machine gunners' rising renewal

"I really like how someone using a gatling gun is just a super-effective semaphore for them being batshit insane. You know?"

Profanity isn't usually Seren's style, but a little bit of judicious mirroring around Frye will do that to them. Vivanne doesn't curse either, except for in the finest little snips that would be so expertly effective if only she really meant them.

But since she doesn't use a gatling gun, she is of course not batshit insane. In fact, she's much the opposite - a Prospector who wields a shield and a sniper rifle, one of Commander Vandham's favored eggheads (and, subsequently, a friend to Phog in a way that only she knows). Her sole crack of whimsy, if you could even call it that, is her baby pink mix of knots, braids, coils, and frizz. So she and Seren get along great.

...in Seren's mind. And Mx. Sirius really, really tries.

They figure, judging by how much patience Viv ever seems to have, at either the minimum or the maximum, she must view Frye as at least a little bit crazy, right? Because everyone knows that Frye is a lot crazy. A lot level-headed, too, but that's not for everyone to see.

Now, Vivanne may be a fair bit closer paved to the rules than Seren, but there's no way she thinks "batshit insane" is a value judgement against Secretary Nagi and Engineer Koo, right? There's no way Frye's wifey (yes, that's genuinely what he calls her) is a rule follower like that.

It would explain why she's difficult and inaccessible for a rule-flicker like Seren, though. Seren is explosive at all times, except when tasked with actual serious work. Vivanne is serious at all times, except when frustrated enough about something highly specific that she just has to explode.

She's a lot like Elma, that way. She doesn't seem to look up to Elma, though, just across (actually, a little bit down, considering her considerable height). Seren likes that in a woman, or a man, or a whatever.

But apparently Seren is just toooo much shorter than Vivanne to cut it. They hate to whinge, so if that's how it's to be, that's how it'll be.

Vivanne gives a slow nod at their stereotypical pronouncement, anyway, and continues methodically clearing the few remaining notifications on her comm device. It's not that she's not paying attention; rather, this is all the attention, all the divided share of her concentration, that Seren's silliness needs, requires, desires.

Egghead, indeed.

Administrative work really isn't Seren's thing - they sort of enjoy watching others do it? But only sort of. Watching L's shop isn't boring like this, is it? Their philosophy with FrontierNav has been to chuck in a handful of probes that roughly relate to each other and go. It had been a long, long time coming for them to realize (remember? realize) that not all of the probe sites actually had mineable resources.

But that's why they pay Vivanne the big bucks, to clean up Seren's messes. Right? Interceptors shouldn't be doing that fancy stuff!

"Indigen clustering at Site 408," Vivanne murmurs, tapping Seren on the shoulder. Which makes sense, because Sacrifoles will do that, even more readily than Mortifoles.

The trouble is, Seren's still not sure if that's the insistent tap of "go now" or the gentle touch of "thinking of you" - which, you know, why would it be? Vivanne's actual gentleness is reserved for Frye.

It's really, really sweet, of course - not that Frye's been forever changed in love or anything like that, but there's a hopeful crooked lilt to his grins, now. No more going to bed alone when the long night has turned into a short morning. Even with his consistently pallid complexion, a happy warmth. A little more care taken, and absolutely a little more appreciation for the work of the 'spectors alongside the 'ceptors.

"Should I go now?" Seren says at last. As they wait for a reply, they pull up their Diamond Iyst and begin spinning it by the guard atop their index finger (this nearly ends in disaster for their pinky finger nearby acting as unwilling and unable stabilizer).

Vivanne blinks, yet somehow also doesn't, ever avoiding expressions of bafflement. "Is there a better time for you? More convenient?"

Even if the sentiment is purely literal, a genuine question, Seren pales, flinches, just a bit. But then they puff out their chest, Saltat-proud, and spring to their feet. "Going! Never better!"

Send a quick message to Frye to let him know that they're going to grab him on the way, check. Ask him to get them a snack on his way out of the diner...? No check. Save the victory feast for the spoils. The Killer Ostrich has been known to munch on Tersqual Eel Kebabs, you know!

What they don't tell Frye is who sent them on this little impromptu mission of mercy. No, Seren wants to see his face when they drop that hint.

Sirius may not ever be combat-ready, but it's great for the literal hop-skip-jump to the Repenta, at which time Seren parks it down in vehicle mode and swings up onto the back of Ozzy, between hexad particans (when these dropped, Seren had been so enamored with the sound of the syllables that they took a little while to figure out what "partican" was actually short for).

