tampered | Log; Ongoing

Log; Ongoing

When; Friday, February 15 (early evening)
Rating; PG-13?
Characters; Riza Hawkeye [

guardianed] & Heinkel Wolfe [

priestlynun]
Summary; Heinkel invites Riza out for a drink.
Log;

Heinkel Wolfe loitered outside of Seventh Heaven, eyes taking the measure of passersby, and definitely not liking what they were seeing.

Deep down, she realized the prudence of accepting a waitressing job at said bar before visiting it for the first time. Knowing the Church here couldn't support its clergy financially was enough of a bitter pill to swallow. But being smacked with the inevitable confirmation that yes, she would be working and serving the vile residents of this hellish purgatory masquerading as a metropolis – that bridge was best crossed after the ~~silver~~ die had been cast, not before. However, getting the painful introduction over while she could still pass as a paying customer also struck her as a wise move. Heinkel was an unapologetic fanatic, but – contrary to what many chose to see or believe – not a stupid one. Hitting up that loony angel for housing during a time of magnanimity had blessed her and Yumie with some financial flexibility. Yet you can't expect God to constantly give you handouts. The Almighty helps those who help themselves.

Speaking of help ...

The Iscariot slipped tinted glasses down the bridge of her nose, a naked gaze cutting into the first signs of dusk. There were a number of reasons why Heinkel invited Riza Hawkeye out for a drink, but she didn't really focus on any one of them in particular. Her gut said it was a sound idea, and that's all that mattered. The Holy Spirit spoke with wordless purity. Excessive thought only led to devilish temptation disguising itself as sound logic. Yet the longer she waited, the more her mind wandered, and especially towards the monstrous den of heathens she was about to enter. Agitation rising, cigarette dwindling, Heinkel hoped her companion for the evening would show up soon. She really needed a beer.

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Heinkel slid into the booth with far less grace. Legs wide, one even propped up, foot on the bench, her stance was unladylike at best. Onlookers were blessed she dressed as a priest, and not a nun. Her first act upon sitting was to light up a cigarette, followed shortly after by a curt wave to flag down a waitress.

As the server approached, Heinkel turned to Hawkeye, the fresh butt hanging perilously from the corner of her mouth.

"Got a preference, or do ya want me to order for two?"

Hawkeye had long since learned not to bat an eye at the eccentricities of others, and while the leg on the bench was once again unexpected, it was nothing to cause concern, and she dismissed it along with the critical glance she'd gotten earlier with a mental shrug.

"I've no particular preference."

"A pitcher of Hefeweizen, and two steins ..." Heinkel said to the waitress, cigarette bobbing.

After that she settled back, looking at Hawkeye, smoke curling out of the opposite side of her mouth. Her guns flashed again. But like before, no malice or threat was intended. They were part of the uniform. Her instruments of divine justice, as much as she was God's. Heinkel merely didn't see the problem, or the point of hiding them. However, she knew that issue had to be tackled soon, and it was as good a conversation starter as any.

"So," she said, "one gunwoman to another, what's your preferred method of concealment? I start work here on Monday, and ..." Heinkel gestured to her sides. "... I doubt Samson and Delilah will be welcome."

Hawkeye had settled back into the seat of the booth, watching the waitress depart, unconsciously noting the flow of people within Seventh Heaven, before she became aware of Heinkel's watchful eye, and turned back to the woman, meeting her gaze evenly until she spoke.

The question took her slightly aback, and her face showed it, one eyebrow raising itself on it's own. Both the abrupt nature of it, and the content of the question itself. Although, if she thought about it, she supposed it was fairly well known that she was a gun-user, and fairly circumspect. So perhaps not so odd.

But still...

Hawkeye paused for a long moment, attempting to figure out the best response, before shrugging. "It all depends on the situation. My job has never required me to be unarmed." And by inference, never required to seem unarmed. Nor would she choose a job that dictated her to be so, not with so many foes around.

...Heinkel had named her guns. The thought hit her after she spoke, and her gaze shifted to the gleam of metal, turning slightly curious for a brief moment before being blotted from her face and raising her gaze again to the woman across the table, face neutral once more.

The Iscariot saw Hawkeye's surprise, and sneered a little. She wasn't stupid. At the very least, any wielder of firearms worth the weight of their guns in bullets could pick out another ... it was all in the eyes.

