>>3455650
>Head to the Practice Hangars

>>3455650
>>Head to the Academy Plaza

>>3455650
>>'Come on, I need to do my gift shopping.' (Head into the City)

also get some stuff for jannu

>>3455650
I really think we should find frisk so we can tell him we are taking responsibility for his apprentice till Monday/1st day .

>>3455650
>>'Come on, I need to do my gift shopping.' (Head into the City)

File: Are You Sure Of This Decision.jpg (10 KB, 150x210)

10 KB JPG

WARNING: CHOOSING THIS OPTION WILL BRING YOU INTO THE CITY, PROGRESSING THE SCENARIO. ARE YOU SURE?

>Confirm
>[Choose another option]

>>3455677
>Academy Plaza
Need to find all the stuff first.

>>3455677
Just for reference, this means that once you go into the city, there's no going back to the Academy. You're free to do whatever you want in the city, but going back to Academy grounds isn't an option.

>>3455650
>>Head to the Academy Plaza

guess better do this first then

>>3455677
>>Head to the Academy Plaza

File: The Emperor's Hologram is(...).gif (1.53 MB, 800x800)

1.53 MB GIF

The Academy Plaza is as bustling as you’d expected it to be.

A gaggle of activity, with teenagers and young adults walking, talking, sitting or playing whatever suited their fancy … but mostly talking. The fourth-years would be fifth-years come commencement in a precious length of Rhysode weeks, and already the excitement was buzzing around, and the third-years looking to be in their fourth year were excited to be finally allowed access to live combat modules instead of just operation simulations; you remember when you were part of that group. You don’t have to be a genius to guess what the bulk of the conversations are about, though: Mech access. Old as the Hellions are, nine out of ten students entering the plaza on their first day [i[dreamed about riding in those tough old buckets, dominating the battlefield and commanding a Chapter at their backs, leading the Imperium into another era of glory …

You did, at least.

You still do.

Still, the dominating presence of your juniors almost has you feeling out of place. The fifth years were mostly out of uniform, and you can recognize four or five acquaintances up on the steps, chatting excitedly with the younger cadets, who were probably hounding them on their posts. You know Ryosuke did—

‘Hey, give me a sec.’

You let out a sigh as he practically skips away from you … towards a group of third-year females surrounding a recent graduate; an acquaintance that you’d passed by once or twice but hadn’t really interacted with. You do recognize her as one of the top females in Martial Training, however … even if her name eluded you. There’s no need for a diagram to explain just what your friend has on his mind … nor is there anything you can do to dissuade him. You’d tried. All of you had tried.

Maybe there was just something about being raised in the slums on some Industrial World which made getting shot down fifty times in the span of a week bearable.

You wouldn’t know.

‘If there’s something that can keep that wiener down, it probably hasn’t been synthesized yet,’ you comment, watching Ryosuke’s retreating back and the circle of third-years turning their attention to the new arrival. The presence of the graduate probably gave him a berth of two minutes, at best.

You decide not to wait for him.

‘What’s that?’

Rosaria’s voice makes you turn to lift your head to—

‘Gah! Friggin’ graduates!’

It takes all you can not to laugh. It really does.

Especially not at the holographic display of The Emperor doing what could only be described as a dance from your grandfather’s youth, pointing fingers in forty-five degree angles as an awful rendition of a contemporary club hit blared over the atmospheric speakers, littered all over the plaza.

You may not have been part of it, but you couldn’t help but be proud of your fellow cadets.

The sheer audacity of it—

‘Senpai?’

'Every year! Every damn year!'

The technicians surround the display, more than likely making an attempt to clean up the cadets' parting prank.

'Senpai?'

>'Shush.' (Dismissive)
>'That's a holographic display. You don't have those on the Colony Fleet?' (Pompous)
>'Tradition. It's tradition.' (Share with her)
>'Beats me.' (Ignorant)
>Write-In

>>3455726
>>'Tradition. It's tradition.' (Share with her)

>>3455726
>'Tradition. It's tradition.' (Share with her)

>>3455726
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I_izvAbhExY

Ac

>>3455726
>>'Tradition. It's tradition.' (Share with her)
>>3455726

>>3455726
>>'Tradition. It's tradition.' (Share with her)

File: Plaza.jpg (98 KB, 640x480)

98 KB JPG

‘Tradition, Rosaria,’ you explain, smiling as the Emperor turns around and shakes his posterior with the shift in music, much to the dismay of the attending technicians. ‘Tradition.’

‘SON OF A WHORE, THIS IS PRACTICALLY TREASON!’

The smile widens slightly as the technicians throw the external console aside, their frustration reaching a boiling point that you know the perpetrators would definitely have been proud of. It was more than likely that the guilty party wasn’t present, however; after all, there was still a lot of mischief to go about, and with such a short time frame, you doubt that they’d be sticking around for it. The boys and girls of your graduating class had ambition, after all, and with your seniors somehow hijacking the secondary archive and replacing it with low quality pornography (among other things), there was the desire to one-up your predecessors. Getting the Emperor to—in lowborn terms—boogie down may not have been what you would’ve planned (Most because of the fact that you were a Scion and such things were beneath you), but the sheer audacity in humiliating—desecrating—the regal image of the Emperor in his prime shifting dance move to dance move was something that you believed even the Alliance Military would have been proud of.

