Copious research on politeness, proper reciprocation of favors, and general culture-refined etiquette led Shale to the conclusion that cooking dinner for someone was both welcome and appropriate when soliciting another request of a superior officer. As partial youma, he surmised that she was likely disallowed in restaurant establishments, grocery stores, and most other food locales due to her appearance - and given the incidence of hunters in DC, he guessed again that food grew scarce for her. And since everything ate, the chances of turning a meal down grew very slim by comparison.

Umber trekked the distance to the discussed location with a reused grocery bag in hand, though he found it difficult to surmount some of the taller buildings en route to the remarkably ornate bank near the eastern side of the financial district. He knew the building sported rooftop access, and a number of clear plexiglass panes to offer shelter from windier nights, so he considered the location an obvious choice for discussion purposes. However, actually reaching that rooftop point proved entirely troublesome, and he very nearly gave up on the endeavor before he discovered another architectural detail mimicking a waterfall on the southern side.

Once he landed on the roof itself, Umber took a seat at one of several patio chairs positioned around stone tables. A meticulous garden contained within raised brick planters formed a curious circular shape about the gathering area, and further toward the edge of the building offered another space entirely clear of chairs, yet a bar sat near its edge. He saw no further alterations to the space.

Umber finally opened the takeout bag to place three separate glass containers on the table - one contained freshly-prepared spaetzle, another with a tossed salad of crisp green leaf lettuce, cucumber, pear for sweetness, grated carrots, red chard and spinach. The largest of the three containers housed a braised venison made with cognac and rosemary, shiitake mushrooms, sliced green onions and a variety of other seasonings in a thick sauce with bacon drippings as its base. With those containers came a bottle of merlot to accent the flavor. Utensils were provided, as he did not expect the captain to carry a fork with her at all times.

With the table prepared, Umber awaited for Cinnabar’s arrival. Only afterward did he realize that inviting heavy discussion over a meal seemed entirely counterproductive.

I’ll just hope she is a fast eater.

The call had been… unexpected. It was rare that anyone called for her who was not among her small circle and rarer still to ask for something as benign as conversation. Sparring, training, yes. Talking? It had literally never happened before and Cinnabar wasn’t entirely sure what to do with it… but Umber had trained under her before and she was trying to make an effort at being a decent Captain, so she’d said yes, figuring she’d… work it out on the fly.

Preparing involved little in the way of effort. Not that she needed to prepare anything to impress him, but… some measure of ‘cleaned up’ was called for. That was taken care of easily with some concentration, refreshing her uniform to leave it clean and well maintained. Lounging in her room, sprawled in a comfortable chair, she lazily killed time before when Umber had said to meet him. The clock on the wall was the only way to track time and she watched it from under her lashes, the hands sluggishly ticking around the face. The moment it hit the proper time, she flickered and was gone from her chair, the upholstery slowly refilling as her weight left it.

Far away, silver heels thunked on the rooftop as Cinnabar swaggered towards her meeting, hips swinging with the motions of her tail. There was a familiar head of unruly black hair waiting for her and her smooth steps hesitated as something appetizing wafted to her nose. The rhythm picked up with the next step as she approached a bit more cautiously now, pupils shrunk to slits and an aching pain in her midsection as ever-present hunger made itself known once more. <********, I’m starving… he’s brought food?

“Lieutenant Umber.” Cinnabar greeted him as she circled the table, her thickened fingers curled around her belt. “Are you planning to eat your dinner before or while talking to me?”

Umber let his gaze settle on the cityscape beyond the plexiglass while thoughts drifted between a surfeit of subjects, always tethering to his concerns involving the Negaverse. The frigid night air teased gooseflesh out of his arms, though he barely noticed it beneath the weight of considerations. Only when Cinnabar approached and greeted him with title did he finally sit up straight and take his eyes off the writhing reflections of headlights that echoed off the building beyond.

“Captain, no, I already ate. I’ve heard it’s better to reward when asking favors. Xenotime’s fridge would not hold all the meat, so it would spoil if I did not use some of it. It is for you.” With gaze still on her, Umber reclined back against the chair and crossed one leg atop the other, with ankle pressed to knee. “I’ve also heard it’s rude to eat without offering to others?” Which holds other implications here, but memorization of this culture already proves frustrating.

“I asked you here because I have some concerns regarding the Negaverse. I’ve met a few of its officers now, and none seem welcoming or interested in offering training of any sort, despite receiving no training of their own in their earliest years. It seems counterproductive to me to foster a cold attitude toward newcomers in a highly organized group. Is there a reason for their behavior? Is something amiss in the Negaverse that encourages malcontents? I do not know enough about the Negaverse to understand their stance on officer relations.