"I didn't say unarmed." The sneer deepened, and she leaned in. "I know you got one, if not two, on you right now. I could guess where ..." Heinkel leaned back again, exhaling smoke languidly. " ... but since we only just met and all, that would be rude, ja?"

Edited 2008-02-28 05:08 (UTC)

Well. Once in the subject, Hawkeye was much better at controlling her face. It was neutral to the point of stony, impassive to the point of blank. But her gaze was no less keen as she met the other woman's gaze.

"Nor did I imply I was." Which was entirely true. "I merely adjust according to the situation." Also entirely true. A flicker of something - akin to distaste perhaps - died halfway through manifestation in her eyes, and Hawkeye closed her eyes briefly, before speaking lowly but clearly. "If you want to know how I am armed at the moment, I do have two pistols on my person. I keep them concealed for a reason."

"Heh," the Iscariot huffed. "I thought so."

The waitress arrived, and Heinkel busied herself with the beer. She tipped the steins during filling, pouring slowly, taming the headiness as much as possible. Once that was accomplished, she slid one glass over the table's surface in Hawkeye's direction, while simultaneously chugging half of her own.

Heinkel leaned back with a contented sigh, eyes closed while she took a slow drag from her dwindling cigarette. "Not bad, not bad at all. I've had better, but also a lot worse." She flashes Hawkeye a glittering gaze. "I could get used to it."

Hawkeye quelled a surge of irritation. Really, if all the she had wanted to know was whether she was armed or not, she could have just asked that, instead of the other question. And the blonde had no inclination to tell her how she carried her guns. That was part of the reason they were concealed.

Fortunately for her, the arrival of the beer seemed to have distracted her, at least momentarily, and Riza caught the glass slid her direction automatically, hiding her surprise at the alacrity with which Heinkel had downed her drink behind the lip of her own, taking a sip only before setting it down, vague smile reappearing on her lips at the other's remarks.

"I've certainly had worse myself."

Heinkel's grin deepened, and she quickly downed what remained of her drink. The Iscariot twisted her finished cigarette in a coaster-turned-ashtray, then reached out to refill the glass.

"So," Heinkel said, clinking her stein on the table, as well as rummaging for smokes. "You gonna answer the question?"

She knew how to conceal a weapon, but new tricks were always worth learning. However, It was fine with her if Hawkeye wanted to skip the friendly banter. There were a lot more interesting things they could be discussing.

That was a quick drink.

Hawkeye sighed inwardly- she should have known better than to think the arrival of the drinks would do more than momentarily distract the other woman. The Lieutenant knew how bullish Heinkel could be. She'd find out eventually; and it wasn't like this was terribly classified information, and Riza inclined her head.

"Purse and thigh holster, as it's locations you seem to want." The combination had served her well in the past. It wasn't just from a desire to get out of the habitual uniform pants when she could that she wore skirts; the practicality of being able to conceal a second weapon on her person outweighed all other options.

This wasn't precisely an innocuous discussion over drinks; nor was it the discussion anticipated considering the conversation that had led to the invitation in the first place. Hawkeye glanced out towards the mill of people again, merely a watchful eye for changes.

Heinkel lit a new cigarette, then rested the elbow of her smoking arm solidly on the table's surface, leaving the smoldering butt pointing skyward.

"I've done the thigh thing," she said, "but that wouldn't really suite either of my friends here if I'm trying to be stealthy about it. Dee can fit nicely in a back holster, though ... "

The Iscariot rarely ran into anyone she was left in any position to talk guns with, and especially not woman to woman. It was engaging, but easily lead to more well-traveled trains of thought.

"I like you, Lieutenant, and wouldn't mind having you at my back in a brawl." Heinkel took a gulp of beer. "Which begs the question of why a fine upstanding woman, like yourself, is consorting with witches."

Hawkeye inclined her head at the compliment, but the question posed after it drained whatever flippancy might still have been lingering in her face, eyes focused on something intangible. Not distant, anything but distant; her eyes were hard to the point of emulating the steel she carried with her.

I follow the Colonel. And to her that was all the explanation she needed; it was the only reason. But Hawkeye knew that it was not so simple for others to see.

"I have a promise to keep." That was the simple answer, the thread that tied the blonde's long string of choices and actions together. How to explain the importance of that promise? It would be impossible. "I chose to go into the military on my own, and it is my choice to follow that path daily." A pause, and Hawkeye's gaze re-entered standard levels of intensity, and the hand that had automatically semi-curled into the grip of holding a pistol curled completely into a loose fist, before being relaxed.

