Welcome to Gaia! ::

Aila growled at the sound at her door, throwing her book to the ground in sheer frustration. If it wasn't one thing, it was certainly another. Couldn't the world just let her read in peace? She proceeded across the room at a brisk pace, halting momentarily to glare at the Metang that had last interrupted her by deciding that it no longer wished to stay in its pokeball.

"Damned if this isn't you fault somehow," she accused. Pitre stared with an indiscernible confusion in its crimson gaze. The little human was in a foul mood again. What else was new? It muttered a quiet "meta" in reply. The inside of its pokeball picked up WiFi quite poorly, and it would suffer any insult if it meant it could browse the internet freely.

Aila sighed in irritation at the lack of a penitent response and pulled open the door. The woman standing on the other side seemed familiar, but she couldn't place why...

"Yes?"

"Ah." She had been warned that such an agent would come by, hadn't she? "Aila. Though you probably know that if you're supposed to be supervising me." She took a step backwards, allowing the door to swing open a little wider. "I'm afraid I don't have anything particularly interesting on my agenda, and watching a person write isn't the most thrilling form of entertainment in the world... but you're welcome in if you want."

"Meta, metang?" Pitre had crept forward to see this new person. Its first question was which forums she frequented, then it would solicit webcomic recommendations, then it would find out which were her favorite memes...

"If you," Aila thrust an indicative finger in the steel type's direction, the suddenness of her movements causing it to recoil, "won't stay in your pokeball, then at least stay out of the way!" Pitre sullenly retreated back to its corner, eyes lingering on the blonde woman.

"I'd bet that half the things we do are done because we don't have a choice. Reasons don't hardly matter at the end of the day, though." It was an offhanded remark, more murmured to herself than spoken to her company. She grabbed a clipboard with a few leafs of paper clipped to it and seated herself on her bed, fishing around the contents of her nearby desk for a pencil.

"You're free to sit on the bed if the chair's uncomfortable," she said, gesturing to the unused mattress. Pitre moved away from it as she did. "Roommate's in the infirmary. He won't be back for a while." She frowned at the memory of said roommate. Poor Liam... If she hadn't sent him off on his own, he likely would have come out of the raid in better shape...

She took the silence as an opportunity to begin outlining the notice, by and large ignoring the scrutinizing stare she was receiving from Nikki. The question brought a smile to her face, and she set her elbow on her knee, resting her chin in her palm and turning eyes vibrant with delight on the agent.

"Oh, yes. You should have seen his face. Her father's, I mean. It was wonderful." She redirected her attention to the paper, but the smile remained. "All I regret is that I didn't kill him too. That's the whole reason I was there. It was sloppy of me to miss the opportunity." Her grin slipped into a scowl, a dissatisfied 'humph' accompanying the admission. She tapped the point of her pencil against the paper distractedly. It was a bit difficult to outline the wrongs of unsanctioned murder while reveling in the memory of the same.

Aila pursed her lips and turned to a fresh page. Her notes had become a bit too muddled to extract a cohesive document from them. Footnotes and cross referencing did not a clear and concise statement make.

"Yes," she said with a thoughtful hum. "Were it not for his folly, my mother wouldn't be dead and I wouldn't be a thief." She twirled the pencil around her fingers idly. "I suppose that sounds awfully selfish, but it was awfully selfish of him to kill my father so he could rise to power. Reap what you sow, is it?" His daughter's blood had repaid that of their father, and his own life would match that of their mother. It was only just.

She leaned backwards slightly, stretching her back and shoulders. "It's my promise to kill him, and I don't intend to give that up. I must say, though, I do enjoy the thought that he is mourning his daughter's death as we speak." Her expression softened, as though she were dreaming a sweet dream. "Living a life of sorrow and grief until a death dealt by the hands of his own sister... Yes, that does sound good. Perhaps it was divine intelligence that he escaped with his neck."

Though unaware of it herself, Aila appreciated the company. She had been delivering similar rants into the silence since returning from the raid, and it was unexpectedly pleasant that that silence should be filled with a reciprocating voice.

"Yes." She was aware of the likely consequences, and she didn't care. "I don't care what happens once he's dead. I don't anticipate living very long after that, really. I imagine some bodyguard's bullet will find me, or I'll be locked away to rot for insubordination, or who knows what else. It would be nice if I could continue to live, but I'm under no delusions. There's nothing more I want from life than his death anyway."