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That earned a brightening in the pale eyes, the eyes that were so often considered to be signs of a serial killer. Perhaps, that indication was not so far off.

He moved like lightning, hand curling tight into the breast of the Generals coat pulling him downward, twisting to lever the man up with the ease of someone swinging a blanket. Once hoisted he freed a hand, driving the taller man into the filthy pavement, the free hand sweeping to lock around the wrist rising in a well trained reaction, and carrying the bladed weapon with it. He squeezed, a light squeeze without a trace of emotion in his eyes till there was a cracking sound like the splintering of a green branch.

“I am this rank… because I was willing to bargain with a senshi to keep my own officers safe. I did it, though I knew it would COST me my life.”

He said the words very quietly, though if their new audience listened hard she might pick up the words spoken so personally.

“Someday…when you stop trying so very…very hard to aggravate me, to find my buttons I will show you what remains in the rift… of my punishment. Is that something you can look forward to General?”

He shook his head slowly from side to side.

“I assign you her, because I believe you can –both- learn from each other. Much the same way I learned…when I kept not one but two teams of officer, one of which became the information division as you know it today. Is it still beneath you General? Shall I reassign her? Or was this…striking, and this information NOT what you hoped for?”

Astrophyllite rocked on her toes in surprise as Bischofite's wrist cracked - but she didn't blink, and now she knew why she'd been warned not to: the general king was lightning quick. She'd definitely seen how quickly his hand shot out, and she'd definitely heard him crack bone with just a squeeze. Right then and there, she made up her mind: the new lieutenant never wanted to be on Zinkenite's bad side the way her supervising officer was.

What she didn't understand, exactly, was how she fit into all this, or really most of what they were talking about, but that was par for the course of her experience. Astrophyllite, in her day-to-day life, seldom understood everything going on around her, and she was content to listen, keep out of the way, and anticipate that things might (or might not) become clearer to her at some point in the future.

However, the fact that both men considered training her to be a burden was abundantly clear. And she was used to being considered a burden, so she could, she thought, work with that. She could be obedient and she could be a hard worker and she could prove her worth.

The lieutenant glanced down at the ouija board in her hands. "I'll work hard," she murmured. She knew she wasn't the smartest or the strongest or the best at anything, really, but she could make up for that with enthusiasm. That was what all her teachers always said about her. "I'll work hard for both of you. I'll be good."

With wrist broken, Bischofite found himself reluctant to quip. Rather, he held his tongue of all flippant dialogue while his superior spoke in his typical string of strangely articulated phrases, culminating in the presentation of a peculiar piece of paper. Contact information? So Zinkenite now saw reason to give the misanthrope an audience? Yet the contingency that they must meet sans Negaverse garb... What exactly did the man intend, but to speak on more informal terms? However brazen Bischofite may be, Alois lacked those qualities in what may only be summarized as a lack of chaos-laden power.

However, the comment referring to his wrist only coaxed an exasperated groan from the feathered general. A sharp pulse of pain signified the sudden focus drawn to the injury. "Fair enough, Zinkenite," Bischofite conceded with weighted breath.

Sitting up drew another hiss out of him, and his good hand cupped the crushed remains of his wrist delicately. Ineffectual staccato breaths still flowed freely. I would be a fool to leave it like this, but he intends me to train her immediately... So what better than for her to learn field aid at her first lesson? Such a skill is coveted among the ranks, and as a lieutenant, her chances of survival hinge on cleverness and usefulness. While I cannot impart the former, surely I might influence the latter. And if he truly wants her trained by my heavy hand, he must content himself with the end product - be it a broken, bloodied girl or a hardened general.

And the Negaverse is in desperate need of the latter.

"Take my hand," he commanded of the girl, crossing his good arm over his body to offer her his grasp. Immediately his gaze shifted toward her, eyeing the detailing of her uniform once more to prod for obvious advantages in its design. He found it streamlined, more of less, but no outward signs of pockets stood out. Unless she intended to carry a med kit or plot her patrols around nearby clinics, field dressing might demand some extensive creativity from her. No matter - even if Astrophyllite prepared bandages from department store clothing and Scotch tape, the method was successful if she thwarted exsanguination.

Bischofite began to wince once more as he felt the splintered bone in his wrist shifting beneath the weight. The sooner she grasped his hand, the sooner they might steal away to a more private corner of the city to attempt repairing his grievous injury.

Overall, a lackluster impression at best - he would not be surprised if she treated him with the same derision as his peers absent Zinkenite's foreboding presence.