Alchemists work for the good of the people. Unless they're military. She knew it as she knew it was her father's opinion. And she had chosen to follow a dog of the military anyways. But it had been her choice to do so. Riza Hawkeye, the individual, had chosen that path.

"They have goals I wish to see accomplished."

Heinkel snorted, sending smoke sputtering out her nose.

God, she hated people who weighed their words, picked them so carefully, and the Iscariot knew she was staring right at one. No matter what, for good or bad, it meant they were hiding something.

"You'll have to do better than that," she said. "I'm not your Colonel, or Alphonse. I don't want to be given lip service, or fed a pretty line. I want the dirty, unpolished truth."

Heinkel took another swig of beer, and leaned back, elbow still on the table, cigarette now conveniently at the right level to meet her lips. "I may not be an ordained priest, but I'm still clergy. I'll gladly hear your confession. At the very least, as an ally, you ow me an explanation I will accept ..."

Hawkeye shot a glare over the table; well chosen her words may have been, but lies they were not.

"Do you think that is all that is? Just pretty words with no meaning?" Nothing could have been further from the truth. "What I told you is the truth. It merely sounds polished from the surface."

Hawkeye dropped her fist to her lap so that she could clench it tight, palm protesting as her fingernails dug into her skin, eyes still holding the other woman's in a gaze almost disconcertingly intense. "My promise is to protect. I entered the military to keep that promise, knowing what else it meant." It meant the guilt of Ishbal on her shoulders, even before she was fully trained. It meant watching the alchemy she'd given be used for purposes neither of them had wanted. It meant, and it meant, and it meant.

She had had this conversation before, with Winry, when Winry had still been a young girl. "It is not an unsullied thing; I will have to walk through a river of mud to keep it."

Her confession? No one would hear her confession- it was barely hers to give. An explanation she could attempt to provide.

"If you're in the military, I guess that means you're willing to die for this promise of yours ..."

Heinkel held the woman's gaze. It would have been an insult not to. To give your life for something, to sully yourself so others didn't have to, those were sentiments an Iscariot could easily understand. It was just too bad that Hawkeye had pledged herself to some witchy golden calf. The devil really possessed no shame, preying on worlds where the Lord's Church seemed oddly absent. None of that changed this woman's fate, but ....

"... are you willing to kill yourself for it too?" Heinkel took a deep drag, and let the smoke curl out of her mouth as she spoke. "To watch those you do everything for ostracize you," her eyes hardened, "look down on you in disgust?"

"It means I understand the risks."

She would die for it if necessary, but she knew that she was more useful alive. So did the homunculi. She was far, far more useful to them alive. If they had wanted to kill her, they'd had more than the perfect opportunity. Pride had had her completely at his mercy, with those small dark hands wrapped around her legs, arms, neck, squeezing and damaging until she had called his game. She was a hostage. And those were only useful alive.

"If you're talking about the people? I'm well aware that only my uniform protects me against the acts I've committed as a member of the military. Wartime heros have no place in a peaceful world." Her gaze had never wavered. Some part of Hawkeye's brain registered that the other woman's gaze had not either, noted it down, but her own glare had softened none.

"And if you're talking about the one I chose to follow, I chose to follow him because he is not that sort of man."

"I was talking about the people," Heinkel responded. "And you're right, he isn't that sort of man. He can't possible be, because he isn't a man at all ... he's a witch."

She broke away from their locked gazes. The Iscariot knew, just by looking in Hawkeye's eyes, that expounding further was pointless. The Colonel definitely seemed about as honorable as the leader of Hellsing. But just as that wench was still a heathen, Mustang would always be a witch. If anything, the spell he had over Hawkeye was evidence enough of a nefarious deal with the Prince of Darkness. Even the Antichrist was supposed to have charisma.

Heinkel gulped down some more beer. "Why don't you explain this alchemy to me, then." If the women consorted with witches, who better to ask.

Edited 2008-03-03 05:21 (UTC)

Hawkeye had to keep herself from sighing- really, there was only so much you could say before you ran back into the brick wall of witchcraft again. But it wasn't worth the time to debate that. Heinkel could say the Colonel was a witch all she wanted. It wasn't going to change a thing.

