Pangaea

(Time to start! Hooray for comedic misunderstanding of normal culture!)

The Levine stronghold was quiet as the sun rose, bathing its towering walls in golden light. The soldiers on the battlements stood watch, the guard towers overlooking the vast badlands below and the city behind them and offering a perfect vantage point from which to spy oncoming enemies, but the sentinels needn't have bothered. There was not a trespasser in sight, and it looked to be just another peaceful morning. They collectively breathed a sigh of relief, and gave thanks for the ending of the war that had plagued their lands so recently, even if this peace was only temporary.

The quiet footfalls of the lone figure in green, her small, fragile form seemingly out of place in that blank steel corridor like a rose on a battlefield, rang out through the otherwise empty halls. The shifts had just changed, which meant that the other occupants of the base had, for the most part, either made their way to their stations, or had made their way back to their quarters for a well-earned rest.

"Hey, Unit 17!" The loud voice from behind her startled her, almost causing her to drop the small tray she carried. Turning, she stood stiffly, saluting with her free hand while tucking the tray securely under her arm. That tray was the container for supplies vital to her mission - a relief expedition which had brought her to new and unfamiliar territory: the male pilots' quarters. Having just arrived at the base recently, she still was not acquainted with her contractor's dwelling place, as she had not yet had the time to report to that location yet. That was, incidentally, one of her secondary objectives.

"Sir," She replied dutifully. The one who had hailed her jogged out of a side passage, and sized her up with an expression of mixed confusion, worry, and irritation.

"At ease, 17. Anyway, what are you doing here? I know you haven't been assigned any duties at the lab, yet, but you still don't belong here in the residential wing. Besides, these are the pilots' quarters. Don't tell me the Squadron Leader ordered you here, or something. Even if that's technically not prohibited, Operators are too scarce to be treated like toys."

"I was not ordered here, sir," Canon responded quickly. Although some of the euphemisms and cultural quirks of Human language escaped her, she still caught the implications behind the soldier's irritated remark. She wasn't sure why, exactly, but for some reason, she felt rather strange. Her response was somewhat rushed, as though she had lost her composure, although she didn't know why that might be. A warmth had also risen in her cheeks that was distinctly abnormal. She couldn't identify these symptoms as signs of any sort of ailment or disease, and a quick check of her memories showed that they hadn't been present a moment ago. She could only assume that the soldier's comment had somehow induced these bizarre sensations. However, she had little time at the moment to explore this puzzling predicament.

"Then why the devil are you all the way over here?" The soldier's gaze turned to the small tray under her arm, then back to her face. "Oh, don't tell me. He's having you cook him meals? I'm going to have to report him for thi-"

"No, sir. It falls within my duties as his personal attendant to ensure that he remains supplied with the provisions he needs to remain functional during operations. Therefore, this unit decided to personally oversee this matter. It is also necessary that I report to him directly and inform him of my presence so that he may begin preparations for combat at his leisure. Thus, I gathered the necessary supplies and proceeded immediately to his quarters." To the operator's bewilderment, the strange sensations she was feeling not only persisted, but grew worse. The heat in her face had risen to almost unbearable levels, and she for some reason felt compelled to evacuate the area as quickly as possible, even if it meant aborting her urgent operation. It was almost as though she was experiencing the sensation known as "guilt." As though she did not belong there, and regretted her choice of actions. What was she thinking? This was an important duty to be fulfilled as the personal attendant of the Squadron Leader Cyrus Levine, her Contractor and commanding officer. She could not afford to fail now in her obligations.

"Are you sure that's all, 17?" The soldier asked. Canon noticed that his confusion and annoyance seemed to have been replaced by something else. His words clearly carried some sort of insinuation, as though he understood some sort of deeper motive on her part, but for all her computational power, she could not comprehend his meaning. And he almost looked amused now, although why that would be, she would never understand. Just what was going on? It seemed that his previous comment had triggered some sort of subconscious reaction within her, and, if his current expression, tone, and wording was any indication, perhaps he had intended this reaction to take place? But why? There were so many things she didn't understand. She made a note to run a search on these symptoms and download all available information on the subject to her brain at the first opportunity. Wait, that reaction seemed odd. Surely this situation was not of such a priority as that? No, the mission was first priority, and she had no time to think of anything else, so why was she focusing so much on this strange sensation?

"Yes, sir," She replied, confusion and uncertainty evident in her voice. For some reason, she just couldn't maintain eye contact, and so let her gaze drift away. The soldier simply laughed, and, for some reason, violated basic decorum by patting her on the head and ruffling her hair condescendingly, a gesture which further irritated her, as it risked undoing all of her careful grooming and preparation from that morning and returning her hair to its natural unkempt state. Worse yet, it increased the symptoms she had been experiencing before tenfold, causing the heat in her face to spread over her entire body. She felt like she was being pricked by countless tiny pins, and she didn't like it. "S-sir?" She stammered in confusion.

