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Between the failure of the previous day and the way she had slept -- not at all save for the exhausted coma of being drained -- Gisela was... less than her best to say the least. It was another day that she was glad that her skull was cleanly shaven. It would have been a hopeless nest of knots that she would have been too tired to untangle had it not been. Her mannerisms, however, spoke of the deep discontent settling in her bones. She was by no means a fast woman, but her motions were delayed now, her reflexes a moment off. She would sidestep a moment after someone collided with her. Hold up her hands after someone narrowly avoided her. It was like moving through mud.

And Gisela hated it.

The coffee at the hotel was trash. It had been in the carafes for too long and tasted burnt and bitter. No amount of cream or sugar could fix it, so Gisela set out on a hunt of her own. March was prickly against her too sensitive skin and the wind sounded too intelligent to be just the wind. But she slid forward, working harder than she ought to reach the cafe she wanted.

"Americano please," she said curtly, stifling a yawn, "no sugar, black. And a walnut scone, please." At least in the crowd, the wind stopped talking to her.

For a moment, Gisela accepted the voice next to her as nothing more than another audio hallucination at worst, and a passerby speaking about a partner at best. Because of this, she didn't move at first, opting instead to lock her gaze onto the reflective surface on the napkin dispenser before her. It wasn't until several moments later, when she heard the name of the General in charge of all of them that she looked up, pale blue eyes betraying none of the surprise that she felt.

Another colleague, Gisela realized too slowly, as the woman before her had finished her question several moments ago and was now waiting in what would have been awkward silence had Gisela's mind not been as foggy as it was.

"He does expect a lot," Gisela agreed slowly, her voice whisper thin either from fatigue or weakness. "But if you've read his background, he's a man who is used to getting exactly what he expects." The rift, Gisela had read about, had been a harrowing journey, one that she envied, and once again she cursed her starborn lineage. Her connections to the inky blackness of space would forever damn her to a status lower than she longed for. "And I tend to agree with our parent company. He deserves what he expects."

I'd loathe for anyone to turn up empty-handed.

Nothing showed on Gisela's face as she curled her skeletal fingers around the cup of coffee as it was delivered to her, though irritation and reproach rose in her throat like bile. The other girl looked friendly enough, but Gisela would be remiss if she blindly trusted just anyone in the negaverse, especially one who seemed to be prying for wekaness. So many agendas. So many cloaked daggers. That coupled with the miasma of her meeting with Chase earlier that morning and the throb of his veiled threats like a new burn in her memory sealed her lips.

"I agree, however, that failing to meet those expectations would be... undesirable." Other than that, however, she gave nothing.

"Shall we sit?" Gisela nodded towards an empty table near the window, and her legs were beginning to shake with the effort of keeping her upright while running on so little. She was also keenly aware of the press of people around her trying to get their coffee and she was ready to be away from them.

"Gisela," was her only clipped response as she took the slender and meticulously maintained hand in her own with a strength that belied her visage. She knew, at the very least, how to use her bones to her own advantage, and pressed the tender flesh in between knobby joints.

"Fictions," Gisela murmured softly around the rim of her coffee. In truth, Illiel was correct. Everyone around them was like an echo of someone else. All too aware of the negaverse's presence. She recalled yesterday when a simple collision garnered her undue attention... or had it been her anxiety addled brain conjuring eyes which were not there.

No.

She knew the feeling of shadowy eyes on her. Just as she knew them now, not quite a physical pressure on her skin but rather the sensation of anticipation of freezing wind. A spiritual bracing for the unknown. A deep, soul-rending recoil that Gisela had to fight to keep from physically showing. And she knew the sensation of real eyes on her as much as she knew the feeling of her nightmares watching her. Enough passers-by had cast her sidelong glances and outright stares in both concern and morbid curiosity. The eyes from yesterday had been a much more corporeal sensation, like a hair suit scraping along her nerves.

They had been real.

"That is, I admit, an apt description," she finally sighed after a deep swallow of hot and acrid coffee. "They do seem a bit... installed. And I'm relieved that it's not just my own ficitonalization. I feel slightly less insane."

Slightly.

If only the mission was the only thing costing Gisela her sleep. What she wouldn't give for it to be so simple. And if Illiel had voiced concern over Gisela's sleep she would have said as much. As it was, however, the other woman kept her concern to herself and Gisela was left only to consider the critical gaze of her new partner. Not that it was anything new to her, to be examined. How many doctors had wanted to do studies on her particular brand of sleeplessness? And how many bellowing screaming matches had her father gotten into over it.

She's just a girl! She's my girl! Not a rat for you to send through a maze!

She missed the great, round man with a sudden intensity that caused her to pause and wonder if she had made the right choice by coming here. She had risked so much and had only reprimands to show for it.

"You're correct again, Illiel," Gisela muttered, breaking the corner from her scone. "But I'll leave it to you to tell the General where he went awry." For she would certainly not be the one to criticize him. Not after last night. "However, I don't suppose it's too late to learn how to work in a team, is it? Not to try at this point would be foolish, and our positions are nothing if not trial by fire. I like to think that's what sets us apart from them."

As for how to flush them out...

"There must be a bastion. A nesting ground... they gather there, more likely than not. If we can follow one home, we can smoke out the rest and crush them within a single night."

The problem was everyone seemed either too focused on fighting or found themselves outsmarkted by the citizens of the city.

"My guess is there are more than the current estimates have led us to believe. Now whether that was purposeful deceit by our fearless leader or simple underestimation is anyone's guess... mine is that it was a calculated decision to lowball the count. Why else do you think there are so many of us here?"

There was passion in her voice that didn't belong to the baby-bird neck that originated the sound. A strength that might not have even been her own. Perhaps Faustite's or Xenotime's. Benitoite's or Actinolite's. She had built her foundations on so much borrowed bedrock that it was hard to glean what was hers from what was stolen at times.

A wonderful opportunity to work in the field. Chances to prove ourselves useful. Clearly Illiel had a deep misunderstanding of what was happening and why they were all there. It made Gisela even more tired than she already was, listening to such a tragic lack of awareness.

"Chase is using us," she said simply, griding a corner of the scone down to powder with the pad of her fingers. "This operation is too big for one person, and he needs more bodies to throw at it. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad I'm here. but while I am I am a tool for his glory and our Queen's. The only one getting any recognition for their work here will be General Labyrynthite and maybe a few chosen acolytes. you and I, though our nails be dirty and our hands be bloody, will get nothing but a mention in our file."

Her words sounded bitter, but her voice was nothing but factual. After all, as a corrupted senshi, she knew what her place was.

"Of course if it fails we will get the blowback."

And then Illiel began mapping out a plan, as though they were plotting something together. Gisela narrowed her eyes at the other girl, her lips thinning into a tight line in her suspicion.

"I think before anyone moves outside of Mr. Black's ambitions and expectations, they should speak with him." Though after her last interaction with him, it wouldn't be a bad idea to present something like this to him.

"Though I suppose asking to organize and map out files wouldn't be a bad idea..."