Hawkeye took another sip of her beer, setting it down with a shrug. "I know very little of alchemy. I know generics of how it works, but that's about it."

"Did I say you were an expert?" Heinkel blurted out. "If you were, you would be a witch, and not one of their human familiars."

She really did hate interrogating familiars, more so than the devil-worshipers themselves. The latter were loud and pompous, but break a few bones, and they usually melted. Familiars, on the other hand ... be them loyal to a vampire, witch, or false prophet ... Heinkel had seen many a misguided soul die excruciating deaths with a smile on their faces. She'd even wanted to end a few inquisitions prematurely via a merciful bullet to the head, but usually thought better of it. No matter what agony they were enduring, the torments of hell were much worse.

"I'm sure Al would happily enlighten me, if I asked," she said, face softening slightly. "But that poor little soul is already brainwashed nearly beyond hope. I don't want witchy propaganda. " Heinkel pointed her smoldering cigarette at Hawkeye. "I want facts."

Great. We've regressed to being familiars and witches again.

Hawkeye shot a sharp look across the table- she could glance over alchemy being called witchcraft, if that's how Heinkel chose to interpret it. It wouldn't be the first time alchemy had been mistakenly thought it was a religious sign. But extending the metaphor to having familiars was going a little too far.

"I doubt Alphonse has been telling you anything inaccurate." Heinkel was one to talk about propoganda- as though churches in any world could survive without it.

"The basic idea of alchemy is rearranging atoms into other configurations to create new substances, abiding by rules of equivalent exchange. Alchemists usually have one specialty, but not necessarily." That much you picked up just by listening to alchemists; it was the explanation given to the dumbstruck privates watching an alchemical transmutation for the first time.

"I think I can guess the Colonel's specialty," Heinkel said as she flicked her lighter on lazily, yet anything but absently.

"And maybe Al's brother is some sort of smith, ja?" She continued, noting, but ignoring, Hawkeye's harsh glare. "What's Alphonse' though? Or is he gifted enough to not have one? No wonder they got their claws into him so young ..."

The Iscariot chugged the rest of her beer, and lounged back.

"Your alchemy sounds scientific, but I'm not dumb. Atoms don't just let themselves be mixed around that easily, and especially not without energy of some sort. You can't get something for nothing." God, she hated the dark arts. They, like the devil, offered up temptations obviously too good to be true, but people rarely caught on. Heinkel was convinced, that just as some crucial parts of the body were without pain receptors, damage to the soul, and other incorporeal viscera, went largely unfelt. Most people just thought everything was fine, as long as it didn't hurt.

"What's the price? Your life? Your soul? Someone else's?"

Edited 2008-03-04 03:59 (UTC)

Heinkel's gesture was nothing if not demonstrative, and Hawkeye felt no need to confirm it- the Colonel was fairly open about his second name.

"Fullmetal is a second name accorded by the military- although it usually has something to do with their specialty, in Edward's case that is not so. Edward and Alphonse have a very flexible sort of alchemy."

Hawkeye closed her eyes. Heinkel's claims were getting more and more ridiculous as time passed. "It requires years of study. That's all."

"Ja, now I remember, he got that name because of his prosthetics".

Sometimes Heinkel forgot details of her conversations with "Lyra". However, there were some things she often purposefully tried not to dwell on.

"I think I would prefer if my theory were true," She said, nursing a dwindling cigarette. If the brothers had mastered the black arts, it reeked of a Faustian deal. "There's a lot of sin wrapped around those two. Edward is beyond help, but Alphonse might still have a shot at redemption ..."

Heinkel stared at Hawkeye through a haze of curling smoke. The woman was starting to get on her nerves.

"... and what takes years of study? Learning how to create and wield a philosopher's stone? Or does it take that long to loose enough moral fiber to willingly deal in such wickedness?"

Edited 2008-03-04 21:39 (UTC)

Someone has been indiscreet.

Hawkeye herself knew she had not discussed either Edward's automail, nor- and this was more worrisome- the philosopher's stone.

Hawkeye knew what went into the creation of one, but that was a secret few knew. Just their inner circle of trusted men, and the upper crust that had ordered the creation of them.

Letting the dig against Edward slide would perhaps alert the clergywoman that she had touched on something delicate. "Edward is merely older. They have gone through the same things."

"I was referring to the ability to transmute anything- basic alchemy." But. But Heinkel knew about philosopher's stones, which meant there was an information leak somewhere. She would have to alert the Colonel.

