Welcome to Gaia! ::

It could have been what she said. A lack of dedication. A lack of discipline. He didn't think so, though. Not because he was so dedicated and disciplined that he deserved a promotion, but because -- if that was the way things worked then, surely, somebody like Olga wouldn't have been corrupted to a rank that meant she could deliver orders to more than half of the darkest army on earth. For all her years of dedication and discipline? Hardly.

No, no, Olga, I'm afraid friendship has everything to do with it.

Because that was why Olga had died, and why her shadow stood beside him now with such apparent disdain for the person that she used to be. What was it, Still had said?

'Did you like her because she was like a puppy you could lead around?'

What an interesting choice of words - as if Stillwaterite thought she was something more than just another dog on Metallia's leash. Proustite's lips twitched. He took another drag of his cigarette. Decided that answering Still's second question was more fun than brushing it off or lying to her.

"I was a part of a task force assembled for the specific purpose of corrupting the civilian Olga," Proustite exhaled a cloud of smoke. "All the time that we spent together, I was never able to confirm Olga's status as an order soldier. I wondered, because she knew more than was good for her, but I could never be sure."

"And then she gave herself up to protect the friend who'd lured her into the stable that day," he tilted his head to look at Still, lips quirking into a cruel smile, "It was delightfully dramatic, you should have seen it. She was very heroic. You know...." he waved his cigarette in the air as if looking for the right word, but when he spoke his voice was sharp. Something flashed in his bad eye. "Loyal."

It caught Still Jack by such surprise to have his cigarette taken away that he let out an indignant, "hey!" and swiveled on the spot to face Still. Something flickered in his bad eye again.

By the time she was done snuffing it out on the banister and depositing the cigarette in his pocket Proustite had regained most of his composure. Her insults slid over his shoulders and down his back like oil - he was the oil slick, that was, too greasy by far for any of the things she said to stick. He thought it was cute that she was trying, though. It was the first thing she'd done that reminded him vaguely of Olga - whom he still owed for tattling on him to Aurositibite.

He took advantage of how close she was standing to murmur in her ear. "Olga had a hard time accepting the truth about her situation too, you know. Even after they called the General King."

He chose to ignore her question about jealousy, because didn't know the answer. Somewhere next to them - it was impossible to tell from which direction - came the high, shrill shriek of a hyena's cackle. A woman screamed in the distance, and several people came running out of a nearby hall. Proustite stepped back, dusted off his jacket where she'd touched him. Out from around the bend of the hallway a youma hulked over to meet them, tongue lolling out of the side of her mouth.

"You asked me earlier if I had anybody I was willing to die for," Proustite put his hand on the youma's head. "I'd like you to meet Witz."

Large enough to ride with teeth that glinted sharp in the light, Witz was a great spotted hyena. One of her eyes was missing. There was an empty hole where it should have been.

"She is also terribly loyal."

'Of course you would find loyalty in a youma. Cast in the same mold, I see.

Proustite arched an eyebrow.

"You are trying very hard to hurt me, I think. I wonder why."

No, he didn't. It was beause he'd told her the truth about her corruption.

It was the only point he could see that marked a significant shift in her attitude towards him. Before that she had been indifferent. Maybe even a little bored. And now she was - so cruel, so superior.

Proustite remembered a time when being a corrupt senshi counted for nothing. Thought that her disdain for him and his youma were misplaced, when Olga had come by her rank and title by unwittingly making friends with the enemy. She had done nothing remarkable to deserve them - unless the heroism counted, which he supposed it may have, but that seemed uncharacteristically Dumbledore-y for Metallia.

He wasn't confused about how they'd gotten to this point; him and Still. They'd already talked about how he didn't have many friends in the Negaverse. He wasn't especially well liked. It was clear from things Still said now that she had certain ideas about the sort of man he was. That she had come to certain conclusions about their previous relationship - without his help. He wondered about the nature of things she'd heard, because it was also clear that she did not remember much about her life before the corruption on her own.

... unless she did remember and she was just putting him on. It wouldn't have been the first time Olga got one over on him, after all. And Still was the one who'd approached him in the mall today. Bothered by the idea of being outsmarted more than he was by her second attempt at being insulting, Proustite decided that their conversation was about to find its end.

"I know better than to try and intimidate a superior officer," he leaned over to kiss the top of Witz's head, and then straightened to smile at Still. "I only wanted you to meet her."

He wondered why no security guards had come to bother them. Kind of wished one of them had.

'You're a personification of the rhyme sticks and stone.'

Still Jack smiled. She did pay awfully close attention, didn't she? Olga had been the same way - with him, who she had not trusted, but not with Haüyne, whom she had. The main difference between them being that he was honest, from the start, about his willingness to take advantage of her. It was Haüyne who'd lied to Olga and tricked her into coming to the stables that day, and he was still the one she disliked.

That was the answer then, wasn't it? To his question about loyalty.

Tell people you were acting with the best intentions when you did horrible things to them.

"Mm. I think that I should," he shrugged, unconcerned, fishing another cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it. "Unless you order me to stay."

Beside him, Witz appeared to be grinning too.

"But you aren't going to do that, are you, sailor scout?"

Was she quirking her eyebrow at him?

Still Jack glanced over his shoulder to make sure, fresh cigarette pinched between his lips. There was nobody there. Not even a shopper. He put a hand on Witz' head, looked back at Still.

"I'll see you around," he grinned, playful as ever, and shook his shopping bags at her. "Gotta run."

He was happy to leave first. Had, in fact, made something of a career out of it - first out of the battlefield, first out of the bedroom in the wee hours of the morning... He teleported on the spot, and the space where he once stood was now empty.

Witz sniffed the air, and then turned around, headed for the exit.