“But those are not my only questions. I want to know what purpose it serves to gather energy, and why so much is demanded regularly. You said before that the Negaverse prefers a dead senshi with starseed in hand over a dead senshi due to the energy given by starseeds.” It would be folly to say this implies desperation - I do not know her well enough to state such personal evaluations. “There has to be some reason to it - some entity or machine that cannot adequately generate energy on its own.

“And lastly, I want to know more about youma. I have heard that they were once human. Is this correct? Are they capable, then, of switching between monster and human forms at will, like us?”

It was hard to drag her eyes away from the food on the table and her stomach gave an embarrassing growl, obviously audible and pulling a frown onto her face. She cleared her throat to cover it as she snagged a chair and dragged it out, dropping down into it with a lazy grace. In the instant between standing and sitting, her form changed abruptly and as she settled back, it was a normal seeming woman that sat across the table from the lieutenant. She controlled herself with an effort from falling immediately on the food, tension in her slouch.

“People don’t cook for me… much, anyway.” Cinnabar said as she drummed her thin(er) fingers on the arm of her chair. “It is proper to reward favors, but usually it is with a favor in return at a later date… though its debatable that a superior officer should be trading favors with an underling. Its my duty to train you and to an extent, offer you support. I would have answered your questions without a bribe of food.”

Cinnabar’s head tilted to the side as she considered the young man, trying to keep her eyes off the food. “You should power down. We’ll draw less attention without our signatures.”

The half-youma considered the questions he asked and abruptly decided to put off her answer as she reached for the food, the temptation it offered too much to resist any longer. ******** it. She was hungry, the food was for her, she was going to eat it. She didn’t bother dishing any out and simply pulled the containers close, a forkful finding it’s way into her mouth to be chewed thoughtfully.

“Upper level officers are required to supervise and train lower ranked ones. Its how things are done. If someone is refusing you training, they should be reported to their superior.” She said once she had swallowed, ignoring what would be considered proper manners by propping her elbows on the table and eating while she talked. The food was fabulous... more care taken in its preparation than she had ever bothered doing for herself. Either it was simply how he was, or someone was trying to suck up to her… she wasn’t sure which was more likely. “If someone was cold, it was probably for personal reasons and they should be reprimanded for it… but its a thing that happens. Maybe you rubbed someone wrong, I don’t know. I can’t say I haven’t had my share of poor interactions with other officers.”

The woman shrugged as she ate another mouthful.

“Mmm… Energy is collected because Metallia demands it. She is our queen and leader, we gather the energy for her and the chaos that sustains us comes from her. The energy can support us as well… if you eat an orb, or even a starseed, it will give you a temporary burst of energy. Just don’t make a habit of it, unless you want to end up like me. Merging with a youma is not the only way to grow youma parts.” Her lips curled in a smile, and though they were blocky and straight seeming as any human’s, there was the suggestion of missing fangs. “Youma are humans who have been overfilled with chaos energy. It twists them into a new form and it gives them new abilities… but they are ever after dependent on energy to survive. The Rift is full of ambient energy and is where they live… a youma can only exist outside of it for as long as its energy reserves hold out. They can’t take human form, and technically, neither can I… what you see here is glamour. Its hard for a normal youma to hold though, and they only do it in special circumstances. I can only hold this illusion for a few hours before I run out of energy to sustain it.”

Umber’s eyes widened when the strange additions to her body simply evaporated in a blink, leaving a tan-skinned woman before him with no indications toward a more monstrous exterior. It left him leaning to the side of the table to search for the missing tail, though he found no signs of it. He might’ve considered her appearance a dream, had she not instructed him earlier that her current form was the result of folly. Satisfied that no traces remained, Umber sat up straight and watched her take in the meal in a markedly human manner.

“Like I said, some of the meat would spoil if I did not cook it tonight. Bribery is not something I’ve needed to resort to.” Interestingly, I cannot feel her presence anymore. Can she power down, then? “It’s more practical to give that food to a superior officer that may not have eaten over letting it sit out to rot.”

Her suggestion to power down prompted a quizzical look from the lieutenant. While there is a point in her suggestion, any security that might patrol the bank would find it odd that two unaffiliated persons are eating on the rooftop after hours. Yes, it would prevent discovery by the enemy, but… I did not dress to power down outside. She commands it, though; in the future, I should dress for this possibility.