"What makes you bring up philosopher's stones?" It was perhaps a dangerous question, but it was something she'd have to risk.

The Iscariot thought that revealing her knowledge of philosopher's stones might stop Hawkeye from trying to feed her more childish rubbish, and actually result in some worthwhile conversation. Therefore, Heinkel was left fuming at the lieutenant's insulting question. How stupid did that filthy familiar think she was?

"It's obvious that the Lord has seen fit to give Alphonse a second chance," Heinkel said with a noticeably clenched jaw. "He has his body back, and a relatively clean memory. But the same can't be said for Edward, can it?"

"... But don't play dumb with me!" She yelled, grinding her cigarette out. Heinkel grabbed the pitcher and took a swig from it. To hell with decorum. The heathen wench was really getting on her nerves now, and she drank too slow to boot.

"Just because I'm religious doesn't mean I'm an idiot! That devilry makes it look like you can get something for nothing, but it kills for the illusion! Your witches commit mass murder for each and every one of those vile stones!!"

Very, very bad. A serious information leak, and an angry clergywoman who'd drunk two beers quickly and was starting on the pitcher.

Between her own wordplay and the cigarette smoke, Hawkeye was well on her way to a ferocious headache. Dealing with this level of fanaticism was difficult at best.

There was nothing for it. The Lieutenant blanked her face, leaving it expressionless, deadpan, serious.

"I am not playing dumb. I said nothing about my own lack of knowledge of the stones. Nor did I deny that the stones bear a horrendous price. What I did ask was why you brought them up. Their secrets are not common knowledge."

"Lumping those who chose to experiment upon the lives of others and those who wish to improve the lives of others is not a wise generalization to make."

Be careful- oh so careful- with wording, with content, with everything. Hawkeye was walking the knife's edge, and she knew it.

"If I thought you unintelligent I needn't have explained anything to you. As it stands I have tried." Hawkeye couldn't care less whether she was religious or not, frankly. But it was important nonetheless. Because there were things to which her faith would blind her, and things that same faith would make impossible for her to accept.

Not common knowledge?

That made Heinkel pause enough to light another cigarette. It did make sense. You don't tend to broadcast things that unsavory. However, said information hadn't taken long to find her ears.

"I brought them up, because you didn't, and they're obviously where all this 'missing energy' needed to create such false miracles is coming from!!"

She took another gulp of beer, her grip on the pitcher leaving knuckles white. "Experimenting? Improving? Nothing good is ever gained through the blood of innocents!!"

Heinkel normally would have noted the Savior as an exception, but she was livid beyond that meager reasoning. Why was she even here?! The means to dealing with Greed was quickly becoming an odd end in and of itself ...

The Iscariot took a deep breath. She wasn't a regenerator like Father Anderson, or a berserker like Yumie ... wits, skill, and an ample dash of luck, had kept her alive up till now. As much as a raging inferno of holy indignation was telling her to cleanse the bar, baptize it in unclean blood, something told Heinkel to stay her hand ...

Human's weren't divine. They made mistakes, and sometimes couldn't control their fervor. From Heinkel's perspective, the Holy Spirit didn't always start fires. Often, it directed the flames, and at other times, even put them out altogether. Sometimes, you had to listen to heathens. Sometimes, you had to spare them, as well. It was all part of God's plan, you just had to open your heart and listen ...

"We're supposed to be allies, Lieutenant, " she said through gritted teeth. "I promised Al I would try and keep an open mind about this 'alchemy', but these lies through omission are making it very hard for me to do so ... "

Hawkeye brought one elbow up onto the table, propping the first two fingers of her hand against her temple in an effort to stay the onrushing headache, other hand curling around her beer, as she took a deep breath and let it out slowly, closing her eyes as she did so.

By the time the breath was fully expelled, she could deal with this again.

Heinkel had obviously been informed about philosopher's stones in a way that had lent itself to her own perspectives on alchemy. How to clear up the misconceptions without giving out any more information- that was the challenge.

"Alchemy does not require a philosopher's stone. The stone provides the energy to ignore the law of equivalent exchange."

"Very few people in Amestris knew about the formation of the stones. Many of those who did not are the same ones trying to make life better for others. They need not use a philosopher's stone to do so."

Hawkeye could only hope any of this could get through.

It's hard to lie through omission when someone else is filling in the gaps.