"I'm honestly surprised. I hear the guys at the last base called you "Doll." I never expected... Well, I wouldn't worry about things like that right now, okay 17? Your job takes priority over your emotions, so don't forget that, alright?" The man grinned and walked off with a laugh, waving over his shoulder and calling out one final remark that was more confusing than all the others. "Good luck, though, 17! I hope you manage to 'persuade' him!"

"Good... luck?" Canon repeated, watching as the man headed off to his station. She didn't understand his final advice at all. Did his admonishments mean she was doing something wrong? Then why had he said "good luck?" What did it all mean, and why did she feel so worked up over a simple conversation? Her composure was a wreck, and a tingling heat had spread throughout her body, from her head to her toes. Her mission had been compromised, and she had to wonder if she could still complete it now that she felt so strange. But she had to press on, no matter what bizarre conditions she was experiencing. So, tentatively, she began creeping along the hall, her step noticeably lighter, as though she was afraid of being found again. She clutched her tray tightly, and to her surprise, noticed that her hands were actually shaking, causing the dishes she carried to quietly clatter together with each step. What was wrong with her? She couldn't wait until this was all over. She only hoped she would return to normal soon.

Sighing with relief, she reached the door of her partner and commander. Gently, nervously, she raised a hand, and knocked quietly on its smooth, cold surface, the cool steel paneling refreshing after the abnormal amounts of heat her body had produced. For some reason, she felt torn, as though she wasn't sure she wanted Cyrus to answer. Maybe it would be best to just l- What was she thinking? Trying to shirk her duties over something so trivial? Unacceptable! No, she would have to wait, and simply continue in her obligations. She just hoped these bizarre feelings wouldn't cause her to blunder, or make a mistake.

"Sir? It's Sevente- Erm... Canon," She stammered, her voice dropping to a whisper the moment she slipped up, as though that single error had taken all of her confidence away. A mistake already? She needed to collect herself quickly, before she made a fool of herself! "I've brought you something to eat," She added nervously. The thought occurred to her that she might be missing something. After all, that soldier had mistaken her intent somehow. What if Cyrus had the same misconception? Or rather, what if her actions were somehow significant in a manner she did not understand? She didn't want to give anyone the wrong impression. If she made some sort of faux pas just by doing this...

But she had already begun. There was only one thing to do now: see things through.

An exasperated sigh escaped the lips of a scarlet haired boy, alone in his personal quarters deep within the Levine stronghold. After a meeting with one of the royal officials from the city, he was left fatigued and weary from the conversation alone. Politics had never appeared to interest him and left him bored to no end. Even if it was only mid morning, he felt as if all of his energy saved up for that day had been completely depleted. With the end of the war, the atmosphere of the Levine stronghold guarding the city had become more lax. At first, it seemed a bit uncomfortable and Cyrus could not help but feel uneasy and on edge having to be ready at all times for a sudden attack or mission. But now, as the 17 year old sat in his room, he was thankful for the easiness that had settled over the facility.

Letting out another, exhausted huff, Cyrus flopped, back first, onto the bed that lay in the far right corner of the room. His quarters were one of the standard military pilot rooms. Colorless furniture and walls, the room was extremely dull but unusually comfortable at the same time. Being a member of the Levine household, though, Cyrus had been promised better living conditions once he arrived at the stronghold and was giving his current room until a "better" room was found for him. It had been days, and still Cyrus was here. He didn't mind it though. It was not like he was uncomfortable. He liked the dull room. Nothing to flashy and it didn't take much to keep it clean. A large room with large, ornate furniture would be a hassle to keep tidy and even Canon might insist on cleaning his room for him. Cyrus shook his head and his lips turned up into a slight grin at the though of his up-tight partner. Back at the facilities of the Titan Project, Canon had thoroughly kept her room and his, neat and tidy to perfection. Once or twice, Cyrus objected to her housekeeping and insisted that he should be the one who kept his own room clean. But eventually, she got the best of him and he reluctantly allowed her to keep her duties cleaning both of their rooms. But now since they arrived here, Cyrus strongly ordered that she would not clean his room unless he asked. After a few days, he had kept his room decent. Of course it was nothing to what Canon's abilities allowed her.

Cyrus sat up on the colorless bed and ran his fingers through his vermillion hair. Where was Canon now? Of course, since it was already probably about mid-morning, she was already up and going as usual. The boy let out a big yawn and as he got to his feet he outstretched his arms to shake off the sleepiness that was currently plaguing him. Having had to get up at the break of dawn every morning should not have been a problem for him, but the meeting left him dreary and tired.

"A nice nap later would be nice." Cyrus commented to himself as he plopped himself back down onto the bed. A soft knock on the metal door interrupted his daydream of nap time. Beyond the door, came a small muffled voice that Cyrus instantly recognized.