Which was precisely why you’re thankful that you weren’t involved in it.

The two technicians march off, probably to get another hacking module to crack the code. Another technician sits down by the jumble of wires next to the open panel, tapping away at his personal console in an attempt to get something done.

The Emperor’s image doing hip-thrusts compound the failure.

‘D-Does this happen every cycle?’

You can’t help but chuckle. ‘Yes.’

‘I thought the Imperials … revered the Emperor. Wouldn’t he be very angry if he found out about this?’

He probably would.

You’d never met the Emperor before, but you doubted that he could take a joke. Your father had, of course, having effectively taken over the running of the Trade House from your grandfather’s hands … and the only thing that you’d taken away from your curiosity of the Master of Stars was that he didn’t tolerate nonsense.

As he should.

‘Probably,’ you answer, chuckling. ‘It’s all in good fun, though; the graduating class always leaves their mark before getting shipped off-world. I wonder how they did it, though … hacking into the media grid with a direct line probably took some planning …’

‘Is it centralized or sectored?’

You shrug, unsure. You didn’t care, either way. It wasn’t your job to know.

‘I don’t know.’

‘You didn’t take part?’

You feel a little defensive at the accusation, raising your hands and taking a step back.

‘No, no,’ you insist, shaking your head. ‘I had no involvement in this whatsoever.’

A Scion defacing the Emperor’s image? Your father would murder you in your sleep.

>‘I’m a Scion. If my father even caught scent of me making a crack about the Emperor’s hair, he’d hang me.’ (Reveal yourself)
>‘Come on, let’s get Ryosuke.’ (Check on Ryosuke)
>Check your surroundings for anything else of interest. Friends; rivals; acquaintances; instructors
>Write-In

>>3455781
>‘I’m a Scion. If my father even caught scent of me making a crack about the Emperor’s hair, he’d hang me.’ (Reveal yourself)

>>3455781
>>Check your surroundings for anything else of interest. Friends; rivals; acquaintances; instructors

>>3455781
>>Check your surroundings for anything else of interest. Friends; rivals; acquaintances; instructors

>>3455781
>>‘I’m a Scion. If my father even caught scent of me making a crack about the Emperor’s hair, he’d hang me.’ (Reveal yourself)

>>3455781
>Check your surroundings for anything else of interest. Friends; rivals; acquaintances; instructors

>>3455781
>>Check your surroundings for anything else of interest. Friends; rivals; acquaintances; instructors

>>3455781
>>Check your surroundings for anything else of interest. Friends; rivals; acquaintances; instructors

File: Gerard.jpg (6 KB, 300x168)

6 KB JPG

You look around, searching for more familiar faces. Surely, there were more that had chosen to mingle with their juniors, the hopeful underclassmen who hadn’t quite had their dreams crushed by the stern hand of one Darton Wray’s just yet. You see four second-year boys swooning over what appeared to be a holographic projection of a Mech that you don’t quite recognize, a girl that was sitting cross-legged on the pavement with a tablet in her hands with her blazer tossed aside (Making herself an island in the middle of the wide-open area) and … most curious of all, one of your peers, one Gerard Jetdom, who was … sitting alone. Or rather, he was now. A red-head—in very obvious civilian clothing—had upped and left the bench they were sitting at, the oscillation of her shoulders and the stiffness of her stride telling you that there had been a disagreement of some sort. Gerard, hair black and in the most basic of civilian clothes, throws up his hands as he motions to call after her … only to pull his hand back and allow his head to hang in what you can only assume to be frustration.

You spare the woman another glance, only to find her disappearing behind a crowd.

She definitely wasn’t someone from your year. That red hair and those spiky ends would’ve been burned in your memory.

Whatever.

It wasn’t your business.

Was it?

>Grab Ryosuke and leave
>Approach Gerard
>Ask the girl sitting down to move
>Approach the second-years about the model on display
>Write-In

>>3457371
>>Approach Gerard

>>3457371
>>Approach Gerard

>>3457371
>>Approach Gerard

>>3457371
>>3457373
Addon:
"So our ace got shot down?"

>>3457371
>Approach Gerard

>>3457371
>Approach Gerard

>>3457371
>>Ask the girl sitting down to move

Running in about an hour.

File: Farm Boy.jpg (49 KB, 1024x569)

49 KB JPG

The old you wouldn’t have cared.

The current you doesn’t really have much of a change of opinion, but he doesn’t care for the right reasons.

The old you would have looked at Gerard with a wary eye and not even bothered to talk with him. In comparison, the current you is hesitant to jump in because you didn’t like tampering into personal matters when it came to those that you considered your friends and didn’t want to—

You pause.

That’s right.

Gerard was your friend.

Oddball that he was sometimes, Gerard did meet that qualifier. He was one of the few souls that tolerated your haughty behaviour (And it was haughty, to say the least) and stayed by your side in your tenure as Cadet. You’d suffered together; endured each other’s quirks (and Ryosuke’s) and cultural mismatches; while neither of you had bared your souls to one another (You were—are—too proud and Gerard, low—commoner that he is, had his own way of dealing with things) there is little doubt in your gut that Gerard would take a kinetic round to the gut for you, twice.

Not without hesitation and a snipe about why you weren’t fast enough to dodge, but he would.

And frighteningly, you’d do the same for him.

