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Meeting time was late -- well after dark, beyond even the first rush of life in the clubs, late enough that people might already be considering heading home. Ilmenite was early -- settled on the fan atop a building, his legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles, his second cigarette nestled between his lips as he fumbled with a fresh lighter. It was better than the old one, sure, but getting it to light was something of a trick: the lever resisted the movement of his thumb, pressed back instead of gliding easily down.

It caught, and the end of his cigarette kindled brightly in front of his face. Behird him, smoke shifted and adjusted, the familiar form of his youma settling in against his back with one arm draped casually over his shoulders. Smokey was there in case senshi showed up. Smokey still only did about half of what Ilmenite said, but he did that half well, hopefully.

The officer's attention was turned downward, but the monsters glowing pale eyes flicked up and around, impatient for their General's arrival.

Smokey caught his eyes the second Zink appeared, and his reaction was a reflection of Ever, certainly: a quick shove in the small of Ilmenite's back, not quite enough to knock him off his perch but enough to get a grunt, a shift, head coming up as he struggled to regain his balance. There was certainly still a bruise across his cheek, his eye sunken in a mess of purple and green. It was healing -- faster than human, but it'd still be ugly for a while.

He hesitated a moment before shoving himself up to stand, the cigarette clutched beween his teeth as both hands dipped into his pockets. The first energy pearl was tossed toward Zink without warning, a flick of thumb sending it spinning, and the rest followed rapidly after that, one after the other: he expected the man to catch. Or drop them, maybe. And there were quite a few. Ilmenite could sulk and get work done at the same time -- it just hadn't really improved his mood any.

"We want to cause a little trouble." The words were muffled, followed by a draw on his cigarette -- which he then passed back to his youma. Smokey devoured it. "But need some info first."

'Effort' was a strong word for gathering energy, in Ilmenite's opinion. Effort implied something more than just leeching off a room full of clueless, drunk, dancing people, or lurking in a busy bathroom to catch the unwary when they took a moment to themselves. He made a faint noise, didn't quite smile at Zink's fumbling but -- well, that was closer than he usually came, this past week or so. This was cheerier than he'd been in a while.

God help him, maybe he'd missed Zink. Or Zac. He tried not to process that thought too hard.

"We want to ******** up Birhan's s**t." Not exactly eloquent, but it was enthusiastic. Ilmenite shrugged, both hands shoved down into his pockets. "Need to know where she usually patrols. What territory she's marked as 'hers'. What would piss her off the most..."

Smokey took the compliment better than Ilmenite, and nevermind that none of it had been his idea -- he couldn't even talk! He swept a bow to Zinkenite and then left the pair of them to talk about it. Ilmenite didn't need his youma there if he had a general; in a fight, Zink probably was more help. Of course, he was also a bigger energy signal, a beacon in the night...

"We can probably patrol some, too, in search, on top of getting everything else we might need." A shrug, more relaxed than hed been since that blow to the face, and he even risked another little twitch of a smile thinking about it.

"...don't draw too many people in, though, okay? I mean..." He wobbled a hand, back and forth, going more focused again. "Two people, it's in and out, we can hop around as needed. More than that, it becomes a problem."

"Alu -- " And a pause. It was a little awkward; he wanted to offer up the senshi's full name, but it stuck in the back of his mind and he couldn't remember anything beyond that point. That was probably bad. You should know your friends' names.

Oh well. He shrugged and left it at that, scraping fingers up through the back of his hair as he considered Zink. Self-possessed. At least someone hadn't taken the whole BMC fiasco quite so badly. It made his mouth twitch -- utterly unaware of what the other man might have done to cope. Ilmenite was a bad friend and a bad boyfriend. What else was new.

"Alu. So yeah, if you can find out about her attack, he'd probably like that. The cat's fine, so long as he doesn't hair on all the black clothing I own." He cleared his throat and dropped his hand.

"...uh. Not unless you can, you know, provide a little groundwork." And by 'groundwork', he actually meant money: Ilmenite held out one hand, fingers smoothing together in clear demonstration of exactly that fact. He had to buy some things -- t-shirts or sweatshirts, perhaps, some spray paint, a few other ideas he was chewing on -- but he didn't exactly expect Zink to be able to help supply.

Realistically, he and Alunite would probably end up stealing it. And that wouldn't be a bad thing; they could break into a store on Birhan's turf and leave a note behind, perhaps...or just nab and run.

"It's fine, though, we'll manage."

The falseness rattled against Ilmenite in a way that was woefully familiar, that made his expression relax into something vaguely worried. Perhaps he should have recognized the false good mood as what it was -- disappointment or concern -- but those weren't usually things that his significant others tossed at him. Usually, when they went false like that, it meant annoyance or frustration. Sometimes it meant he came back to find his bag sitting outside on the front stoop. With a note.

Notes sucked.

So he cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders in a shrug, eyes sliding off of Zink and away. He'd gone tense, now, like he halfway expected to get hit. Or yelled at. Or, worst of all, spoken to gently and dismissively. "Yeah, it's okay, I'm managing alright, can generally get my hands on things. We'll go out and try to find where she patrols, too, though probably in civs, so we don't give ourselves away..."

That wasn't reassuring in the slightest. Maybe a bit of elaboration would have done both of them good but -- as often as Ever'd been in relationships, that didn't mean he was good at them, not one bit. When things got weird, he cut anchor and drifted away. A part of him wanted to do it now, but that was easier said than done.

He made a noise, in reply. Just a noise, faint, somewhat dismissive, a brief flash of eyes onto Zink. He shrugged, and he waved, and he popped out without even a word in reply.

He was too certain that talking would lead to disaster.