"Sir? It's Sevente- Erm... Canon, I've brought you something to eat," Cyrus chuckled. She corrected herself. Obviously she was not yet used to the new nickname he had given her. For as long he could remember, Cyrus always couldn't stand calling a person by a "number". And upon their first meeting, Cyrus instantly refused to call her by her operator number or her previous nickname, "Doll". To Cyrus, that name seemed to be used as an insult towards Canon and he disliked it immediately. Coming up with a new name for her, Cyrus hoped, would have probably been one of the few acts of kindness she had received since her birth. It angered him that she had been treated like this all her life. Just because she was "not human".

Cyrus got up from the bed and the aroma of breakfast wafted into the room. Opening the metal door, Cyrus greeted the girl with a bright grin. "Well what are you waiting for? Come in! I'm starving!"

A woman in a fitted white jumpsuit and dark military boots padded softly and quickly through the wide halls of the Levine stronghold. Her soft, short, blue hair swayed synchronously with the movement of her body as she walked, ineffectively held back by two white clips. The shift was just changing, and various people strode purposefully in various directions. The figure acknowledged those she passed, but did not stop. She merely continued striding purposefully toward her destination.

During her walk, Operator unit 033 thought on several things. First and foremost on her mind was her meeting with her Contractor in the Hangar. She hoped that she had gathered all necessary information and would be up to his expectations. Another cause for concern was an odd sensation in her abdomen that comprised of tightness as well as a strange fluttering. Bookworm hoped she had not consumed anything that would be detrimental to her health. It seemed peculiar that the sensation got worse as her mind focused on the topic of the imminent meeting; however,she did not have enough data to positively conclude anything.

Second on her mind was a topic more in her range of expertise. To be specific, weaponry. The part of her mind that was not focused on the forthcoming meeting was pondering the addition of a new type of laser weapon to the Mogura. There were several important factors to decide upon in this matter. Firstly, the modification of said weapon to better suit the combat specialties of Mogura. Secondly, adapting Mogura's hull to place the weapon in an effective position, and thirdly, wiring the new weapon for use at the earliest time possible. She realized that would be something that could be discussed with her Contractor. She frowned as her stomach gave another unusual flutter and quickly pushed the feeling away.

Bw quickly arrived at the hangar. She was satisfied to see that she had arrived first. It was expected since she was more than half an hour early for the meeting, but satisfying nonetheless. She strode over to Mogura, her long legs covering the space briskly. She looked over the large machine, taking a clean rag to any spot she deemed dingy and tightening any exposed screw that had any unnecessary give. Her mind was so focused on the task at hand that she was nearly not alerted by the sound of approaching footsteps. She immediately replaced the tools she had been employing and stood at attention, but she could not keep her eyes from wandering to look as the man came into view. As soon as his gaze was on her, her eyes snapped back to attention and she properly saluted, though she was a bit hurried and rigid.

=A man in a dark olive drab jump suit, with the Levine's military insignia pinned upon it, walks into view. It is noticeable both by his older appearance that this large man has been in the service a while, still though he is brand new to the role of contractor and decided to come in early to get a fuller understanding of at the very least his Titan. In his hand he holds a clip board that contains all the general data on the Mogura and even more general information on his operator. His eyes studying the data while he walks into the hanger.
He hears the sharp scuffing of feet as he sees this woman in a jumpsuit of her own snap to attention and salute him.
As he stands there puzzled at the woman's presence she can see the name tag on his suit with bold letters reading the name Zhorne, as the man before her was Hanz Zhorne, a man who though still very young in his late 20s is considered one of the oldest soldiers to come out of infantry, mostly due to him surviving a position in the military where life expectancy is traumatically low. Wondering why this woman is saluting, he looks behind him once to the left and once to the right, to see if any commanding officer was behind him to ensure she was not saluting him. Seeing as they were the only two in the vicinity he concludes she must be saluting him.
He walks towards glancing from her to the clipboard before breaking the silence.

Go ahead and drop the hand, I dont do all that saluting crap.

=He examines her from head to toe, as this was the first time he ever seen an operator before. He notices a set of numbers on her jumpsuit that read 033. He looks back down on his clipboard and confirms that this was the number of the operator assigned to him=

You are 033 assigned to the Mogul, correct? Is that what I am to call you or do you go by any other alias'?

=He ask deciding to get right down to business, and learn about his partner, secretly not at all thrilled to be teamed up with a partner for a reason recessing back within his soul=

(again sorry fro the delay)

As the door opened, Canon's fears abated somewhat. Her commander greeted her with a smile and a slightly impatient command to enter, so she did so. He said he was "Starving," which meant things were worse than she had thought. Had he not eaten since he had arrived at the base? But why? Perhaps he was ill? No, he didn't look it. In any case, it looked like she would need more food, if this was the case.