You’d hold it against him from now to eternity, but you’d do it. He’d never live it down.

‘Thought you’d be back on the farm by now,’ you comment, standing before your seemingly crestfallen friend. He immediately looks up, a shade of irritation cast over his dark eyes. ‘Missed the shuttle?’

‘You saw, huh?’

You smile wryly.

Gerard is your friend, all right.

‘Wasn’t hard to miss,’ you snipe, shrugging as you take a seat on the bench. If your presence was unwelcome, Gerard didn’t protest to it.

As your bottom rests on the artificial—imitation—wood, however, you remember your manners.

‘Right … Gerard, this is Rosaria,’ you introduce, raising a hand and gesturing to your blonde companion, who gives a hurried bow. You’d almost forgotten about her in your casual train of thought; unbecoming of a Scion to forget his charge, regardless of who or what she was. Who she is.

‘P-Pleasure to meet you!’

The sniffing of Gerard’s nose is loud enough to be classified as audible.

‘You’re from a Colony Fleet.’

There it was.

‘I … I am,’ Rosaria replies, hesitant.

Your friend pauses, scratching his chin. ‘Your first time in atmosphere. Maybe—’

‘She knows, Gerard,’ you cut in, rolling her eyes. Spacer or no, you doubted that a girl like Rosaria would be keen on a reminder of her stench. Besides, it wasn’t as bad as the time you’d visited Gerard’s farm.

Although ... comparing a woman to the odour of a farmhouse probably wasn’t gentlemanly, either.

>>3458790
>'So, who was the girl?' (Refocus)
>'You must have some cushy assignment lined up.' (Career)
>'Why aren't you back on the farm? I thought you would've been on the first transport back.' (Personal)
>'I should go.' (I'm Commander Shepard and this is my favourite store on the Citadel)
>Write-In

>>3458799
>>'So, who was the girl?' (Refocus)
i am curious

>>3458799
>>'Why aren't you back on the farm? I thought you would've been on the first transport back.' (Personal)

>>3458799
>'So, who was the girl?' (Refocus)

>>3458799
>>'So, who was the girl?' (Refocus)

>>3458799
>>'So, who was the girl?' (Refocus)

>>3458799
>'So, who was the girl?' (Refocus)

>>3458799
>'You must have some cushy assignment lined up.' (Career)

File: The Girl.png (211 KB, 847x1024)

211 KB PNG

‘So, who was the girl?’

Gerard, much to your amusement, grumbles and buries his face in his hands. He’d probably hoped that you would be side-tracked by the topic of Rosaria … but your curiosity and concern (and desire to needle him) was not to be denied. You stretch your arms overhead, a small smile playing on your lips as the audible sigh reaches your ears. Rosaria glances between the both of you in an uncertain fashion, more than likely tangled in the root of context.

‘Can we just not?’

‘You’re easily the second most popular—’

‘Wait,’ he interjects, ‘who’s first?’

You frown.

‘Reinweld.’

He gives a nod of understanding.

‘Anyway,’ you cough, clearing your throat into a balled fist before continuing, ‘I’ve seen a bunch of girls trailing after you down hallways and the gardens, but you didn’t so much as give one glance. So you’ll forgive me for indulging my curiosity at the one girl who you’d be willing to share a seat, conversation and argument with before stomping away like a jilted lover, resulting my inquisitive self at inquiring just who she is?’

He groans. Dry, winded sarcasm was always your style … and as close as the both of you had become over the years, you were aware that your tendency to spin things longer than they would otherwise be was a slight sour point for him to follow. One that the arrogant noble in you was too keen to exploit, given the opportunity. It was always useful to deploy whenever you felt Gerard was getting too evasive or irritating, and this was one of those times.

Or you were just still inclined a bit of a prick, five years of discipline be damned.

‘Is she from LeBeau?’

Gerard’s hometown. You’d been there once, back in your second year. A few farmsteads, an outpost, a few stores and nothing resembling civilization. Gerard’s parents were pleasant, if a little harsh on your limits. Gerard had been adamant that you keep your identity hidden, and you’d obliged. You weren’t stupid; bragging about being a Scion without a security detail was idiotic. You’d met a few of Gerard’s childhood friends, most of them looking to make their own attempts at local-tier agriculture … and realized that Gerard was a bit of a celebrity out there in the—according to Ryosuke’s terminology—boondocks.

The red-head was definitely not among that gaggle of friends you were introduced to.

‘She is,’ he answers.

He doesn’t follow up. You decide to do it for him, because you were that type of friend.

‘I didn’t see her back then.’

‘Well,’ he hesitates, ‘she … was out of town. She and her parents were trying to make an investment deal at the time, so they were gone for a year to get it sorted. You know, to get the town up and running.'

'Investment deal?'

He sighs. 'You know, get a corporation or a Trade House involved.'

>'Trade Houses and small town investments don't mix.' (Trade House Scion)
>'Nice try. Who's the girl?' (Refocus)
>'I thought your folks liked the town being kept that way.' (Personal)
>Write-In

>>3458967
>>'Nice try. Who's the girl?' (Refocus)

>>3458970
>>'Trade Houses and small town investments don't mix.' (Trade House Scion)

>>3458970
>>'Trade Houses and small town investments don't mix.' (Trade House Scion)
>Prepare to go on a lecture about economics of your station....
>Wait a minute
>'Nice try. Who's the girl?' (Refocus)

>>3458970
>>'I thought your folks liked the town being kept that way.' (Personal)

>>3458970
>'Nice try. Who's the girl?' (Refocus)

>>3458978
The two options don't mix. One delves into the details of being a Trade House Scion proper and how the situation is bad for everyone involved. It's lengthy as Hell. Refocusing says you don't bite into it.

