Manya chuckles as Yohan proves to be a rather awkward character, stumbling a bit on his words in order to gather himself. It amused her, to say the least, and took a bit of an edge off from the atmosphere of the room. With his rather vague explanation, she lets out a sigh and folds her bottom arms, while shrugging with the upper two, shutting her eyes. "Well, I suppose it is best not to be spoiled anyways. I rather prefer it that way, anyways." It was then that Kage spoke out, catching her attention. He started off with a rather good point, what even was this show? She waited for a moment, rubbing her chin with one of her bottom hands, listening to what he had to say.
As he had finished, leaned against the window frame, she quietly stepped over, leaned over and sifted through the files, scanning them over. After a moment of silently reading, she let out an abrupt whistle before standing back up. She rubbed the back of her head and clearly giving more thought on what to say on the matter. "Well, first off Mr. Sanders... I was under the assumption there would be some form of exercises displaying a more practical role in today's... relatively peaceful society, in an entertaining fashion. I mean, in the eyes of the general public, they see these weapons of war and think only of their killing power, and honestly... some of those models may have been used to brutally kill some of their loved ones of the past, so can hardly blame them on that," she says, in a rather blunt manner. With another sigh she shrugs her arms. "It isn't going to be easy, and the debt thing is a bitch... but... damn, I dunno about you guys, but I'm feelin' this one, like it needs to be done," she continues, nervously scratching the back of her head with her right upper arm, her bottom two folded. "Plus, I kinda got a machine I care about testifying the case of... for, y'know, stupid sentimentality reasons."
Then Darusan actually moved, catching her attention, thinking he had maybe fallen asleep. Watching as he wrote something on a notepad, throwing it on the table. Looking at it, it was clearly his contact information. Then looked back over as he spoke out, in a to-the-point and militaristic manner, saluted, then walked out. She herself saluted but in a more confused manner, watching as he left, marching out all the way. For a moment she stared, before looking around at the others, pointing a few times, completely at a loss for words. Then in similar fashion, took a pen in her lower right hand, wrote down her own contact information, including a less-than-professional email id: TheManicManyapede.
"Feel free to contact me about anything, it'd be nice to see something other than 'see hot singles in your area,' or another offer for hand lotion," she says facetiously, ending with a short snort.