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Prehnite was ready to bite the proverbial bullet - a far simpler thought to have then action to submit himself to, he could do it though.

Etched out an easy text - simple summons that was open ended enough to be answered or denied. He’d get his quota regardless - would pluck bounteous bits of energy on his own if need be.

Would try
on for size first, owed this one an apology.
. For the little trifle at a previous event, for all that he didn’t know her from a hole in the wall - his own quasi-subordinate had made it clear that he was lucky to have walked away with his head still attached…

Not that he cared…….

‘General Sylvite, if you could deign to meet me at these corresponding coordinates. I would be deeply appreciative.’ - a series of numbers inlaid - a pin dot in a map to emphasize his location.

Then it became a wait. Sat along the edge, seven stories up, a brisk breeze of flat wind that ate the air, and rifled his hair. Cool autumn night showing it’s true colors with the chill that bit on the colored edges of a season's change.

Gentle nudge and straightening of the ever fascinating diamond pin, as Prenhite kicked his heels and waited.



Of people who she was expecting to work with on this mission, the clumsy party boy was not on the list.

Sylvite thought about ignoring his request. Like, he was a Captain, one of the few people on this secret mission that she outranked. It wouldn’t get her in trouble if she just ghosted. He’d asked if she would deign to meet him, which either meant that he was groveling or he was sarcastically groveling, and she wasn’t really sure what to think about either option.

On the other hand, the constant draining was getting to be a little bit repetitive. Sylvite did her best to mix it up so that she didn’t get bored. Some days she’d go to the mall, some days she’d go to restaurants, some days she’d stake out alleyways. She was starting to run out of ideas of places to even go, though, so the idea of meeting with someone else to mix things up was pretty tempting.

She considered the text for a full minute, which for Sylvite, was a really long time.

Then, without any warning, she teleported right to those coordinantes. It was a place she knew pretty well. The building was tall enough to get a good view of the surrounding area.

She gave him a little wave.



Tilted back, to appraise her from where he sat, passive curiosity that flit across green gaze. Took a moment to stand and dust him off, pick imaginary lint off lapels and black/licorice mantle tinted with green, and if he didn’t return the wave. He did at least offer a hint of a smile. Thin withered thing that tried and failed to cast a wrinkle - features clearly unused to holding such things.

“General Sylvite, how would you like to try another party?” open ended question, and he was secretly glad that she’d shown, pleased that he could’ve spent his time productively instead of waiting past the hour to get things going.

Took careful steps closer, sizing her up and seemingly finding her far more appropriate than before. Something about his gate and easy stature that radiated ‘
. Or something that resembled as hitting close to the mark of a thing.

“The one thing I've noticed, after all my years in this city, is that around this time? The
….and I’m already colored for
.” poison points of green and purple hues, and maybe like this he could apologize? Could try for a do-over, if only to show her that he could be less of a menace, if not more of a ‘people person’, in polite company. Rough huff of something that could’ve passed for a laugh, or a particularly perturbed breath.

Impossible to tell from him.


Sylvite was kinda the oppisite when it came to facial expressions. She smiled all the time. Right now, though? Right now her eyebrows drew together so much that her whole face wrinkled up, and she stayed like that for a long, drawn out second.

“You’re.” She sqinted even more, trying to make sure she was hearing him right. “You’re inviting me to another party?”

Yeah, no. Now he was talking about Halloween costumes. He was totally inviting her to another party. This was after the last party, where she didn’t think either of them had that great of a time. She’d ended up covered in cupcake mush, and he’d seemed annoyed about the whole thing rather than anything close to apologetic.

She looked down at her own outfit, with the super sparkly underskirt and the puffed sleeves and all the lace. “I mean, I could probably pass as a pretty great princess costume if I put on one of those tiaras,” she said eventually, “But, uh, I have to ask. Is this supposed to be a draining thing?”

He was on the special mission, after all.

“Or are you just gonna get all drunk again?”



“This is twofold - one - the parties are easy places to drain a large quota and leave without notice or hindrance. Two?” Crossed his arms behind his back, laid into pacing ever so briefly, because he owed her some sort of actual true apology — and the words sat stuck like concrete behind a wall of other — better to use his actions maybe?

What good were words after all, when faced with how fickle they were in reality. Paper thin and flimsy, easily forgotten or betrayed.

“Two…my subordinate…who is mayhaps far more intelligent than myself, in some regards…she made a point that you deserved something of an actual apology from me?” Turned and — if he offered his hand to her - olive branch to show the safety of land beyond the rising tide and crashing waves of all that existed within the negaverse.