>>3458983
Fair enough
>>3458970
>'Nice try. Who's the girl?' (Refocus)

>>3458970
>'Nice try. Who's the girl?' (Refocus)

‘Nice try,’ you snort, crossing your arms and narrowing your eyes. ‘Who’s the girl?’

He grumbles some more.

It was a nice attempt, trying to hook you on your sensibilities as a Scion and get you to pour out full exposition as to why it would be a bad idea. He knows you well enough to predict that you would’ve jumped right into it, giving figures and references until he’d just up and leave, seemingly invigorated by the wealth of information … and you none the wiser. However, he’d also underestimated that you’d known him long enough to know his tactics of diversion and avoidance; people got used to each other enough to know certain quirks that were exploitable and which ones to steer away from.

You just want to know who the girl was. Maybe it wasn’t what you thought it was like.

Cousin?

An aunt?

A distant uncle’s nephew's cousin's former roommate?

‘She’s my girlfriend,’ he confesses. ‘She was off-world for a year with her parents to try and get a Trade House involved in getting LeBeau up and running proper. After she came back, she was accepted into Rhysode First and … our schedules don’t really align enough for us to meet as we’d like.’

You nod. So it was your first guess.

‘So that’s why you didn’t bother with the others,’ you comment. ‘First time seeing her in a while, huh?’

He shakes his head.

‘I saw her last break and the break before. This is just the first time she’s caught a shuttle to the Academy.’

>'So, what's her name? How'd you meet?' (Curious)
>'She didn't look happy.' (Pry)
>Drop the topic
>Write-In

>>3459080
>'She didn't look happy.' (Pry)
>She was trying to get you to talk to me wasn't she?

>>3459080
>>'She didn't look happy.' (Pry)
>>Write-In
"Shouldnt you be going after her then?"

>>3459080
>'She didn't look happy.' (Pry)

>>3459080
>'She didn't look happy.' (Pry)

>>3459080
>>'So, what's her name? How'd you meet?' (Curious)

>>3459080
>>'She didn't look happy.' (Pry)

>>3459086
>"Shouldnt you be going after her then?"
>80s Power Ballad Plays

>>3459104
So gerard standing outside her dorm holding up a boombox while something 80s plays

>>3459104
I'm ok with a disney song and dance routine

>>3459104
That will lead to the 4 of us (Ryosuke, Maldante, Gerard and us) pushing a broken down car along a deserted road.

‘She didn’t look too happy.’

It’s a little on the nose … but subtlety wasn’t something that you wanted to do when it came to something this personal, especially when it concerned Gerard. You weren’t what you’d categorize as subjects to the perfect friendship, but poking instead of being straightforward with this sort of thing … it was an invitation to disaster. Gerard doesn’t seem receptive to your prying, as expected … but he doesn’t react like he wants to throw you into the lake, either (Not that he could; you had at least a few inches and some pounds of muscle on him).

You pause in your thoughts.

How were you able to pack on the muscle on the farm so much easier than he’d managed in twenty years?

‘She … no, she wasn’t,’ he confesses, sighing and refocusing your attention. ‘Things are just getting complicated. I’ve got my career and she wants to further her studies … and we’re trying to get at least something tangible settled, but our lives haven’t exactly been accommodating. I’ve … well, we’ve talked and talked, but we haven’t been able to get anything … done. I don’t think that we’ve done anything but argue for the last year.’

‘Not your typical couple’s tiff, huh?’

He doesn’t reply.

>‘What’ve you been arguing about, mostly? I know you enough to know that it isn’t trivial.’
>‘It’s probably just some frustration boiling over. Rhysode First’s not easy to get into and harder to stay in.’
>‘Toughen up and just power on. She’ll come around.’
>‘If there’s one thing that’s universal, is that the man always has to apologize at the end.’
>Drop it
>Write-In

>>3459211
Lucion Maldante is a nerd in any universe.

>>3459221
>>‘If there’s one thing that’s universal, is that the man always has to apologize at the end.’

>>3459221
>‘It’s probably just some frustration boiling over. Rhysode First’s not easy to get into and harder to stay in.’

>>3459221
>>‘What’ve you been arguing about, mostly? I know you enough to know that it isn’t trivial.’

>>3459221
>>‘What’ve you been arguing about, mostly? I know you enough to know that it isn’t trivial.’

>>3459221
>‘If there’s one thing that’s universal, is that the man always has to apologize at the end.’

>>3459225
>>3459265
>>3459229
>>3459230
Flipping a coin. Coin flipped.

File: Cuz We're Living In A Wor(...).jpg (22 KB, 512x287)

22 KB JPG

‘So what were you arguing about?’ you question, frowning. ‘I’ve known you long enough to know that it probably isn’t over who gets to decide where to go on the next outing, so …’

Your friend wears a troubled expression, running his hands through his hair before looking upwards.

‘She … wants to get married.’

You stare at him.

