Feng Shui (Tai Shan)
A little saddening (at, you know, the sudden loss of the rainbows and giggles that make up amusement), more so awkward. Because, unfortunately, Feng here just so happened to be one of those very few killers that didn't actually appreciate watching people getting beaten up. Even, as it seemed, a deranged sexual predator. Oh, but wait! That's not it! I have an
As you can see, Michael doesn't understand the meaning of the middle finger. Not that she could make it at him, anyway. And to think he used to be a nice guy. And devoted. And holy. Satan, the fuck did you do? But, before the devil could answer, Swain began to talk. And, apparently, so did Michael. It was entirely by chance that Feng's ancient Chinese counterparts didn't-- Oh wait. No, they started chatting too. With a head full of overly talkative voices --a rare occurrence, mind you, as they're usually too egotistical to talk amongst their natural enemy-- it's not really difficult to believe that Feng really had no way of paying attention; nor was she in the mood even if she wanted to. They were so damn distracting that she couldn't even focus enough to take an impression of the evil CEO, although Michael instantly noted when a sexual predator was thrown into the room. Not an improvement, thank you. (You should see what it's like to listen to very, very Chinese accented English in the midst of an annoying brat, in a serious meeting, behind the stereotypical 'evil laughter' soundtrack. Beyond painful. Evil laughter? That's Satan trying to be funny.)
So, rather than anything, the first half of Swain's speech fell to deaf ears. And then, much like a sudden break of light in the clouds, three out of four idiots shut their traps in pure, somewhat utter shock. Or, well, maybe they thought that Feng should be listening. But either way, the kid was completely whole enough to see Nira's death scene; capturing the essence in now-turned sober, indefinitely hard eyes. And, although the photo was beyond gruesome, this Chinese lady gave not a single sign to show disgust, rage or sadness; all of which some of the others immediately seemed to demonstrate, whether noticeable or not. Instead, the only things that might've shown were the aforementioned eyes; and deeper still the sudden, clear silence within her thoughts.
Feng's lack of reaction could mostly be given to the fact that she never really knew or spoke to Swain's secretary in the first place, other than a few greetings here or there. But even as that was, the slow, deadly boiling anger of defiling a corpse so was easily brewed --much to Satan's glee-- over the second half of Swain's speech; in which, with the appearance of a potential outlet, toned down the overwhelming emotion to a sort of dangerous, cold calm. By the time the kid had opened her black letter and read the name inside, her brain was very much her own again; headache and all. So, when Frankie verified their partnership and lost his childish charms, she was all very willing to go. Hey, those play dates weren't for nothing. I'd say we work pretty well together, even more so when he.. appears to be sane. Or, well, it could be said that Feng honestly wouldn't have cared who she'd been stuck with. As long as, you know, revenge was possible.
"...is it alright to go now? or do you wish to listen more, Tai Shan...?" With a carefree, cold smile --half from the happiness of having her head back--, Feng stood, grabbed her polearm, and made straight for the door; calling words over her shoulder as she did so. "No, it's alright. Let's g--" AGAIN? Or that's what she planned on doing, had not a certain angel starting up his efforts again. And when an inanimate brat starts, he'll never shut up. Her course changed then, as she veered back, this time walking a burdened beeline towards Charlotte (her back, preferably); who happened to be situated next to Frankie. So, you know, maybe it'll be less awkward. "On second thought, give me a second. An obnoxious idiot won't shut up unless I do." With a very, very long sigh, Feng summoned an angel; getting a halo and kind of slightly.. shining at that moment. 'Hey, where's the wings? You know they're damn awesome.' Shut up.
As fast, and hopefully as effortless, as possible, Feng put a quick hand on Charlotte's shoulder; immediately spilling a cold, somewhat relaxing sensation that could only mean a divine's trademark: healing. If it were not for the momentary good nature that always took the kid when Michael came, she probably would've just kind of.. left it at that; if she ever started helping in the first place. But alas, life was never goes the way you want it to. So, instead, Feng ended up pouring a small chunk of her energy to pull broken bones back together and partially numb pain for about five minutes; all knit in a nice little self-serving bundle that would work and finish the job even when she left. A chunk and a bundle she could go without, but it kind of bothered her nonetheless. In any case, it took maybe five, ten seconds of her just standing there; violently internally throwing it together until Michael was satisfied enough to leave, just because she was pissed off at said angel. (So, as you may imagine, it might sort of hurt in those five-ten minutes of healing anyway.)
Needless to say, the moment Feng was done she threw back her hand, returned to normal and headed for the door, polearm on shoulders; knowing that Frankie would catch up, if he still happened to be there, whenever. "Right. Ready whenever you are, big guy."