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Ilmenite really enjoyed the surprise of teleporting into a place unannounced but -- well. When he didn't know the place, it was a risky endeavor. That meant that, today, he approached from down the street, on foot, pausing outside the door to take the place in.

It should have seemed a strange place to meet an Officer, but instead it made him grin, thinking of once-upon-a-time harassing Zed at work. Too much chocolate around the apartment.

He could find his way inward and to the office, hands in his pockets and hat carelessly crooked on his head as he settled in the doorway, struggling to suppress the grin to something more stern, dark eyes settled on Buddy. Hopefully, he looked an intimidating site

"Bribery?" At least it sounded dry, more amused than annoyed.

Ilmenite really had been out of town too long if people were actively afraid of him -- or maybe, finally, he was starting to do something right. His eyes flicked from the bourbon to the rest of the office, perhaps searching for the rest of the booze, and strongly considering the benefits of something strong --

"Maybe after we're done." But he was trying so hard to do things right, just now. Slowly, he sank down into the chair, stretching his legs out and propping an elbow on its arm to just watch Buddy. It was an effort to avoid the glass, the smell of alcohol. That was probably a bad sign.

He'd indulge after.

"I doubt that your side of the story is going to change much, but you can have a go, and then I'll have a go." He gestured with his free hand, hat cocked thoughtlessly on his head.

Pretty much exactly what Mica'd said, then; but Ilmenite didn't say anything for a moment, didn't react, just frowned a little and watched Buddy shift uncomfortably. This was all a mess, and it wasn't one he had a lot of experience dealing with. A struggle not to fidget himself.

"...do you know anything about me?" The tone was genuinely curious. The nerves showing led Ilmenite to guess no -- but then, he had been out of town for the better part of a year.

"I mean, have you heard anything about me? What are you expecting?"

"That's what I'm talking about, then." He huffed out a breath, looking away instead -- around the office, somewhere obviously important to Buddy's human life. Whether it was intended as such or not, Ilmenite read a certain level of implied trust into the location, inviting him somewhere private --

"I don't know who else you've dealt with, but that's not me." Surely Mica would, here, glare at him quietly without actually saying anything; would play polite and internalize her disapproval. Ilmenite smiled, instead, a crooked sort of smile. "What would you learn from that? It's not an effective form of punishment."

His eyes resettled onto Buddy, head tipped just a little bit. "The point is to give you a punishment that will teach you not to do it again. So, that's what I've had to think on. I can't very well tell you to cut off contact with her, as it would make her suspicious as to why...."

So. He paused, taking a moment of silence to think. "More importantly, it could make other people suspicious as why. Already, they know she has connections in the Negaverse; they know she's important to someone out there, even if they don't know exactly who it is. People will assume she's important, somehow, to you. The smart ones could take advantage of this, kidnapping her, torturing her, sending a message through the Negaverse that they have her --"

Here he paused again, blinking at Buddy, waiting to see if that would sink in. Ilmenite, at least, thought this was far scarier than beating the s**t out of someone.

"We're talking about the same ones who kidnapped Negaverse Officers and tortured them until we stormed in and --" A pause, at that; there had been just a touch too much heat to Ilmenite's voice, too much flash in his eyes, for him to be comfortable with that. So he sat back, instead, absently smoothing a thumb over his palm through his gloves, trying not to think about it too hard.

"-- if they knew your civilian identity, do you think they'd fail to grab you off the streets and haul you in for questioning?" It was careful, this time, more even, his head cocked to the side. "To push and prod until you admitted your other name? I think that, if they were smart, they would most definitely pick up your friend and use her against you."

He shook his head, adjusting how he sat and meeting Buddy's eyes, seriously. "So you've met the soft ones. Do you think that means there are no battle hardened senshi out there? If there aren't, why do you train?"

Mostly, these days, the BMC was dissolved -- mostly, Buddy would be safe. Ilmenite knew this, in some part of him, but at the same time ,it was hard to forget time spent winding their way through traps to rescue lost officers. His initiation into the Negaverse had been, perhaps, a bit rougher than Buddy's.

Kids these days. Had it so easy.

Still. It was good to remind the man that trouble could come down on them, that not everyone on the other side was about good vibes and friendship. He scrubbed a finger up the bridge of his nose, considering his answer slowly. There was already a plan in the back of Ilmenite's mind. He just had to get it into words.

"Drain her." It was direct. Straightforward. But also, possibly, complex. "I want you to find her, in uniform, and I want you to bring me energy. I want you to leave her woozy, but not dead; take enough to show you're serious, but not to do permanent damage."

He looked up, worked to meet Buddy's eyes, his own eyebrows raised. Serious. "Do it somewhere public. Make sure someone sees."

Ilmenite shook his head at that, briefly, sharply, gesturing away the last of the questions from where he sat. With that out of the way, he looked more relaxed. The hard part done, and the rest of it wasn't, really, his problem. Something that Buddy would hopefully realize and understand.

"You want the White Moon to see. You're sending a message to them. She's just another battery, someone to further our cause; not a specific target, just someone you happened upon, and it's up to you to make that work." It wasn't terribly helpful, but this was discipline as much as it was a lesson. Ilmenite shifted, rolling up to stand, and adjusted the hat on his head.

"I'm sure you can manage it." As he said this, Ilmenite finally reached out for the glass of bourbon on the table, ice now mostly melted. Would Buddy be horrified or impressed at how quickly he shot it back?