That explained quite a bit.

‘Oh.’

‘How sweet!’

You turn to Rosaria, raising a curious eyebrow. Your female companion’s cheeks turn red as she raises her hands, frantically waving them.

‘F-Forgive me,’ she stammers, looking very apologetic. ‘I didn’t mean to interject.’

You turn back to Gerard, whose expression is as solemn as ever.

‘She wants to get married,’ he repeats. ‘My posting isn’t finalized yet. A slot opened and I put my name in for a transfer to a patrol unit for a sector on the Rim. I’m not sure that I’m going to get it, but … they were good enough to give me breathing room on the transfer and I have about six standard weeks until I get out of the system. I told her and … she wanted to get everything official. She started talking about how she wanted to sort out the ceremony, how she was going to get our parents on board and … everything. She wants everything done before my cool-down is up and I … leave.’

You blink, letting out an exasperated, dry show of amusement.

‘Wow,’ you breathe in, raising your gaze towards the busy plaza. ‘All that in one sitting?’

Marriage.

‘No,’ Gerard confesses further, running a hand through his hair again and getting to his feet. ‘She’s … well, she’s been talking about it for at least a year. I … I’ve been bleeping it out for the most part and just went along with it. This was the first time we actually set down and talked about it. I … we went over things again and when I told her about the six-week gap, she just laid everything out for me. Dresses, invites … it was just too much. I don’t want to say no, but she’s moving way too fast for me to keep up. She’s been moving too fast for me to keep up and I have my own damn things to—’

He cuts himself off, sighing.

‘Sorry.’

He sits himself down again.

‘Don’t be,’ you let out, patting your friend on the back. It always seemed to soothe you; perhaps it would do the same for him. ‘It’s something worth ranting about, if nothing else.’

Gerard snorts in sarcastic fashion. ‘Thanks.’

‘So you don’t want to get married,’ you continue, feeling the roof of your mouth go dry as the full weight of the conversation bears upon you. ‘She, however … does want to … get married?’

‘I … I don’t know.’

‘You have to know,’ you insist.

Big mistake on your part.

‘I DON’T KNOW, ALL RIGHT?!’

You stare at his furious features, surprised. He seems to be, too.

‘Sorry,’ he offers meekly, burying his face in his hands again. ‘I … I don’t know if I’m ready for this. I didn’t think I’d be dealing with so much at once.’

Gerard leans back, letting out another sigh.

‘I’m usually more organized than this.’

>‘What’s the issue? You like her, she likes you … tie the knot.’
>‘You usually are, definitely.’
>‘If you’re not ready you’re not ready. Tell her straight.’
>‘This is sounding less like indecision on your part and more palpable doubt.’
>‘Well, good luck.’ (End Conversation)
>Write-In

>>3459311
>>‘You usually are, definitely.’
>>Write-In
"Whats your concern?" Sit down with him there.

>>3459311
>‘You usually are, definitely.’

>>3459311
>>‘You usually are, definitely.’
we must help our brother

>>3459311
>You usually are, definitely.’

‘You usually are, definitely,’ you agree, taking a tone of amusement.

He doesn’t seem to share it.

‘Thanks,’ he returns dryly, placing his hands on his knees. ‘Nice to know that I can always count on you to have my back.’

‘You should know better than to open up to me, too,’ you tease, smirking at your friend. ‘You must be really out of it.’

‘I could do worse,’ Gerard says pointedly, nodding in the direction of a certain acquaintance of yours … that was currently the centre of a very uncomfortable scene that would have given even the most ineligible of bachelors pause. It doesn’t take that much further of a spectacle to agree … although you could do without the girls’ looks of disgust at whatever pick-up line Ryosuke had chosen to deploy. ‘A lot, lot worse.’

‘You could, yeah,’ you concede, letting out a sigh. ‘But who knows? One of these days something might work.’

He raises an eyebrow as he turns his gaze to you.

‘Is that faith I see?’

‘Persistence is a quality in of itself,’ you declare. ‘We’re not talking about him, though. Right now we’re talking about you, so don’t try to wheel this around.’

‘You’re supposed to offer me solutions, not match me with dry wit.’

‘I can’t help it. I’m just that good.’

‘All that effort prying and you fall back on humour. It’ll be a day to see you organizing your father’s desk.’

You sigh. He was right. You weren’t offering any solutions at all.

>‘I hope you end up with something, then. I can’t give you anything.’ (End Conversation)
>‘There’s got to be an actual tangible reason that you’re refusing. Logistics?’
>‘Have you talked to your mother and father about this? Your siblings?’
>‘Just say no if you don’t want to. Don’t lead her on.’
>‘You like her and she likes you. Believe me; it’s a luxury you can afford.’
>Write-In

>>3459340
>>‘Have you talked to your mother and father about this? Your siblings?’

>>3459340
>‘There’s got to be an actual tangible reason that you’re refusing. Logistics?’

>>3459340
>>Write-In
"Well I can't offer advise without knowing what you think. What are you worried about or whats holding you back?"

>>3459340
>>‘Have you talked to your mother and father about this? Your siblings?’

>>3459345
supporting

>>3459345
this

>>3459345
Yeah let's be a nice bro

>>3459340
>>3459345
This, MC seems to be closer to Gerard this time round.

>>3459340
>>‘There’s got to be an actual tangible reason that you’re refusing. Logistics?’

