Welcome to Gaia! ::

Sometimes? It was best to be blunt and quick to the point when sourcing information. The rumor mill was alight as the sky had been one less-than-suspicious evening a few nights ago. Truthfully? He’d thought nothing of it, the kind of storm that would rock the city and dissipate into the eaves like a fart in a hurricane. Here and gone and nothing worth truly looking into.

They’d had any number of storms before, just as violent, bright, lightning strewn and wicked. Holes leading to oblivion, monsters of the week that were anything *but* the kind of monsters Reed traditionally liked.

Except rarely on the heels of such things did orders come with such contradicting instructions…

‘Ah, so it was a ‘serious’ storm. We’ll then…’

And of course in the very center of it were exactly the people he expected to be, if the singular trickle-down of a reliable report were anything to go off of. He knew which office he was going to, first, second, third —- what sort of piecemeal parcel he was bringing.

Because though he’d always felt his own actions spoke most loudly, he was also aware of his own nature, that words from his light could be taken sourly — and so —

A gift tucked in subspace, his knocking brisk, but light. Even if he could feel the swirl of oppressive, heat-warped aura behind the impressive hunk of grand-office door, he wasn’t so keen to barge straight in. Not like he’d asked to be here, or for the other man’s time of day, with any luck? He could be in and out in a jiff.

“You’re looking well.” Getting the airy, aimless pleasantries out of the way early. Prehnite took a seat opposite Faustite as he was bidden, producing a singular black, glass, gold-bead seeded fruit from sub-space once he was settled. Proudly setting it atop the Greater Generals desk with zero explanation and even less fanfare.

He was sure that it must have seemed a bit like giving the worst sort of white elephant gift; as the item in and of itself was little more than a fancy paperweight. No matter how it gleamed, it was ultimately inedible. Just another sparkly trinket slated for a future junk drawer. But he was always so very proud of what Iolanthe’s garden produced, and eager to share the rare blooming abundance, especially when there was a little extra.

“Less on the edge of death's parapet than usual...” The hint of a smile, barest edges of curl at the corners of his eyes and mouth being the only proof that he meant that as a compliment. He would never lament the other man whatever health he’d earned. In fact, he often imagined Faustite would somehow outlive them all; ever ablaze, beloved weapon, father, husband, and king. Wearing all the hats. Certainly more than he himself would ever care to lust after…

No, Prehnite was happy with his small, quiet, lot in life.

“Though who’s to say how long that will stand for any of us with these recent developments…” A willowy shrug, fingers steepling neatly in his lap. He hoped (while quietly clocking the banked heat of the room and Faustites shrouded cage of a middle, the man’s buzzing youma-pauldrons) that he wasn’t talking maybe too much. He could, how did the kids say it? ‘Yap’ sometimes. (He’d had to research that one, mostly because confusing it with ‘Cap’ had caused him no end of issue when wrangling a class.)

Poor habits from frequent lecturing—

He’d told himself he would get to the point quickly, rather than walk trenches around it.

And he would—-

“Which brings me here…to offer help beyond the order…” How often had he volunteered in the past for what, by the end of it, felt like death spirals thinly veiled as missions. He didn’t believe himself suicidal, his curiosity simply outweighed his assessment of such risks. Time and again, especially now…

“At least where I can? I’m not much for gathering intelligence from the enemy….I don’t have the face for it…” Nor the temperament, but he wondered if that need be said. “But if you need anything else?”

*‘Please, not from the ‘Aliens’, anything but that—‘* A quiet thought that lay in the knit of his brow, one he held his tongue on. It wouldn’t help to say it, no more than it helped to think it, how useless he thought the idea of inviting an invasive burden onto their own planet was. No matter how technologically advanced the pastel parasites were? No matter how freely space faring? He couldn’t help but see them only the one way; one more allen wrench in an overloaded drawer that held twenty other similar tools already.

But he wasn’t paid to judge…

Needn’t be when he could do it for free, at a cost to himself, the same as all his other precious hobbies.

“Especially concerning the absolutely fascinating pictures you received?” His focus on the draft of images, the eye, the spike. Rather than the contradictory orders and the faint sense of unease he felt while reading and re-reading them; how something about the jedi-esq lulling phrasing made him feel distinctly out of the loop.

Though maybe it was best that way— in case the loop was a cinching noose instead.