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It seemed completely unreasonable to take a day off. After a full night of quiet sleep - courtesy of the sleeping medication prescribed by the clinic - Aila detected no traces of fatigue on her person and was as ready as ever to take on any and all assignments. The possibility that the fatigue was linked not only to stress but to a slight anemia resulting from her poor diet as of late, however, was enough for an order releasing her from duties for the day to be forwarded to her superiors, along with a note to herself that she was to abstain from activities that would cause any physical or mental strain.

This left painfully little entertainment remaining on the base, limited only to an entire day of mindlessly viewing the various DVDs accumulated in the rec room. The thought had little to no appeal. Camphoreon wasn't far, of course, but what would she do there? Locate the nearest bookstore, pull up a chair in the reference section, and begin studying - the very thing she had been told not to do. And if the medical facilities weren't satisfied with her condition, she'd likely have another day of nothing to do ahead of her. The most clear solution was to find someone to accompany her, but that lead only to another question. Asch didn't seem the sort to want to go into town without a distinct purpose. She hadn't seen Lilith in ages and assumed it was because the woman was busy. Liam had gone on some trip or another without any indication of when he'd be back. Inigo would obviously be occupied with his duties...

It would be approximately 10:30 in the morning that Izaya would receive a message on his pokedex: If you have any need/want to go into town today, come to the garage. The agent, having foregone her usual uniform for a more casual, summery outfit, would be leaning patiently against a wall in the designated location, her legs crossed at the ankles and her arms folded behind her back. She would wait for half an hour for a reply, she decided, before proceeding on her own.

She faced more or less away from the direction from which he approached, but the sound of footsteps alerted her to Izaya's arrival far sooner than he announced his presence. Aila turned only slightly, regarding the trainer with a sidelong gaze that in part betrayed her own lack of confidence in her decision. It probably would have been wiser to choose some grunt at random to accompany her, but not only would that have pulled an otherwise productive Rocket from their duties, it also would have been a blatant and unnecessary abuse of power.

Her doubts were dismissed in swift order, the standard air of mild self-assuredness quickly returning to the agent's demeanor. "I believe eight hours of undisturbed sleep is more than enough bed rest for one day," she replied, brushing off the accusation airily. A slight sound of amusement responded to the comment of turning him into authorities. "Certainly, if you'd like. We can call it a competency test. If you can manage to break out of prison and return to the base, you pass." A slight shift in her posture accompanied the shift in her attitude, though her previous stance had indicated similarly little of the jesting nature of her words.

"It seems I'm on direct orders to not do anything I enjoy today," she explained. It was a rare day that the restrained, work-oriented agent used such a quantity of sarcasm - and none of it bitter, accusatory, or otherwise negative. "If I linger here, I'm bound to find my way into something I shouldn't, and a similar problem arises if I'm by myself in Camphoreon. And as horribly boring as a day away from studying and training sounds, a second day of the same sounds far more than twice as unattractive." Her gaze wandered, settling on arbitrary elements of the garage: not as a means of veiling some sort of embarrassment on the subject but as an instinctive show of genuine disinterest in the idea. She really would have preferred to do something more productive with her time...

"Anyway," she continued, redirecting her thoughts with a slight shrug, "I grew up in Camphoreon, but I never really paid any attention to what the city offered in terms of leisure, let alone actually use or evaluate the merit of said leisure. It seems you would be relatively well-versed in the area." Well, but that did come down to what exactly he categorized as leisure...

"There's no such thing as 'catching up,'" she replied dismissively. "It's a gradual process. If you sleep less for several days in a row, sleeping excessively for one night does nothing to pay off the debt that was accumulated." She seated herself in the vehicle, drawing the door shut behind her and pulling the seatbelt across herself. A brief sound of mild amusement responded to the threat, regardless of how serious he was or was not. "You should probably avoid saying things like that in places with security cameras, even if you don't mean it. You are still on probation." Her typical scolding tone was absent from the reprimand, giving it more of an air of friendly advice.