>>3459694
You needed some acclimatization. Gerard offered to bring you to his "rustic" accommodations to watch a spoiled brat flounder around. He ended up making a friend and you ended up losing weight. Farm work does the body good.

>>3459340
I'll back >>3459345

File: Spoiler Image (165 KB, 581x788)

165 KB JPG

‘I’m not willing to offer any advice without knowing what the scope of the issue is,’ you communicate neutrally, raising your hands. ‘If there is, indeed, something that can be done, it’d be more prudent and practical to tell me what specifically bothers you rather than yelling about how everything seems to be tumbling down like a fortress with its support pillars magicked away.’

He throws a small glare your way.

‘It absolutely disgusts me that you’re the most level head in our graduating class.’

‘I can get dirty when I want to and be regal when I have to be,’ you throw back right back, voice as even as you can manage. ‘Right now, I’m being direct.’

‘Fine,’ he harrumphs, falling back against the spine of the bench. ‘She wants to get married and I … don’t think we should.’

You close your eyes, counting back from five. He could be really irritating sometimes.

‘Why don’t you think you should?’

‘Do I look like I’m ready for marriage? Does she?’

An emotional response. That was good.

‘We just … you and I just graduated. She still has a year and a half to go, at least.’ he starts, his voice taking a hysterical quality that you try not to find amusing … until he calms down. ‘And the farm … my parents don’t have the money to afford a wedding! I have six siblings. Six, and my brother just got a scholarship and they have to put a guarantee on it that I have to sign now that I actually have my accreditation and a steady pay-cheque! I tried offering an alternative. That maybe we should wait. That maybe we should be actually sure and she … she just yelled at me! We’ve been together for six years and she yells at me like I’m … like I’ve endured this for six years! I’ve grown up! I’ve learned to compromise and … and all I get is an angry girlfriend that thinks that I have a girl on the side and want to go about gallivanting Imperial space playing the damn … ARGH!’

Your bench gets quite a few stares. The only reason it doesn’t get more is because Ryosuke was in the middle of some bizarre mating dance that had attracted the majority of the plaza’s attention.

You don’t even realize that he had jumped to his feet, somewhere mid-rant.

‘So,’ you offer, a wry smile playing upon your lips. ‘Everything.’

‘Everything,’ he emphasizes, sighing, ‘but … mostly the money and I’m not sure if I’m ready to be a … a father.’

Your shoulders stiffen slightly. ‘You didn’t bring that up.’

‘What? I think I did.’

‘You didn’t mention fatherhood.’

‘Oh … well, we’re not going to see each other for a while, so … she wants to get a head-start. She wants a wedding, a kid and a … house. Before I leave and she gets back to her studies.’

>>3461340
>'Wow.' (Disbelief)
>'Tall order.' (Sympathize)
>'So you've been listening to her go on about this and you didn't shut her down even once?' (Critical)
>'A Trade House would solve your problems, definitely.' (Joke)
>'Well, hope you sort it out.' (Leave)
>Write-In

>>3461343
>'So you've been listening to her go on about this and you didn't shut her down even once?' (Critical)

Lets not pick the joke option.

>>3461344
Yes, please don't. I've written enough cuck jokes to last me a lifetime. Listen to this man.

>>3461343
>>'Tall order.' (Sympathize)

>>3461343
>>Write-In
Did you voice these concerns to her?

>>3461350
He did.

>>3461351
Was it only just now? And then she stormed off?

>>3461344
This

>>3461353
Dunno. Probably. You don't have the whole picture, but he did voice his concerns. How she took it, though, is only seen through her stomping off.

I'm starting to think Kallen (will call her that until we learn her name) was attempting to get him to negotiate her down to getting engaged. She may be looking for some sign of him being truly serious before he leaves.

>>3461343
>>'So you've been listening to her go on about this and you didn't shut her down even once?' (Critical)

File: Gerard 3.jpg (65 KB, 1280x720)

65 KB JPG

‘So you’ve been listening to her go on and on about this … and you didn’t shut her down even once?’

He doesn’t answer.

‘The lack of resistance can be interpreted as reluctance due to one’s own inadequacies rather than one born of actual reason,’ you continue, your upbringing making itself known to your speech patterns again. It always seemed to leak out whenever you went into certain moods; like lecturing your friends seriously. ‘If you pussy-foot on something like this, you’re only allowing the other side to establish their own perception on the subject. If you didn’t tell her outright before, you’ve only made things worse summarizing it all up in one or two sittings. No one’s designed to take their perception being denounced as an illusion in instances.’

Gerard’s gaze is one of irritation.

‘You can really dial it up when you want to, can’t you?’

You snort. ‘Please,’ you huff, ‘the current state of things is as much your fault for perpetuating false belief without drawing the line rather than just hers for misinterpreting your stance. How I say it doesn’t matter as much as the facts of the matter at hand: that you screwed up just as much as she did and you’re worse off because you wanted to keep the status quo.’

He sighs again.

‘I don’t not want to marry her—’

‘Then tell her.’

‘I did!’

You’re unfazed.

Frighteningly, you wonder if looking in a mirror would only have your father’s stern gaze staring back.

‘Then clarify your stance for her,’ you announce insistently. ‘There must be a breakdown in communication if both your intentions are on the same page. I don’t want to make assumptions on assumptions, but it’s likely that she’s just as confused as she’s angry with you.’