"I would hope that we have done nothing that would indicate otherwise." Hawkeye's very presence should have shown her that much. She'd had plenty of practice turning down people's offers of outings- the blonde needn't have come. "I have never been intentionally misleading with you. But I recognize that you don't seem to find that satisfactory." Everyone has their own secrets. It couldn't be that unreasonable to let your allies have theirs.

Heinkel settled back a little, releasing her grip on the pitcher.

It made sense ... at least as much as any witchiness made sense. The Iscariot decided to see where accepting the argument got her.

"You told me about people who don't know about the stones." Heinkel had dealt with individuals who discoursed like Hawkeye before. They usually hung around the Vatican and played politics. There was a reason why she preferred field work. "But what about the moral integrity of those that do, ja?"

When it came to "Lyra", Heinkel already harbored a healthy dose of suspicion. Iscariot had no problem pitting heathens against heathens, but they did have "standards". Though what those were, God only knew. However, Heinkel was also still seething over the mental anguish said woman's accusations had caused Alphonse ... at her expense ...

The Iscariot took a lazy drag from her cigarette, but made a point of angling the smoke away from her companion.

"There are some facts I've been looking to verify. Would you at least be willing to confirm, or deny, them?"

Hawkeye expelled a small breath of relief as Heinkel settled back in the booth- she'd managed to defuse the situation, at least momentarily.

"Most of them are no longer alive to speak for their crimes." It was a mere statement of fact- no need to go into how they had been used as the very ingredients for the tool they had helped to create. Or if they hadn't- it was still suspicious.

She had facts. This information leak was truly obnoxious. But there was simply no helping it. Hawkeye inclined her head to the other woman. "I can make no promises. But I will do what I can."

Heinkel couldn't suppress a frown.

"You know about the stones, which means the flame witch does. From what I've been told, Al and his brother probably do too, as well as God knows who else." Heinkel shot the Lieutenant a cold look. "Do you want to try that explanation again?"

She took two long drags from her cigarette before continuing, giving her seething zeal time to cool. The Iscariot hoped Hawkeye appreciated the sacrifice.

"I want to know about Alphonse and his brother," she said, before sipping from the pitcher again. "Is it true that they tried to resurrect their dead mother? That Al lost his body, and one of those vile stones helped him get it back?"

"We found out about the stones long after they had been created. Those I spoke of who are assumed dead or known to be so are those who worked on their formation, and knew what they were working on."

"The philosopher's stone is widely considered to be a legendary object."

Step carefully, watch your face, explain it slower, in smaller steps. Do a better job.

Hawkeye closed her eyes once more. This is not so much going out for drinks as an interrogation. It wouldn't be the first time that Hawkeye had had to defend her actions, the Colonel's actions. But defending the morality of her world in general? Problematic.

The Lieutenant knew this had been coming. Considering the topics they'd covered, it wasn't a hard leap of logic to make. But still.

Her source of information was damned informed. How the hell. Not on our side. Probably not from my world. The blonde was still running through the list of potential leaks; she had no idea how much the homuculi knew- although as a general rule, it was too much- but the idea of Heinkel being able to carry on a long enough conversation with something she considered a monster to get this much information...

"It is true they tried to bring back their mother." Deadpan. Blank. Formal. "Alphonse did lose his body." That was true in both their worlds. "But in my version of events, that is the state in which he remains. I cannot vouch for the method of his restoration." However likely it seemed- but the two boys had been bent on not using them in her world, once their secrets had been revealed.

The Iscariot grunted, eyes falling on the dwindling pitcher. When the alcohol got low, it was always time to evaluate the situation. Good, fruitful, had potential ... order more ... unproductive, bad, getting worse ... let the encounter dry up with the drink ...

Heinkel knew she could probably get more out of the blonde, but doubted it was worth the effort. Stupid familiars. Why did they have to be so difficult? Even if the gloves came off and the thumbscrews out, Heinkel saw nothing truly worthwhile coming to light. She'd gotten more useful information out of Network chats with monsters ...

The Iscariot pursed her lips, nursing the latest cigarette.

... Inquisitions tended to sour alliances, anyway.

"Since we're having a friendly exchange of information here ..." Heinkel grabbed the pitcher, and made a dent in the remaining beer. "... you got any questions for me?"

Edited 2008-04-09 15:10 (UTC)

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Log; Ongoing

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