Or, wait, was this another figure of Human speech? Perhaps he simply meant he was hungry, and was choosing this as a creative way of saying it? She wouldn't question his judgement, but, in her opinion, it seemed very inefficient to refer to one condition as another. Speaking in such ambiguous ways only made one difficult to understand.

As soon as the young operator had entered the room, she turned about, stood at attention, and saluted, her resolute, calm expression and military demeanor contrasting sharply with her young physical age and fragile appearance, the blush she could not understand still lingering on her cheeks and making her look rather out of place in that dignified atmosphere.

"Sir!" She declared in a clear, composed voice. "Operator 017, now to be identified at your own request as 'Canon,' reporting for duty, along with the MBU-01, designation 'Fidelis,' which has been transported to this base along with myself. In addition, I would also like to present a special meal I prepared for your relief and gratification. Please, accept it as a token of my gratitude, and forgive me for speaking and acting out of turn in this manner." Taking the tray of food with her free hand, she respectfully offered it to her partner, not dropping her attentive stance for an instant.

Even if Cyrus had ordered the young Operator to act casually, she honestly had trouble doing so. The various cultural attributes of Human speech absolutely confounded her, and she found herself at a loss to initiate or participate in a normal discussion. On top of that, normal, everyday chats had a tendency to involve aspects of the emotional: yet another thing Canon's purely rational mind could not identify or define. It frustrated her to no end - at least, in as much as she could comprehend that Human concept of being frustrated - that there were such things that could not be simply downloaded into her mind and instantly understood. This was the process known by Humans as "learning," a process she knew she would have difficulty with.

Cyrus, as he took the tray, sighed and shook his head. "At ease, Canon." Setting the tray onto the small table against the far wall, he pulled out a chair and sat down. "You know, a simple "Good morning" would have been nice." All this military jargon just gave him a large headache when he was off duty but he had to understand that this was how his blonde partner was "taught". Even though he desperately wanted to break down the wall of formality between them, he knew that it would take time and patience. They had only known each other for a few months now, and to ask her to act out of the norm was pushing it a bit. Maybe someday......

Letting out another heavy sigh he pointed to the other chair across from him. "You just gonna stand there? You can sit down you know. Just make yourself comfortable." Cyrus told her with a gentle voice as he began to gulp down what she had brought him. Deciding to strike up a conversation, Cyrus stopped chewing and set down the utensils next to the tray. "So, do you know our schedule for today? I just got back from an early meeting with one of the royal officials about some issues concerning stuff about something with god-knows-what and this and that. I wasn't really paying any attention but he got what he needed. I haven't been out since so none of my superiors have told me if there was anything I needed to do for today. I was about to leave and find out myself with an empty stomach but fortunately you managed to catch me before I could go."

Since they had just arrived, Cyrus had not been given any major duties to carry out and had been aimlessly wandering around the facility with absolutely nothing to do. But he knew that these days of boredom would quickly come to an end. Knowing that the arising tension between the political factions would eventually lead to bloodshed, Cyrus quickly returned to the Levine stronghold to help prepare for the upcoming conflict. This wasn't the time to be carelessly lingering about. Even though, peace had settled over the facility, Cyrus knew that it would be short lived.

Canon gave a curt nod, and quickly seated herself in the chair opposite her commander. "I apologize, sir," She said respectfully as she seated herself, her rigid military posture not faltering even an instant as she changed her position. "I only meant to report to you in a proper fashion. I will make note of your request, and employ it as a standard means of salutation in regards to yourself while off-duty."

"Complying with request for information, sir. Our schedule for today consists of the following. At 1400, we will commence a training exercise alongside the Drill Unit, designation 'Mogura,' and its pilots, to help prepare ourselves for combat as a squadron. A three-man squadron from the Elevie House will be joining us and performing a mock battle with our units, as we have recently made an alliance with that group. However, tactical forecasts for the event indicate that this alliance and mock battle - scheduled at the request of that squadron - could possibly be a trap. Therefore, I have taken the liberty of loading both training rounds and live rounds into your Titan's weaponry, so as to be able to switch immediately in the event of a double-cross. At 1600 hours, in the event that nothing goes wrong, we will return from the exercise and hopefully return in time to meet in the mess hall for dinner before we move to the briefing room and await an announcement from Organization Zero. This is all that I have been informed of, and thus might be subject to change. As such, I will keep a close watch on information updates, in the event that an alteration is made to our agenda, and inform you the moment such a thing occurs. That is all, sir."

In the time that she was able to observe him, she noted his appearance. He was a tall man with blond hair and blue-gray eyes in a dark olive flight suit. He seemed a bit older than she appeared, perhaps in his early thirties. From the name on the suit, Bw reasoned that this was her contractor, Hanz Zhorne. Her eyes now facing forward she waited patiently. At his command to drop her hand, 033 became slightly confused by his use of the word 'crap.' She knew that 'crap' was a word normal humans used for feces or to express confusion or pain, but to her knowledge, none of those definitions fit this situation. All she could reason was that her saluting had somehow offended him. "I apologize, Sir. I did not mean to offend," she said clearly, but softly as her hand dropped to her side.