‘You’re speaking from experience?’

‘Do you want my advice or not?’

He pauses.

You wait.

‘Fine.’

‘Right,’ you breathe out, sighing. ‘Money’s a hard subject to bring about to the table for … well, I know it’s a hard subject for you, but if she cares for you as much as you say she does she’ll at the very least be willing to talk about it some more. You’re more prideful than you care to admit.’

He shifts uncomfortably.

Being from a family that practically brushed their armpits in wealth, it had taken you some measure of understanding to realize that low—families like Gerard Jetdom’s didn’t quite share the same sentiment. While not what you’d call destitute, Gerard’s family lived on the mercy of local economics … and the winds shifted often enough for you to understand the concern. His parents were nice enough people, but valuation was fickle and crop strands even more so.

File: Angry Girlfriend.jpg (21 KB, 337x236)

21 KB JPG

A wedding? The family had a lease on their atmosphere domes and Gerard had six other siblings. Having your basic needs on the whim of domestic economy didn’t leave a lot of room to afford luxuries … and a wedding certainly was a luxury.

‘You’ll be able to safely afford it if you tell her to wait five standard years down the road,’ you offer, pondering on the subject a little more. ‘That is, if you somehow get into an administrative position … on the Rim, but, well, I don’t think that you’d like being shoved into a dead end like that.’

Gerard sighs again.

‘Maybe I should,’ he grumbles. ‘Maybe it’s just not meant to be.’

You shrug.

‘Well, there’s the off-chance that you get scouted by a Chapter, but … what’re the odds of that happening?’

‘Maybe you’ll make Knight-Commander and give me a promotion.’

The both of you stare each other … and burst into laughter. Maybe he could consider a side job as a comedian.

>‘In any case, even if you can’t come to a decision, the best thing to do would be to at least make things clear.’
>‘I’d offer you some help on that side, but … I know you’d never ask me for it.’
>‘Cruel as it is to say, I think it’s best that you just break it off with her.’
>‘Stupid question, but have you talked about this with anyone else? Like Sansa?’
>‘Well, hope you solve it.’ (Drop it, Leave)
>Write-In

>>3461398
>>‘In any case, even if you can’t come to a decision, the best thing to do would be to at least make things clear.’
weddings are expensive

>>3461398
>>Write-In
"Tell you what. IF and if you really want to go through with this and marry her. I'll foot the bill upfront. Now don't give that look, I know you hate charity... but think of it as a interest free loan if you really want. Take your time to pay it back whenever.

My only fee is that you let me plan your stag night~"

>>3461404
This is very out of character, if I'm being honest. It needs to be worded better. You're still a little new to this "nice guy" business.

>>3461398
>She might also be looking for proof of a promise that you want to be with her in the long term rather than the full wedding, house and baby. An Engagement Ring may suffice.

>>3461406
So more haughty, slightly assholy?

>>3461410
Maybe more low interest loan to be paid off over several years?

>>3461410
You know him well enough to know that he won't take it. Pride and all that. At the same time, you also have a hard time trying to push that you're willing to help should he ask you for it. He comes from a farm, so he kinda expects paying things back in full. The classical farmboy anti-hero.

>>3461398
>>3461404
>>Write-In
"How about I foot the bill for the wedding. It's not a problem for me."

Blunt heavy handed wielding of the I HAVE MONEY hammer. Wants to help but not considering the other party's reaction to this, like abit of a diss. The rest of that other post might come up after he reacts to that.

>>3461398
>>‘Stupid question, but have you talked about this with anyone else? Like Sansa?’
We will need a female perspective on this too.

Rolled 2 (1d4)

>>3461403
>>3461408
>>3461423
>>3461426
Let's see who the Gods favor.

>>3461398
>>‘Stupid question, but have you talked about this with anyone else? Like Sansa?’

>>‘In any case, even if you can’t come to a decision, the best thing to do would be to at least make things clear.’

>>3461431
>>3461430
ah missed it

File: Frump.jpg (152 KB, 850x1185)

152 KB JPG

‘Maybe what she’s looking for is assurance.’

‘Assurance?’

‘Maybe everything else is secondary,’ you offer, trying to lay things out as calmly as you can manage. You weren’t good with people on the whole, but when it came to women … well, one couldn’t help but be that little bit more cautious. ‘The wedding, kids, a house … maybe what she wants is assurance that you’re on board with her. That her side is the one that you’re on. I’m not the type to jump into things without at least some basis, so you’d better take that with some trepidation, but … considering that you’re going to be heading into a great unknown, you can’t fault her for trying to tie you down in however way she conceives is best.’

Now you were sounding like your mother.

You truly are their son, for better or worse.

‘You really think so?’

You’re surprised that he’s so open to it. Even when it is so very much still in the grey for you.

‘I don’t,’ you backtrack. You’re more irritated with yourself for it. ‘Thing is, if she’s willing to go into this line of thought, all these grand ideas … I can at least put down that she’s either in love with the idea of being with you, actually madly in love with you despite the existence of cheap cardboard or … trying ascertain whether or not you’re willing to take that plunge as she is.’

Gerard considers you with a quizzical stare, his brows wrinkling deeper than you’d seen over the course of this conversation.

