moon my long-lost friend

"Have you been out at the ramparts again?"

Though Radzam is a mellow fellow, his tone shifts sharp. Minoth's silent response is to roll his eyes and remove his headpiece.

Only once they've both settled at the table with texts and tomes does Minoth speak.

"Haven't you got better things to be worrying about than whether or not I got my hind end smacked by a befogged Ardun?"

"Putting aside the potential innuendo in that statement, yes, I do. However, the modern Machina can do two things at once."

"And I'm not modern. Right." Minoth rolls his eyes again. "Says the researcher."

"Of ether effects, not history." Turning the page, Radzam begins tracing the outline of an old apocrypha generator concept with one nail. "Forgive me my sardonic nature among present company."

"You're forgiven," says the creaking mouth. The creaking brow plates tell a different story.

"And forgive me my concern over a Machina whose makeup is unlike that of any other Machina. Whose ether flow mechanisms are more readily likened to those of human Face Pilots than to their original states."

"Really?" Minoth props chin on fists, leaning into Radzam's space and overshadowing the diagram. "Why don't you study me, instead?"

The book closes. "I already have," comes the graceful decline. "And I continue to do so every time you trifle with your life."