This meeting was already going worse than expected. She had managed to disappoint her new Contractor without saying a word. She continued to stand at attention as he examined her, though she was experiencing the odd sensations once again. The tightness in her abdomen was now accompanied by a tightness in her throat and a burning at the back of her eyes. She quickly pushed these away and was relived when the strange symptoms lessened.

"The Mogura, Sir," she said, hoping she would not be offensive in correcting him. "You may refer to me as you wish. I have also been identified by the alias "Bookworm."

Cyrus listened intently to the schedule, Canon and himself were about to carry out. It seemed interesting. A mock battle? He hadn't been in combat since they had arrived and he was itching to pilot the "Fidelis". The "Mogura"? It sounded familiar. Cyrus searched his memory in an attempt to remember who piloted it as he finished the rest of his meal. Setting the utensils down on top of the empty plate, he sighed and leaned back in his chair, satisfied.

"So basically, training exercise, dinner, and then Organization Zero announcements? Doesn't sound too busy of a schedule depending on how the excercise goes. Sounds like today's gonna be an easy day, dontcha think?" Cyrus lifted himself from his seat and slowly made his way over to the bed where he flung himself, back first, onto the gray mattress. Putting his arms behind his head he closed his eyes. A trap, huh? She was smart to set both training rounds as well as live ones into the Titan. There was probably a slim chance of worst case scenario but it wouldn't hurt to prepare if things got ugly. A slight grin appeared on the boy's face. Analyzing every single possibility and planning ahead. That was Canon for you. He would have to thank her later for being observant. Unlike her, he would have just gone in there without a care in the world, not really being cautious of a sudden betrayal at all. At times, he could be a bit more trusting that he should and Cyrus knew that that slight flaw might come back to bite him in the long run.

Opening one eye to look at his female partner, Cyrus' carefree expression turned serious. "Do you really think they would do such a thing? Lure us into a trap like that?"

"Indeed, sir," The quiet young Operator said, nodding slightly - she had read about that gesture being used to express affirmation recently, and had wanted to try it to see if her commander thought its usage appropriate, given the context - and answering both of his questions at once. "A betrayal is not only possible, but also - according to the calculations done by both myself and the pre-action intelligence gathering and forecast quantum processing system 'Mobius Ward' - highly probable. The Elevie House has shown itself in our records to be a highly ambitious one, with precedents of disregard for codes of honor and treaties of alliance. If this trend continues, as it is likely that it has, then they surely will wish to defeat their potential allies as well as their enemies. While they formerly had amongst them a skilled tactical planner, he recently defected to another faction, leaving them lacking strategically, which might explain why this plan lacks their trademark subtlety. According to our tactical forecast data, there is a 69% chance that this exercise is indeed a trap. If I may speak my opinion freely, then they likely reason that we lack skill just as much as they do, and they have the advantage of numbers and surprise, thus making them confident in their success against us. Also, I suspect that this is likely a capture, and not a kill, operation. Should they disable our machines without damaging them and lay their hands on either myself, or on Operator 33, then they could use our machines and ourselves to strengthen their own squadrons. Because of Mobius Ward's predictions, the council of executives accepted the offer only on the condition that we be the ones to choose the area in which the exercise will be performed. Our commanders chose the badlands just south of the base, so as to give the Mogura and the Fidelis each their maximum advantage. In addition, plans are being carried out to lay manually activated traps in the area, so as to wear down our enemies and put us on even footing should they betray us."

Cyrus nodded slowly. Betrayal, huh? The way, Canon put it, it seemed that they would be absolutely ready for it when it happened. Now that he thought about it, all the pieces fell into place. "I see. Do the other pilots know of this? If not, then we should inform them immediately." Cyrus swung his legs over the bed and stood up. It was time to go. If this was going to be a full out battle, he would have to be on full alert.

"So, things have already turned out like this, huh? With all this political tension, this would have happened eventually. It was only a matter of time." Turning to look at Canon once again, his eyes burned with determination. "Its time to go. Are you ready?"

(grrrr! so short! sorry!)

Canon stood and nodded as her Contractor, too, rose to his feet, the fire of courage shining in his eyes. That was one of the many things she admired about him. No matter what the odds were, if it was necessary he fight, he was perfectly willing to. Truly, she was honored to serve such a noble individual, even if he insisted repeatedly that she was not his subordinate in that regard. Which, in and of itself, was another thing she was most grateful for. The fact that her great commander treated her differently than she had ever been treated before... she wasn't sure why, since she had little experience with the matter, but it made her feel... different than she did before. She had identified the sensation as, perhaps, that elusive thing known as "happiness," and because of that, she had a feeling that she knew why all Humans strove for that quality. Happiness... It was something she herself desired, too.