She took mild offense to the term 'workaholic,' however, "You know, I handle my work very well when I'm not also keeping watch on trainees who intentionally and deliberately go out of their way to cause trouble." Somehow the declaration offered even less assurance than would silence or even an implication in favor of the opposite.

The question, random for only the time before she considered the possibility of its origin, caused her to raise a brow incredulously. "Not in the sense that I find it wise to spend money frivolously." Especially not after spending so much her life saving her earnings and living so frugally.

"I can't say I've ever specifically had my sense of humor praised, unfortunately." She left it to interpretation what that said in regard to her thoughts on his jest.

A sidelong glance bordering on a glare responded to his dismissal. "Of course, I forget that humans have no control over their thoughts and actions. Clearly it is through no fault of yours that you called him a blushing maiden." She made no effort to mask the sarcasm from her tone. "However, my intent today was not berate you for being incapable of holding your tongue, so let's move on from that." Painful as it was to do so. How in the world he continued to insist that he had no hand in planting the dynamite for Seth's explosion was beyond her understanding.

She shrugged at the mandate, "I'm not adverse to it. I just find it silly to buy things for the sake of buying things." Thoughtful eyes watched traffic as it approached and passed, languid and disinterested. "Of course, it's good to build a solid repertoire in our line of work. You never know how you'll be expected to dress or how much notice you'll have." The comment reminded her that her best dress had been all but destroyed the past winter by stray bullets and shards of glass...

"I laugh when I feel the inclination," she assured, though it wasn't much of an argument given how infrequently she felt said inclination. In fact, taking that frequency into consideration, it was a very poor argument indeed - though of course she wouldn't bring that up.

Her expression soured slightly at how casually he responded. "You underestimate the rate of the spread of gossip in a workplace that's also a living space, it seems. And given that practically the entire tech department overheard that fiasco..." She felt her conclusion voiced itself. The fact that one could earn such infamy in so little time was... almost frightening. Passingly Aila wondered if she had ever done anything to earn similar whispers. She had fallen asleep in the laundry room that one time, but... well, would Leonard make anything out of that? Actually, she couldn't answer that wonder; she didn't know Leonard well at all. Hm.

Though when all was said and done, she was likening an accidental nap in a public place to implicating Elite Agent Seth as a woman. The notion assuaged any building concern.

"Mm, I'm not sure that's clothing in the same sense, though... A sheet of paper can afford as much protection if manipulated properly - though I suppose at that point it becomes clothing as well, doesn't it?" She deftly caught the keys and tucked them into a pocket, disembarking from the vehicle as well. "There aren't so many incognito assignments as you might expect, actually... Or perhaps there are, and I simply don't see any of them because I specialize in concealed infiltration rather than disguised infiltration." A slight shrug; she had never really considered the possibility before, though it was a distinct one. "I'm not sure about the benefits of being fashionable for the sake of itself, but in a society where our entire character is summarized by a single glance, it can never hurt to take care of appearances."

Aila had always held it as a fact that she had little propensity for idle conversation, and though she found the dialogue strange, she also found that she had little difficulty contributing. It was as simple as turning internal thoughts external, it seemed. She made a silent note of this, alongside a mentally marked question of how one determined if one's words were anything the conversing party cared to hear.

"I would go as far as to say that Rockets are even more prone to gossip," she replied. "We live and work in the same environment day after day with little time for a change of scenery, so generally speaking we jump at the opportunity to entertain ourselves." She spoke collectively out of habit, despite feeling contrarily on the matter herself. It was difficult not to overhear gossip, but she at least avoided propagating it. "I think the fact that it involved Seth made it all the hotter the topic, especially to those working directly under his supervision... You know that he isn't the most well-liked man on base."

Though Izaya's evident pride on the matter didn't go unnoticed, it did go without comment. Pride was a dangerous emotion to hold on to, often evolving into arrogance and overconfidence. And when the first round of that arrogance had led to detainment and almost to execution... She gave a mental shudder.