When Frye strolls out the fluorescent-in-daytime double doors, he takes a sweeping view from left to right, peering around his damaged eye, and Seren has to roll their own, because come on, he knows where they'll be!

It's all a show, of course. Following the surveillance is a saunter, nice and slow, to the cockpit, and Frye's got it down so cool that Seren almost really does think he's oblivious, until he flicks the ignition and at the same time calls up, "You all buckled in there, my man?"

Yeah, it's gonna be good hunting, today.

Even for all Seren's fearful stipulation that they Can and Will get dizzy if asked to jump into any other combat class but the fairly stationary Mastermind, they've found that Frye is a stable enough pilot (when requested, and during daylight hours) that they can just cruise in style, nestled between blocky armaments of the Inferno. Should they be wasting fuel flying directly from the diner to the work site? Nah, probably not, but Frye counts on energy mist for at least one chunk of their time spent in Sylvalum, so it'll all come out square.

He hums a medium volume along with the custom radio unit's tinny blare of twentieth-century rock - it probably helps him concentrate.

Seren listens, nods, learns. They wonder if, or rather how many times, Frye's taken Vivanne out for a spin like this. Maybe something faster or slower. Maybe something dramatic, virtual loop-de-loops up on Talon Rock.

They can't remember how good of a pilot she is, herself, so maybe it's the scenic tour of Noctilum. Wonderful stuff.

"You sure accepted my backup request fast." Like they needed it for a couple of gators and a carnivorous plant.

"Heh. Why not? If the mission's good, I'm on it. Not like I expect anyone else to come along and give me something more exciting than you would."

Fair point. Sound logic. One might even say...level-headed.

"Yeah," Seren agrees, "nothing all that great dripping off the mission board. It's not where I got this, obviously."

Frye nods, or so they assume, since they can't see it. "No dice. Probe protection's an ad-hoc gig. And if they can't find Pathfinders to do it, or they don't wanna..."

Sure, one could say that Vivanne don't wanna hire anyone else. She's probably not concerned with the literal process of delivering a reward, but she doesn't want to have to think twice about it, and even she knows that Seren's a good bet.

Seren hadn't told Viv who they were taking. Viv hadn't asked.

"I got this from a Prospector, personally," they allow, with a knowing nod that taps the halo against the gatling.

The Skell doesn't stop, nor does it flip, but Seren can sense Frye's grip tightening on the handlebars. Just like a motorcycle, hugging a curve. Bet Frye wishes he were hugging a curve, right about now.

"Your favorite," Seren finishes, pretending to drag their fingers down against the spires of Sylvalum as they broach the great seabird. Oh, beautiful country, beautiful world, beautiful Liceors in the approach. Beautiful day to be alive and flying, and not having to fly their own Skell.

"You tryin' to make me nervous, friend?" Frye yells against the wind of descent, because obviously he wouldn't say it so seriously, all quiet on the ground or in the dip of the lake.

Never, Frye, thinks Seren, as they smile back at the rhetorical; I'd never want to take cruel advantage of you. But it is sweet, all the same, seeing you even get nervous. You may not be the man of steel, like Doug, but you're a force to be reckoned with, and this dog knows that so is she.

Without even having to ask for Seren's concurrence, Frye marches right into the middle of the Sacrifole bed and slings a Bullet Twister for the ages. Yeah, he's fired up about this one. He wants a clean report, no johns, all aces. Seren even throws in an Ether Blast as soon as they get up the TP for it, to make it count.

Easy probe cleanup. They make a point to straighten out the site and toss down some flares to keep any further indigen interference out. It'd do any BLADE of any division proud. But now comes the crucial question:

"Are you gonna, by any chance, fly recklessly on the way back?" Sort of...smittenly, brashly, devil-may-care?

Frye puffs out an obnoxiously overcompensating breath. "Say whaaa? Pssh, no. Wouldn't dream of it!"

"...you're gonna. No, thanks, I'll walk." And miss the tearful reunion! But, there's sure to be others, and Seren's sure Phog, if he sees fit, will be happy to tell them all about it.

to clarify for myself so that i didn't just choose an indiscriminate fruit salad of black hair styles and elements: vivanne has bantu knots on one side flipped over the top, braids on the other flowing down from the side part line, and a mixture of coils and frizz around her forehead (these have more obvious root regrowth without the extensions) that she sometimes lays into edges. i specifically wanted her to be distinct from yolanda, because i was toying with this fryewife concept (the easiest way to start a new cross i fear) and then immediately met yolanda and well what was even the point of all that. so now vivanne will have a murderina-style thing with her...to be continued