The guise of Umber gave way to a loose-fitting tee that edged toward his shoulders, in a simple cream color with barely noticeable ribbing. More tattoos sprawled up his arms without the half-jacket to cover their appearance. The rest remained, prominent as ever, and even the few on his legs knew visibility as Shale never bothered to wear pants in the comfort of his own home. The chilly air nipped at exposed thighs, but with the table in the way, he figured that Cinnabar would be none the wiser.

“It is a possibility. Another officer’s behavior is not a direct result of my own - if someone acts cold, it pertains to their needs. And for the amount of officers I’ve met, that coldness seems a common factor. You do not find this suspect?”If fifty people of one establishment all behave poorly, and with that establishment as their only common factor, does it not imply that something may be amiss with that establishment? Maybe such a suggestion is blasphemy against the Negaverse. Still, I cannot help but suspect…

So what I am seeing, and what I wasn’t feeling, was an illusion - a temporary one. That is interesting to know. Shale’s eyes settled on her steady eating, and he leaned toward one side while he propped his elbow on the table to use his hand for a chin rest. “So it’s a transaction - paying out energy to receive power. And some of that ‘tender’ can be used for our own gains.” That brings to mind the saying I keep hearing of ‘money is the root of all evil’. I can see how energy might fill that part. “I remember reading about Metallia in the training manual - that she is an important figure that I may never see in the duration of my career here.

“To change into a youma from taking in too much energy… And you said this happens when someone is overfilled with chaos energy. If that is the case, then does it not imply that the energy we take is chaos energy? Does it live in all things?”

So what Marinus said of youma is true. They are - or were - humans. I should feel something for this, but the information is still too abstract. What chased us in the woods… They were people.

“Everything depends on energy.” The assertion of growing dependent on energy seemed both familiar and unnecessary. “Are you saying they can’t take energy through normal consumption of food anymore? Or that they lose energy faster than they can reclaim it here? And what - and where - is the Rift?”

His surprise at her transformation was amusing, but it was a fleeting enjoyment, easily pushed aside in favor of the food she was steadily consuming, taking care not to gobble it down like an animal. Even if she was one now…

Her eyes flickered to the lieutenant as he powered down, sliding up the red of his arms as it twisted and wrapped over his tanned skin. Her chewing slowed in consideration and picked up again as she dismissed it. He was handsome and fit, things that appealed to her, but now was not really the time to be thinking with her lower parts. Her stomach was far more demanding, even with nearly half the food gone down her throat. Her hunger was as present as it had been when she had started, but there was some measure of enjoyment in the act itself, and the logic that her body still needed the sustenance.

“I suppose you could call it suspect…” She said as she considered it, food filling her cheek as she spoke. “But the Negaverse is what it is… an army of misfits and children, often forced into roles they’re not comfortable with. There are precious few with actual combat training or field experience. I can’t speak to what other people do, only the knowledge that a Captain’s role is to train the lower ranks and answer to their generals, and a general’s to oversee their lowers. If they’re not doing as they should, then they’ll find themselves punished.”

There was another long shrug as she dropped her gaze to the food, the fork twirled between her fingers. The suggestion someone wasn’t doing their job wasn’t news or real surprising, but the implication there was something wrong with the Negaverse as a whole because of it bothered her. She couldn’t say why, really, but she prefered to shove that under the rug and ignore it.

“Energy…” She said as she gestured, encompassing a whole. “Comes from whomever we’re collecting from, but once its in our possession, it becomes tainted by our chaos. Like… pouring a glass of water into a bowl of mud. Take it back out, it’ll have mud in it. Chaos comes from Metallia. Amusingly, if you force feed it to someone on the other side, it’ll make them sick. I guess Order doesn’t much like the taste of it.”

That brought a rough laugh from her and she fed herself again, a pressure in her middle suggesting fullness even though she still felt hungry. Damn youma… never satisfied.

“A full youma can’t eat human food any more. They live entirely off energy. One of their uses is to drain energy from civilians and bring it back to Metallia, but remaining in this world takes a lot of it. They can only stave off returning to the Rift for so long. The Rift is some... other place. I don’t know for sure… where, exactly, but its reached by a large door and a hallway in the Citadel. It can’t be teleported into or out of. Metallia and Queen Beryl made it a thousand years ago in their war against the Senshi and Knights. I don’t know how, but it was some important Earth city or something. I haven’t spent much time digging into our history.”

