Dean ‘Havoc’ Reginald
Reginald kept on a smile as the mercenary dropped down on his chair, brooding over his source of irritation. Occupied with the process of filling his belly, Reginald said nothing at first as he reached over the table, taking the salt shaker. Adding a pinch of salt to his meal, he waited until Damea was comfortable with speaking again.
"Fine, I'll eat," sighed the mercenary with some reluctance. Damea took the bowl and quickly began shoveling spoonfuls of porridge into his watering mouth. Reginald could tell the man had not eaten properly for days, without the need for an inspection. Damea was restless and easily frustrated, common symptoms of hunger. The mercenary’s righteous outburst at Touya was proof of that. Fortunately, the mercenary had managed to keep himself from dehydrating. "I can't believe... he would try and get himself killed again... Really, how many times is it going to take for him to realize! He's not going to keep getting lucky like this and he'll actually get himself killed. What's that going to do? I really wonder about him sometimes... that man has a serious deathwish...."
“We all have different ways of achieving our goals,” Reginald said, observing Damea, “Our faceless friend is simply doing what he thinks is best. It’s not always the most effective way…”
Reginald caught the impish look that had crept up on Damea’s face and glanced behind the sell sword, into the other room. Witnessing his former Lieutenant as she administered the faceless his food, the medic’s eyebrows raised in a gesture of mild amazement. The tender aura surrounding April and Touya was hard to miss and he inferred the meaning behind Damea’s look immediately. “But sometimes it doesn’t have to be,” he smirked, completing his sentence.
"Although, if April sticks around I think he might just make a complete turnaround. I mean, she seems to have gotten closer to him recently. Last I remember she was about ready to rip his head off and now look at her. She's feeding him," Damea grinned, his anger forgotten.
“Indeed, who would have ever imagined?” Reginald said, finishing the last of his gruel.
April Rosevolt
Wearing a sour expression, Touya’s eyes looked at the spoon and then April, acting like she had just sullied his pride. "I can feed myself," he stated distastefully.
His attempt to regain control ended in abysmal failure. April regarded his struggles with wry amusement as the therian hissed at the pain preventing him from lifting his arms properly. Surrendering the thought of independence, he glared at the wet slob of gruel before blushing faintly. Stifling the urge to chuckle at unintended helplessness, she held the spoon still as he anxiously stretched forwards and bit onto the cutlery.
“No need to feel so ashamed,” April remarked, tilting her head side wards at him, “Or would you rather I called Damea or Reginald to feed you?”
Chewing onto the food, Touya put on a scowl as the muggy taste soaked into his mouth. For a second, April instinctively drew back, anticipating a wad of regurgitated porridge. Fortunately, Touya was able to retain his dignity and he gulped down the tasteless morsel.
"You're trying to poison me, yes? What is this?" Touya blanched, visibly disturbed by the flavor.
“Oh, look at you princess,” April responded, “And here I was thinking you therians were used to living it out tough in the wilderness.”
Scooping another portion up the moment he swallowed, April smiled at the question. “Crushed oats, water, milk and a bit of salt if I know Reginald,” she answered eventually, suggesting the savory experience was not her first encounter with it. Reginald’s emergency rations had been the source of many profanities in the past, though it was far from the worst military culinary had to offer. “A good source of fiber and some protein, both of which are stable nutrients for a human’s diet.”
Offering him the second round, April waited politely for the therian to finish. Methodically, she repeated each step as she fed him, blowing onto the steaming mush before stretching the spoon out. In between his cursing, April would take the time out to consume her own food. They continued on in this fashion, sitting beside each other, joking, until Touya indicated he was satisfied. Or perhaps he was on the verge of vomiting. Preferring not to press on the matter, April deposited the empty bowl on the table, stacking it onto her own. With the curtains closed, she looked to the grandfather clock in the corner of the room for a sense of time, discovering that an hour had elapsed since she had joined him.
“That’s it for now,” April concluded, standing up. Once again she was forced to pull up the hems of her disproportionate trousers. Taking the bowls within one hand, she started off in the direction of the kitchen, where Reginald and Damea still resided, before pausing behind him.
“I appreciate what you did back there by the way. You're a very interesting therian,” she stated abruptly, referencing their encounter with the Jaeger Guard. It would have been so much easier for him to kill her, as simple as it was when April abandoned him in the fields. Amazingly, Touya stuck by her despite everything, defended her even. “Thank you, Touya. Have a good night.”
Miles Riverbend
"This is most concerning news," Victor asserted as his eyes scanned down the report before him, "To think even a man of your...reputation would be unable to stop one therian..."
Miles stood to attention in the court room, his proud features impassive. Inwardly, he glowered at the old general, loathing his condescending tone.
"The therian was assisted by a human woman. Either ex-military or a looter," Miles informed, hoping to direct the discussion on a constructive path. Hushed murmurs were whispered among the audience and leaders alike as everyone divined the implications of his discovery.
"Fear not," Victor said, silencing the rumors before they could spread dissent, "We have strict security measures in place. Even if the therians were to shapeshift, we would be able to detect them."
"Oh? And how will you detect human sympathizers?" snapped Miles.
Victor's brown eyes lowered at the Beast Slayer and for a split second Miles was certain he said something. Fixing his classes, Victor lowered the report instead. The old general cleared his throat to attain everyone's attention.
"In light of recent activities, I feel now is the right time to introduce our guest."
The grand double doors opened on cue, like some grand reveal, and behind them came a single man. Miles' eyebrow raised ever so slightly as a robed figure entered the room, his signature wheezing instantly recognizable. Painted in red, the scientist was a picture of macabre machinery. The portions of skin which he deigned to show better resembled dissolved tissue paper and barely masked the disconcerting make-up of cables beneath. As ever, the man's face was hidden behind a mask. He stopped besides Miles and nodded as a form of greeting.
"Greetings," hissed the scientist with startling volume. Miles glared at the man, having never realized he was capable of synthetically amplifying his voice. Just what other secrets did he hide? The result was a slightly robotic tone, not that the scientist let that dissuade him, "You have all been made aware of recent incursions, yes?"
"It's hard not to know," Miles rolled his eyes, "People on the streets are on the verge of panic. If even our vast armies and firearms cannot eliminate a terrorist cell, what can?"
"Then I believe it is time to show you the culmination of my work," the scientist said, expertly incorporating Miles' sentence to suit his purposes. His arm swung out, gesturing to the doorway once more as something clanked towards the entrance.
"This, is the future of mankind!"