“I won’t get drunk.” He wasn’t before, or so he hadn’t thought? And when I’m the actual ******** did they buy the ‘good stuff’ in the last decade!? “You would make a better princess than most —- and you deserve an event where you are neither tread upon nor doused?” And the shrug lay in his voice more so than in his body language. Didn’t seem to touch his face, though few rare things ever did.

He could’ve said sorry, if she wanted that, but what even would it have meant? One stranger to another - paltry coworker platitudes laced with lackluster nuance. He would never apologize for the sake of friendship alone. He could however be sorry for something he’d done - once it had been spotlighted to him by another.

“After eleven years at this—-and it’s the first event of memory that was any good..Ah…second mayhaps? You’ll have to forgive that I got carried away. Libations wise..” not an excuse just a statement of fact - of facts - as he let her make her choice, one way or another. She could always say no, he knew she had the spine for it, admired that about her even.

"I - --- Did I not already?" ready as ever to spin on and haul her off into -- and there she was demanding. No, not demanding, asking. Possibly very politely even. Though Prehnite was sure he'd apologized somewhere in there? Were his actions not enough, did he truly need to say the words - like some grade school child being chided into it..

'We are facing an unknown' - he reminded himself, firmly. 'She is a General' nodded and swallowed and 'if she wants an apology..so young' and he wasn't that much older than her, or was he, or was she?!

Glamour's were an impossible thing to peer past. To gauge an age outside of anything other than the barest of context clues and language. He found himself sighing. Felt his smile slip into something a little wider when he caught the look on her face. 'Cheeky thing' -- "Alright - alright...'I'm sorry'..for a number of things. Obviously.." slow blink, gentle curiosity as he wondered what she had in mind. "Ooh, go on then Sylvite. Let's dress to impress, shall we?" and it was far easier if he just took the rod out of his spine and let her run with it.

They had to work together, and even without the Queens orders? They had to work together. For the betterment of all - for the agency - for whatever would come their way when all the pretenses were dropped and the truth of their mission was revealed.

He would be on good terms with her. Let his pride take that fall, so their people wouldn't have to.

For the barest of beats Prehnite wondered if he'd been had.

If she'd simply taken her apology as due spoils and fled with them; to leave him standing roof side - adjacent to the fact that he was a fool. Regret that bled back into something like relief when she appeared again. All of that which was sternly wrestled back into passive curiosity.

He was being silly — she was a General — her gift a clear sign of forgiveness. The tiara shown, plastic glint atop her head, and though a matching crown of ivory vines caked…

Something about the felt hat - velvety darkness that would've gone over well with his motif. Gardner who’d gone to a shop looking for Jack the Ripper rip-off costumes, and ended up with a 17th century piece done up in toxic colors instead.

"Oh, are you a student?" Casual comment for all that he couldn't remember if he'd met someone so vibrantly pink at Romanos - of course she could've been in college, or any myriad of other schools that littered the city.

Wondered if she was herded into the negaverse through the fumble of that, or if she found it naturally.

Deftly took the top-hat in hand, thumbed the firm rim. Made his choice as he sat it atop his head. He could be careful with it. “There—we look like a pair of cheap dates ready to party.” costumes and balls that reminded him of…being a clueless prissy teen who had never outgrown his ego. School dances and prom fires….an actual ballroom that they once held a blitz siege in under his former captain…

“That is to say — you look very much the princess tonight, General.” and he could smile. Even if it was a thing that resembled creaking wood on aged steps, he hadn’t entirely forgotten how.

What an interesting thing, her finishing up at DCU. Reminded him of how he hardly missed his college days even as it explained the easy appearance of costume-ware from out of the blue.

He could see it, too. The General as a student, how fashion could be a passion of hers and how it lent to the whole of her demeanor. Wondered what if -- if they talked basics of life between here and there. If he spoke on being a teacher for those coming up just under her age group, if ---

If they had a good time.

It' been literal years since he'd last asked someone to dance, or attended anything like a Halloween party. An actual age, and he hadn't really even done anything regarding the event itself, had slid away from what he deemed boring then....Time well spent on a balcony - paired up by paper slip to a girl who made Greek attire look drab, but had the most interesting things to talk about. Had a mind, and maybe Sylvite had a mind in her?

For all that she bounced about like a rubber ball made of cotton candy gloss and chiffon layers. She had made it this far on her own despite all of that - was involved in measures of self improvement, clearly.

"Lets go."

Easy thing to take her by the elbow as she stepped close, gentlemanly tip of his hat before he whisked them off. Walked her through subspace like a well practiced stroll - and out into better prospects.