"They have been notified by an automated message from Mobius Ward," Canon replied. "And I am ready to leave at any time."

"Good. They need to be aware of this. It wouldn't be good if they were caught off guard." There was no time to loose. They needed to head to the hanger. It was most likely one of his superiors would be there for a quick briefing of the training simulation. Doing a quick inspection and overview of the "Fidelis" himself wouldn't hurt either. He would ask Canon about that when they got there. It wasn't that he didn't trust that Canon already had everything in order, but it would be nice for her to give a little explanation on what she changed or adjusted if she did.

Trust. He trusted his partner with his life. Many of his friends from the city had asked him if he really should be trusting, "that thing". Trust was an extremely important thing to have dealing with life or death situations. But trusting a man made "machine" he called his partner? Of course he trusted her. To him she was neither "a thing" or a "machine". She was Canon, his dear partner and friend. He didn't think of her as anything less than that. She was Canon, the girl he cared so much about.

"Well, then. Let's make our way to the hangar. There are somethings I want to check and I need your help. Let's hope the pilots of the "Mogura" are there as well." Cyrus walked over to the cold metal door and opened it. "Let's go, miss."

"Roger, sir!" Canon said hastily, nodding in place and salute and following on her commander's heels, taking his quiet insistence - his reference to her as "miss" tipped her off. Nobody had ever referred to her as such before, and the honorific, if she recalled its definition properly, did not suit her position, species, or status in the least, meaning it couldn't have been a serious remark... she thought - as an order to hurry up. Since Cyrus wanted her to move quickly, she did so, striding briskly along on his right side, just a step behind him as a measure of deference to his own superior authority. She unconsciously placed her left hand upon her right wrist, crossing her arms ever-so-slightly in front of her as she walked. It was a sort of tic of hers, a position she assumed more out of instinct than any notable preference. It was simply a convenient way to occupy her hands without disrupting her otherwise militarily precise posture.

Canon was somewhat relieved to notice that the bizarre sensations she had felt before were fading, somewhat. She'd initially been worried about how Cyrus would take what she had meant simply to be a kind, respectful gesture, since the man in the hall had seemed to think there was some deeper meaning behind it. But, since he hadn't commented on anything, she supposed he had probably just taken it in stride. However, since this had alleviated her strange symptoms, she supposed that it meant that her worry in regards to her commander's reaction had been the cause of her unusual feelings. Reviewing the symptoms once more, she was somewhat confused to note that all of them were signs of the Human condition known as "bashfulness" or "embarrassment." This confounded her, since all data she had been given or had gathered herself indicated that an Operator such as she could not enter such an emotional state. But her elevated heart rate, increased body temperature, excited frame of mind, reddened complexion, and so on and so forth all pointed to the fact that she had been feeling "shy."

Canon had officially found a problem she could not solve. How queer.

As the two of them walked down the long corridors of the Levine stronghold, Cyrus could not help but feel anxious. His first battle in quite a long while. This was going to be exciting. Even though it was supposed to be a training exercise, there was a high chance of it becoming a full on brawl. And because of that, this simple exercise had suddenly turned into a mission of utmost seriousness. If an attack was made against them, then it was an obvious threat against the Levine house which Cyrus had sworn to protect. It was his duty to defend it at all costs. He wasn't about to be taken by surprise by these bastards.

As they continued walking, with Canon at his side but a bit behind him, Cyrus decided that it would be best to calm down. It was never good to fly into the midst of battle with your mind clouded with anxiety and suspicion. It only made you on edge and put you at risk of doing something stupid that would seriously jeopardize the mission at hand. A little small talk might do the trick of calming his excitement.

"Hey, thanks again for breakfast. I don't think I would have been able to manage this exercise without it." Cyrus turned to give Canon a gentle smile. "Oh, by the way, did you have something to eat yet?"

(I was waiting for the others to post, but since it looks like they're not doing so, I'll just throw out another post so as to keep things going.)

"It is not a problem," Canon said matter-of-factly. "It is just one of my duties as your Operator to ensure your personal health and comfort. As for myself, well... that comes later. I was not particularly hungry this morning, in any case." She spoke simply, only the slightest hint of regret in her voice. Truth be told, it had taken her all morning to carefully prepare her partner's meal, and she hadn't been able to manage anything more than a very light snack to sate her own palate as a consequence. She didn't mind, though. She was used to inconveniences much greater than something so trivial as missing a meal. Besides, there was work to be done, which meant she couldn't slack off for an instant just because of a minor hunger issue.

((Very sorry all, back, you should see a lot more of me from here on out))

Cyrus raised his eyebrow at his blonde partner, obviously concerned. She hadn't had anything to eat yet? Her doing things like this really bothered him. Putting his needs above her's wasn't necessary. "Next time, make sure you get something to eat before you go making something for me, okay? I'm really grateful that your thinking about me all the time but please be considerate about yourself for once. I can take care of myself once in awhile.... Really. I don't want a half starving partner who's about ready to fall over by the middle of the day. Even if your not hungry, you need the energy. But thanks again."