A slightly indignant expression was her only response to the peals of laughter. "Either your mind is dirtier than you think or you've never seen the sorts of things paper can be fashioned into," she remarked. She'd seen processes applied to paper to make it just as soft and pliable as any fabric, the resulting sheets capable of being arranged into completely wearable designs. She had no intent of going that deeply into the argument, though.

"That sort of thing is more for snipers than stealth infiltrators," she deflected offhandedly. "Light, dark-colored clothing, speed, and the cover of night. It's a more honest means of breaking in than wearing a disguise, I think... if that makes sense." Her intense hatred of being deceived had led to a distaste for deceiving others; she was capable and willing, but where the choice presented itself she always opted for the more straightforward of the two.

She nodded in acknowledgment of the gesture and entered the store, evaluating the interior with a cursory glance. Unfortunately, her quiet demeanor meant she wouldn't speak on her past unsolicited, regardless of how intriguing she felt the listening party would find it. It hardly even occurred to her to speak of her past, though it was in her thoughts frequently.

"He doesn't need to be popular to perform his duties," she shrugged. In her opinion, it was his skill and sense of duty that made the executive most admirable. Greater than the part of her that understood Rockets that wanted a friendlier superior was the part of her that couldn't comprehend why so many of them couldn't respect and learn from him.

"Nuance," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "Sheets come in different sizes, after all. If you're suggesting I demonstrate with a standard letter-sized page, then I would call you ridiculous." And clearly of a dirtier mind than he thought.

"Well, I dare not imply that I'm at all familiar with the work of a sniper," for she was far from that, "but I know that if our supervisor asked me to retrieve an item from some facility while dressed as a bush, I would have quite the time of it..." Perhaps if said facility were outdoors and sparse in greenery, but it would prove an incredible inconvenience in practically any other situation. She much preferred her black stealth suit.

She tilted her head slightly at the question, humming in thought. "Maybe," she replied at length. "I was very small at the time, though, if so... I know Mother squandered her money on frivolities such as clothing, but I don't especially remember being a part of the selection process myself." Aila wasn't particularly secretive, but she generally only answered as much as she was asked. Assuming she had fulfilled Izaya's curiosities on the subject, she surveyed the store's interior slightly more thoroughly. Her expression betrayed little in the direction of interest, and she awaited the other Rocket's lead.

Unless pressed to anger, 'ridiculous' was quite possibly one of the more venomous words Aila could use in insult. If nothing else, she was politely restrained in her word choice. "Perhaps," she replied idly, even dismissively. "I suppose a word's connotation varies from person to person."

She waited patiently as Izaya laughed, shrugging at his comment, "Good to know you're so easily amused." Perhaps he simply had a more vivid visual imagination than she did.

She was prepared to ignore his evaluation, but his ensuing behavior made it clear that he had no intent to drop the act until she played along properly. She breathed a slight sigh, "Very well, have it your way."

A sudden half turn fluttered the ends of the scarf, hands raising to touch the fabric around her neck. An uncharacteristic smile accompanied the gesture. "Oh, this is nice! But I have a coat in this same color, so I should probably look for something a little darker..." A practiced grace exaggerated movements to fit the character she employed as she maneuvered around the mannequin to the rack of similar scarves behind it. She folded the scarf Izaya had placed on her person over her arm, plucked one of a different hue from the stand, and flicked it into place on her shoulders. "I bet this one would match better!" She inclined her head against her shoulder in a half pose, a deliberately raised eyebrow begging the silent question: Are you satisfied?

Though she specialized in concealing herself, Aila had spent more than a year studying and practicing theater. It was an obvious act - enough to fool a stranger, but completely transparent to anyone who knew her. It was also tiring and vaguely demeaning; she hoped it would be enough to either satisfy Izaya or prove to him that he could not coerce her to act so foolishly with any degree of sincerity.