Miss Ayanami doing well?"

It's a perfectly innocent question, which makes it very strange that, when Lamia asks it, Leo's face pales and he makes a sound like he's just been punched in the stomach. The piece of candy in his hand tumbles out of it to the floor, and he takes a few steps back that are not actually so much steps as they are a controlled stagger, slumping against the wall once again.

The question came totally out of nowhere, and he was not prepared for it in the slightest. Leo grits his teeth and forces back a sudden surge of anger at Lamia; it isn't her fault, he reminds himself. She died before Rei did. She had no way of knowing, especially not with the other one marching around out--

Leo takes a deep, shaky breath, his shoulders trembling slightly, his eyes fixed on the ground. When he speaks, it sounds like he's about to start crying. "No," he says, voice clipped. "She died."

Lamia considers the matter.

"... I'm sorry," she says, quietly. "I did not mean to offend you. She had not been mentioned, and I had thought I recognized Evangelion Unit Zero in the New York conflict.

She lowers her head for a moment of further silence, then looks back up. "Please accept my condolences." She is probably going to be confused abruptly at some point in the not too distant future.

Leo reaches up to wipe at his eyes with the back of his hand - a useless gesture, since they're bone dry. He forces himself to put on a small smile, and assures Lamia, "It's okay. She got better, too." Both the expression and the words come out with rather more aimless venom than he intended them to.

And then, apparently, Leo decides that topic is over. In fact, not just that topic, but Small Talk, full stop; he clears his throat again, pushes off the wall, and folds his hands behind his back. When he next speaks, his voice has hardened.

It is, as they say, Business Time.

"I'm running short on time, so we'll have to axe the small talk. Sorry." Leo nods his head at the bed/bench in the cell, and urges, "Please sit down. We need to talk about your future."

Lamia's brow furrows. She does not, however, ask.

It seems like it might be a bad idea.

She settles down onto the bunk, hips shifting a little as her hands fold in her lap. "Alright. Please go on." Inwardly, she wonders: What does this mean? Hopefully if they are going to put her on some dark project, she will be able to still contact the others. That would be nice, at any rate.

"Like I said," Leo begins, "No one is sure what to do with you. Legally, you were dead, and to my knowledge you still are. As you can imagine, this... complicates things, especially when combined with what you've told us about your nature, and your original reason for enlisting. Some people doubt your loyalty."

Leo pauses, to let that sink in and to grimace. Back to politicking; he misses being able to talk bluntly with Lamia already. "However," he continues, after a few beats, "Even the brass aren't stupid enough to ignore the fact that you obviously want to help in whatever way you can. Which is why I've been asked to come here and make a suggestion."

"Very soon, Commander Britai Kridanik will be leading a small task force on a... special operation. Very secret, very dangerous. I don't know the specific details." LEo pauses again. "It has been... recommended... that you volunteer for this operation."

"Doing so would cast you in a very favorable light," Leo explains, frowning. "Especially now. And it will give us time to sort out all the little problems brought up by you coming back from the dead."

Or, Leo notes bitterly, make fixing them a nonissue. God bless the Federation; always keeping their priorities in order.

Lamia listens.

Then she nods once. "OK," she says. "I would be glad to do so. Will it be possible for me to gain more details?"

Lamia, of course, is aware of the flaws of the Federation government. Indeed, that was part of what she saw. Logically speaking, it is a rotten edifice which should collapse into a series of high-tech warlords until such times as the supplies run out, at which point most of the Earth Sphere will collapse into either penurious survival in space colonies, or simply mass death, as everything breaks. In a thousand years perhaps a post-human society will emerge from whoever survives; it's happened before.

And yet.

And yet, they have overcome menaces surpassing that of the organization. Why? Perhaps a god watches over them; perhaps they manipulate reality; perhaps, like ivy on a wall, their strength is simply not obvious. And they are kind; even if, perhaps, that kindness is a side effect, like the radiation from a fission engine.

She adds, perhaps to ease Leo, "You don't have to worry about offending me, about these things."

"I'm glad," Leo says, quietly. Then he coughs once, and continues, "I'm sure more information is available." He pauses, and then unclasps his hands where they're folded behind his back, to gesture broadly and helplessly before adding, "But not from me."

"As far as I know, they're withholding all information, except to those who volunteer. All I know is that you'll probably be operating outside of MS, at least partly, and that you'll be gone for upwards of two weeks," Leo explains. "I'm sure once you've officially volunteered, you'll be briefed."

"Although... that might be difficult, from in here," he realizes, frowning. "I guess I'll have to talk to Commander Kridanik about you volunteering. They'll contact you afterwards, probably."

"That is alright," Lamia says agreeably. "I am a bit tougher than usual, which I suppose may be useful to them. You will contact them?"

She rubs the bridge of her nose. "I... am sorry that I do not have much else to say. I appreciate your visit."

"It's fine," Leo assures Lamia, with a brisk nod. He reaches up to press two fingers into his neck, just under the ear, and for a brief moment, his eyes unfocus. "I should be going, anyways. I'll talk to Kridanik... until then, if you need anything, please get word to me. I can at least try to make sure you're comfortable."

Leo's eyes focus back on Lamia again, and he takes a few sideways steps over to the door, pounding his fist on it a few times. It goes *chunk* yet again, and begins to slide open.

Lamia says, curiously, "You have almost all made that offer. Why? I have not been deprived; they have even given me a television."

Leo, of course, may have no way of knowing this, but other than a steady diet that appears to be about half the proper ration of what she should eat at her size and mass, plus a package of prickly pear candies and a portable TV, she has been content enough to sit and wait.

The question takes Leo a little off guard. He's offered several prisoners whatever creature comforts he can get them, and the answer has always been 'Thank you', never 'Why?'

The door finishes opening behind him, but Leo just frowns at Lamia, reaching up to scratch at the back of his neck. "Because you're my friend, I guess," he decides, after a few moments. "And I don't like that you're locked up in here. I mean... I know we're not exactly close, or anything, but I was sad when you died. And I'm glad it didn't stick."

"Oh," Lamia says, seeming slightly surprised; she does, however, smile, saying afterwards, "I think I understand." Perhaps, she thinks, part of it is that I have not called upon it...

After that, she remains silent, which is perhaps not the warmest thing she could do. At the same time, for a soulless mechanical abomination with big bon bons...

Awk-waaard.

Leo stands there in silence for several seconds, shifting his weight from foot to foot, before he says, "So I'll let them know. If I don't see you again before you leave... good luck. Bye." He turns, and exits the cell; the heavy metal door slides shut behind him.

It goes *chunk* for a fourth time.