And they’re all here to stop this senshi menace. I need to find my own reason to stay. This city, the opposition… They hold no personal value to me. They’ve done nothing to earn my loyalty. I will have to hash this out on my own. Doing as they’re told seems hardly fitting for most here. I wonder what their reasons are. Cinnabar needs the Negaverse to live, making a better and more loyal officer out of her. But for the rest… I wonder if the goal is partial youmafication of all officers. I can’t imagine it - even if they would remain loyal out of necessity for life.

“Why don’t we employ it more often? If tainted energy makes Order sick, then it should be straightforward to drain them and feed that energy back to them. If chaos is such a taint, then they would eventually join our ranks, would they not? Youma or otherwise.” He understood that the ability to feed any energy back to the senshi in question would require a measure of physical restraints or compliance, which entails capture - a very large expense of resources and risk. “If the Negaverse seeks to fill its ranks with its opposition, then it seems a clean enough way to do it.”

I don’t know anything about the history here. It may be worth knowing if it holds an impact on the current state of the war.

And the Rift… “Thank you, Captain. The information is useful.” The captain appeared finished with her meal, which marked a good stopping point for discussion. Already she dealt many details that would take some time to sort out, and more than before he realized the necessity of determining his reason for staying with the Negaverse. Additionally, he had a special want for pants right now that could not be fulfilled without returning home; he crossed his legs to maintain a measure of warmth, but a quick shiver still took him temporarily. “It seems there’s a lot more to learn than I first thought.”

”We’d prefer not to feed the energy to them. The first desire is always to claim energy to feed Metallia. Doing other things with that energy is secondary, when there is no other option. Its a waste of energy to actually feed it to Order… if you want to make them into a youma, just shove your hand into their chest and fill their starseed with Chaos. Its a far quicker job than forcefeeding. Its tiring though… easier just to kill them. Usually the easiest option.” The captain shrugged, leaning back in her chair. She left the fork in the dishes with the remains of the meal, doing her best to resist the urge to keep eating. She could feel the signs of over-full capacity… she knew what would happen if she kept on with it. Throwing up in front of a subordinate was not appealing. “Youma are, for the most part, not really as useful as a human agent. That’s why corruption to an officer is almost always more appealing than turning someone into a youma.”

“You can do as you please, though, for the most part. If the process of feeding appeals to you... “ She shrugged. “As long as you turn in your quota, no one is going to say much about what you do with your time, I should think. The first rank is for learning and energy gathering, mostly. You can worry more about combating the senshi menace when you reach Captain.”

The shiver he gave drew her attention and she lifted a black eyebrow. Cold? She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised, with him in only a t-shirt. Might teach him to dress better before he powered up, from now on. Cracking her knuckles, she rolled her shoulders, stretching in her chair with a lazy motion.

“Do you have any other questions, Lieutenant? I appreciate the food you brought. It was good… and surprisingly thoughtful. I’m not used to that.” Cinnabar said, a half smile stretching her lips.

Nothing of this process ‘appeals’. It is all necessity - both to remain living where I am and to occupy my time, to use my skills as a hunter in an environment not conducive to my ‘vocation’. Efficiency, therefore, matters more to me than entertainment or forcing undue suffering on another creature. It’s maladroit. If I am to continue in the Negaverse, then I will do so as cleanly as possible.

“The training manual suggested similar information - I am to focus on draining, and avoid the opposition more than confront them. It seems lieutenants are more akin to investments than of veritable use to the Negaverse. Energy ferrying being the height of their usefulness.” Her steady eating slowed to a stop, he noted, as her fork landed in one of the glass containers. Most of it sat emptied on the table. It’s surprising that she could eat all that without bursting. Perhaps she doesn’t get fed all that often. It’s a waste to leave her to starve.

Thoughtful. Maybe if you treat thoughtful as a synonym for calculated. He shrugged, shoulders askew from one another. “I like to cook. As for other questions…” He sat up and rolled his shoulders to crack his back. “I think I have more than enough to think on. It will suffice.”

Shale stood afterward and rounded the table to collect the few containers he brought in his venture over. Most were simply capped and returned to the grocery bag, with the fork and knife returning to a plastic baggie before joining the rest. He paid little mind to his attire while doing so - his mind mostly lay on the information newly disseminated to him - but the chill in the air constantly reminded him of the necessity to wear pants. With the bag tied shut, he powered up and offered her another nod for departure. “Thanks again, Captain.”

Afterward he turned toward the plexiglass, studying it for a moment before he leapt over its breadth and down onto the parapets below. fin?