As they reached the entrance to the hangar Cyrus grinned playfully. Reaching out, he ruffled her hair lightly with his hand and chuckled. "Alright then, miss Operator. Shall we go?"

(where are the others??)

"Roger, sir. I will make a note of this and endeavor to perform in future according to your wishes. I apologize for not doing so before now, sir!" Canon said formally, giving a salute and a formal apology. Her manner would have been more suited than a correctional hearing of a military tribunal than a casual conversation, but, with someone who had literally been created to have a no-nonsense, by-the-book attitude, and hadn't been given any of the knowledge she needed to act otherwise, this wasn't so much surprising as it was likely somewhat disheartening.

Truth be told, she had only wanted to arrive properly and begin her duties with the utmost effort immediately, rather than making the slightest delay. Because of that desire to not falter in her performance for any reason, she had worked her hardest to prepare that meal, and, while she didn't work for the sake of praise in and of itself, it disappointed her that her effort seemed not to have pleased Cyrus at all. He had said the meal was good, sure, but right now he seemed more annoyed that she'd bothered to make it at all, and the fact that all of her work had only caused her commander disappointment... although it was difficult to notice or identify, and seemed rather distant, Canon couldn't help but feel distinctly crestfallen. That only made her feel worse. The idea that simply not being praised could affect her this much... just what was wrong with her? She had never been worried about being rewarded before. That wasn't her place to contemplate! The only reason she should have done anything was because it was her duty, not because she took pride in it. She had no right to, so why... why was she suddenly craving the attention of her commander? That sort of behavior was improper, and did not befit an Operator such as herself. She was not a Human, and thus had no business acting like one when she should have been in capable of such a farce. Still... despite these self-chastising thoughts, the disappointment and shame lingered.

Her thoughts were disrupted when, as she stared at the floor in an unconscious reverie, something moved out of the corner of her vision. Glancing up, she saw Cyrus' hand descending suddenly upon her head, and instinctively shut her eyes tightly, bracing for an impact that never came. She couldn't help it. The force of habit compelled her to shy away from even her kind commander's touch, the pain that had accompanied disciplinary actions around the time of her creation, when she had been somewhat malfunction-prone thanks to her not-entirely-suppressed emotions. To her slight surprise, no pain came - just a gentle pat on the head, accompanied by a jovial laugh and her hair being ruffled around for the second time that day. It was probably a mess by now, but that was the least of her concerns. At the moment, she only hoped Cyrus hadn't noticed her reaction. She only had become acquainted with him recently, but she had no doubt that if he thought she was scared of him, he would take it as a personal insult.

=Hanz looked at his operator a moment taken back at her apology= Offend? You didn't offend me, I'm just one who doesnt care for formalities like all these other yahoos. Anyway it is good to meet you Bookworm =Hanz says as he extends a hand, not openly saying it but thinking in his head "This one is a bit sensitive."

So why the name?

=he ask her in an attempt to make small talk and not present to the woman a needlessly hostile first impression. He hears the footsteps of two individuals on the way and spotted a comrade of his Cyrus along with a new person in unifrom, a girl with blond hair in uniform, no doubt his own operator.=

Bw was somewhat confused by her Contractor's various expressions. He expressed that he was not offended, but merely didn't care for the saluting. The way he used the term "yahoos" was also not something that she was not familiar with. She began to wonder if it would be wise to read a book on common expressions to make their conversations easier, especially if he usually spoke this way. It was unusual for her to have this much difficulty in a conversation, but perhaps it was because she was used to talking to scientists.

As he offered his hand, she took it firmly and gave three precise shakes while maintaining eye contact. As she dropped his hand, she was pleased that she was familiar with this at least. She thought back to her first awkward attempt at this common gesture. Thankfully, she quickly learned the proper way to shake hands. Hopefully she hadn't been too much of a disappointment to her Contractor. Though they had just met, she had the undesirable feeling of being unprepared.

To his question she replied,"I received the alias 'Bookworm' when the scientist and researchers at my former occupation noticed my preference for reading rather than downloading information when possible and the frequency that I partook in this occupation." After a moment's pause, she added, "What would you prefer I call you, Sir?' she said hesitantly. Just then, she noticed two others enter the hangar, a red-haired male and a blonde female. It was highly probable that they were the other Contractor and Operator. She looked to her own Contractor and followed his lead, hoping not to blunder again.

Cyrus and Cannon's footsteps echoed through the cold hangar area of the Levine stronghold. It was early so only a few pilots and engineers were seen here and there tending to their normal duties. To his right, Cyrus spotted his own titan, the Fidelis undergoing a light maintenance probably before the training exercise. The tall, red and white, titan stood there proudly bearing the crest of the Levine family. Even though Cyrus hadn't gone into battle with it that often, he could already feel an attachment to the large machine that had become his tool for protecting the ones he loved. Just like Canon, the Fidelis was also a "partner" that fought beside him.

