assignment: renounce

Miss Secretary, being the superlative secondary secretary under Eleonora and Nagi who keeps ever so many smallest details about NLA running ever so smooth, has a meticulous mental picture of every BLADE he manages. Though he loves Eleonora, she can sometimes be just the slightest bit overly coy when discussing assignments. Instead, Miss Secretary has made it his own mission to be properly covert as he assesses each operative's mood and next best duty to be handed.

In other words, if a BLADE is having a bad day, Miss Secretary will know, and he won't say anything about it, but he might do something about it.

This is different, though. This is Seren Sirius cursing to themself, and not very softly, as they walk toward Armory Alley from the East Gate.

Seren doesn't curse. Seren doesn't hardly ever walk, either.

Miss Secretary gives an experimental tap of his heels to make sure the stabilizers are on firm, then strides up to match pace with Seren and hum calmly at their side.

It's a little gesture, and yes, it is more than a little bit coy, but it gets the job done; Seren looks up with a weary start.

"Hiii, Spica. Sorry, some people are just..."

"Just universally infuriating," Miss Secretary finishes Seren's sentence, or just the thought. "I think I know who you're talking about."

"It's the racism for me..."

"Yup!" Miss Secretary agrees, pumping his fist and giving Seren a point. "Definitely the racism for me. And the xenophobia."

Ugh. Especially the xenophobia. Please, God, take every noxious thing he ever said with venom about a Miran native, and put it doubled in virality upon his horribly hairless head. Well, and that's not very nice to balding folks like Commander Vandham, but it is what it is.

Seren's down enough about it to have their hands shoved in their shorts pockets, their shoulders huffing up under their suspiciously slouchy hood. "I'd be lying if I said I'd never revived him, or answered his Soul Voice calls, but when I don't I'm not sure if it's because I don't want him to tell me what to do or if I want him to die."

Miss Secretary doesn't so much as blink politely at the blunt, morbid nature of Seren's thought - and now Seren has another quandary: is that because he's already otherwise engaged with the conversation, or because he's already thought about the very same thing, and agrees?

Regardless of what's true there, Miss Secretary continues the trend. "Oh, and I HAAATE when he gives that 'you're getting stronger every day' line, like he has anything to do with it! Uncle would never treat me like that."

Seren has to stifle a smile whenever Spica mentions his beloved "uncle" the Defense Secretary. As a fellow mischief-maker, they love when BLADEs can get away with things - harmless things like that, that is - and let some others around them know about it.

Right now, they're getting away with coworker complaint in the middle of coworker central. "The moment he starts in about a star rising in the east, I am gone. GONE."

It's a perennial debate - rather, topic of discussion, between Spica and Seren. Why is Bozo Bozé the way that he is? Why is he so ignorant, and so irritatingly so? Why is he so self-centered? Why is he so gosh-darn annoying? Why does it matter? Are they the ones in the wrong?

They slip into it so easily too, on so many unscheduled Division-Drive strolls just like this one. They're not going to do anything about it - there isn't anything to do about it, until Bozé walks himself into a bloviation hole he can't ever walk back with any infinite measure of his beloved Earth-Eastern dignity - so they have to resort to sending mental hatemail to help themselves let off steam.

"Anyway. Where to now, Spi?"

Said Spi huffs. "That's Miss Secretary to you. We're on the clock." But there's a twinkle in his eye as he says it. "I was thinking of going to see who's hanging around BLADE Tower. Supposed to be no one in particular, right now, but I know Uncle doesn't always fill out the scheduler to reserve a room, so I bet he's there."

It's not like Seren can think of anything better to do, in their consummate annoyance, and if Spica's suggesting that they tag along, then it must be alright.

Sorry, Miss Secretary. The title's so, so cute, but isn't it a little clunky? Well, no clunkier than Secretary Nagi, then, right? Okay. Uncle Spica.

If Seren actually called him that, mentally, they might be a little more afraid of the official pink Supreme Uniform, or they might alternatively be in too deep, like Irina (that is, the Lieutenant, see), but they'll try their best.

Sure enough, Nagi's there, sternly gazing at a corner of the minifridge as if willing something delectable to appear for his consumption, or else risk his wrath. Seren purses their lips in anticipation, expecting that Miss Secretary might be so bold as to poke him on the shoulder, but he doesn't so much as clear his throat.

Well, okay. So Nagi's a little bit superhuman, and his ears twitch at their arrival. "Ah, Miss Secretary - and the ever-popular Seren, too. What brings you here? I hope it's not the refreshments," he says dourly, nodding at the disappointing state of the refrigerator.

Oh, Seren wants so badly to just take the toxic dialogue choice and unload about that rotten, very-partisan Partisan Eagle they keep out on the ends of roadways just waiting to ambush unsuspecting young BLADEs, no matter the age of their scion star. But they won't, because this is Miss Secretary's visit, and it's got to be how it's got to be.

To the shock of their blue-bolted eyes, that's hardly the most unprofessional thing they're here to do today: Miss Secretary smiles, cheeks rosy, and leans in to Secretary Nagi's shoulder to give him a hug! "Just doing our jobs, Uncle!" he explains brightly. Oh, sure, we're on the clock. Very funny.

But Seren, true to their nature, is smiling as well, and nods a silent affirmation. Just doing our jobs, and we'll keep doing them, because we're good BLADEs, and there are worse things to be had on Mira than unpleasant colleagues who sadly must be deemed associates.

Better things, too - like Secretary Nagi's own warm expression, to be greeted with such affection. He doesn't remove his hands from where they're stationed wrist-in-palm behind his waist, but he leans back toward Miss Secretary, just slightly.

Pfft. Sensei Lowes has never even seen the half of it.