Cyrus was about to make his way over to the titan but someone caught his eye. Just ahead of them was a strikingly familiar older looking man. Dressed in an olive drab jumpsuit, the man who was none other than Cyrus' comrade Hanz Zhorne, was standing next to a blue haired woman who was probably his own operator. Cyrus stared in surprise and pointed to the two. "Are they the pilots of the 'Mogura'?", he asked Canon with a wide grin on his face. "I know him!"

Cyrus approached the tall man and held his hand out to greet him. "Hanz! Long time no see! What are you doing here?"

=After Bookworm and Hanz performed a rather quick textbook handshake his head would turn toward the sound of his own name being called. Hanz would then show a side of himself no one else seldomly ever gets to see, one of open hospitality towards someone else as anyone who isnt in his close knit circle is normally closed off from such mannerism. No doubt Cyrus must have gone back some with Hanz during the war as Hanz confronted him also with a smile.=

Holy sack of dog shit, Dont tell me they are letting just anybody pilot these things. How the heck are ya, you pink haired mongrol?

=he says friendily giving him a hard time while shaking his hand, and giving him a shoulder bump followed by a pat on the back=

Just trying to get back on the front lines to pay off some old debts brother, how about you, I'd figure you would be out chasing skirts now,

=Though she was not yet regarded as being within his close circle of friends to where he would display the same mannerisms as Cyrus, Hanz was not above being polite enough to introduce associates. He holds his hand in Bookworms direction for her introduction=

My opperator, 033 Bookworm.

(Hey, guys, made another anime-ish RP recently. If anyone's interested in a high-powered modern fantasy/goofy parody comedy type thread, check out "Colour in My Closet." You can find the link on my profile.)

"Oh? I see," Canon said stoically, watching as her Operator hailed the other pilots, taking the time to regain her composure and breathe a slight sigh of relief. Cyrus hadn't noticed her fearful reaction, which was certainly good. She didn't want to insult him. No, that was most certainly one of the very last things on her list of things to do. Even she was slightly surprised at how important it seemed, however, for the feeling of calm that burst forth inside her at the knowledge her mistake hadn't been noticed was like a flood bursting forth from a dam, driving her consternation before it like chaff on the winds of a gale.

The young Operator raised an eyebrow at the other pilot's rather vulgar greeting. Considering Cyrus was his commanding officer, the amount of profanity in his response was such a breach of formality that it stunned Canon. How could Cyrus be so overjoyed to see this man that he himself would break decorum, when the man returned his cry of recognition with such a string of insulting curses?

"Are you on particularly good terms with this man, sir?" Canon asked under her breath, the slightest hint of what might have been the indignant fire of anger glinting in her eyes, although she kept her rage to a simmering calm, tranquil boil beneath the cool, cold mask she wore. Her gaze darted back and forth, glancing between the still-smiling face of her commander and partner to the cocky, arrogant smirk of the man who had just insulted him. That man... Who did he think he was? She wouldn't tolerate any offenses against her partner's authority, and if this man continued, Canon knew - to her great surprise - that she might just get angry for real. It was a feeling she had almost never felt before, only a vague recollection from the days before she had learned her place. But it was unmistakable. From the very instant this "Hanz" began to speak so condescendingly to Cyrus, she had felt that same sensation once again. Even if Operators had no place in feeling, this urge to protect both her commander and his reputation was one emotion she would not repudiate.

As the two approached, the red-haired male greeted her Contractor. Perhaps they had met each other before? However, from the man's words, Bw inferred that they had not first met here, but at some other time in the past. She immediately began to wonder when that was, how long they had known each other, what the nature and depth of their relationship was, and so on. Before she could complete her musings, however, her train of thought was interupted by Contractor Zhorne spewing obscenities. Her gaze snapped from the approaching pair to his face. He didn't appear to be angry, belying the nature of his words. He continued his odd greeting with the most unusual hand shake Bw had ever seen. Perhaps this relationship was more complicated than she could have anticipated.

She looked to the other Operator to gauge her thoughts on the unusual greeting, but was met with a flash of what could only be anger that was quickly covered by a mask of calm. As Zhorne called him brother, Bw wondered if the man really was or if it was just another expression. These two men look nothing like each other, Bw thought, becoming more baffled. By the reference to chasing skirts, she was completely lost. Were they speaking in some kind of code?

She looked back at the other operator and wondered again about the flash of what she had thought was anger. Were the things her Contractor said offensive? Why could she make no sense out of this? By the time her contractor introduced her, she was completely bewildered. Should she give a hand shake like he had, or was that some sort of special greeting between the two? She offered her hand, ready to do either the special handshake or a normal one, depending on how the red-haired Contractor reacted.