‘What was that about cheap cardboard?’

You sigh into the palms of your hand.

‘Look,’ you stress, bringing him back to attention. Sometimes you wondered how he was one of the top scorers in Mech Practicals and Simulations. ‘You care for her. Am I correct or am I off the mark here?’

‘Of course I do,’ he retorts, albeit not without a tinge of confusion in his voice.

‘Do you consider her someone you’re willing to spend the next century next to?’

He pauses.

‘Gerard.’

‘A century’s a long—’

‘Then do you trust her with your life?’ you re-word your previous statement. Perhaps you’d come a little too strong—

‘Yes.’

You blink. That was quite direct.

‘Then tell her,’ you emphasize, gesturing with an open palm. ‘Apologize for whatever it is you think was miscommunicated and underline that your feelings about her don’t change. Be honest with her. If you can’t be honest with her now … well, then I have to tell you to just break it off. Being on the same page counts. You compromise on this now, you’re not ready and you shouldn’t lead the poor girl on. There; I said it. That’s my piece.’

Maybe your countenance hadn’t quite developed yet. You’d lost your cool in that half-rant … but you don’t think it was without justification. You don’t think so. Shooting in the dark was something that you’d been reluctant to do for all your life. Born into a Trade House, methodology and circumstance played into the context of actions … and giving a friend relationship advice based on your non-existent love life was the prime example of reckless behaviour.

You’re not even sure that you’re right.

But you do know, at the very least, buttering a girl up would lessen the blow.

You hope.

‘So … honesty, huh?’

You hesitate to answer.

‘Well, among other things,’ you confess, reeling slightly as the weight of your words falls upon you once more. Reckless; you were definitely being a little reckless here. ‘Your first priority’s to de-escalate the situation. It doesn’t matter if you’re at fault or not, the first thing to do is keep things from getting worse. Contain the problem and try to get a better read on the situation … and manoeuvre for a solution with as little collateral as you can manage. It’s urban warfare, all over again.’

The both of you crack a smile. Darton Wray would probably be proud that you’d connected women and Mech combat under one banner.

‘I’ll … try it.’

You nod.

‘Thanks.’

You give a dismissive wave. That’s what friends were for.

‘So … you seen Emilio?’

>‘I don’t care to.’ (Bad Blood)
>‘No.’ (Dismissive)
>‘Last time I talked to him was … about seventy-eight hours ago. We talked.’ (Concede)
>‘None of your business.’ (Irritated, Storm Away)
>Write-In

>>3461447
>‘Last time I talked to him was … about seventy-eight hours ago. We talked.’ (Concede)

>>3461447
>>‘Last time I talked to him was … about seventy-eight hours ago. We talked.’ (Concede)

>>3461447
>>‘Last time I talked to him was … about seventy-eight hours ago. We talked.’ (Concede)

>>3461447
>‘I don’t care to.’ (Bad Blood)

>>3461447
>>‘Last time I talked to him was … about seventy-eight hours ago. We talked.’ (Concede)
Wonder if after that little speech there does Rosaria think that MC-senpai is a kind of cool.

>>3461447
>>‘Last time I talked to him was … about seventy-eight hours ago. We talked.’ (Concede)

>>3461447
>>‘Last time I talked to him was … about seventy-eight hours ago. We talked.’ (Concede)

>>3461447
>>‘Last time I talked to him was … about seventy-eight hours ago. We talked.’ (Concede)

>>3461447
>‘I don’t care to.’ (Bad Blood)

As odd as this sounds, I'm kinda busy looking for my grandfather's pants, so no session today.

>>3464213
best of luck in the search

>>3464213
Haha good luck dude

>>3464213
He left them at my house

Hey guys, feeling good enough to run, so I'll run in an hour.

File: You're All Plebs.jpg (118 KB, 588x960)

118 KB JPG

You didn’t dislike Emilio.

However, just as you didn’t dislike Specialist Cindon, you didn’t like him either. The common ground that should’ve been built on the bridge of your backgrounds as Trade House Scions had turned into a metaphorical no man’s land within weeks of your first encounter (Your attitude probably not helping things there, either) and lingered for the following years … and not just because of your backgrounds as opposing entities.

He is a Scion of Trade House Reinweld, just as you are one of Trade House Mishima.

You wish that the tension could be explained with that one sentence.

‘Last time I talked to him was …’ you trail off, your brain making an attempt at recalling the time of day you’d talked to him last. It was a passing conversation, barely lasting more than four coherent sentences and the corridor to the third-year buildings; something about record updates and pass requirements. ‘Seventy-eight hours ago.’

Gerard didn’t look convinced by your statement.

‘We talked,’ you insist.

Your friend sighs, slightly offending you. You weren’t the one perpetuating the situation.

‘I know that he can be a real pain in the neck to you sometimes,’ Gerard begins in a slow, deliberate drawl, ‘but Emilio—’

‘He’s got his issues, I know,’ you grumble, running a hand through your hair, ‘and the best thing for me to do is just ignore it. It’s easy for you to—’

‘Senpai?’

You turn around.

You’d almost forgotten about your charge.

‘I’m sorry for interrupting your conversation,’ Rosaria starts apologetically, adopting a slightly regretful expression, ‘but I-I couldn’t help but overhear that … would this Emilio that you’re speaking of happen to be—and again, I’m sorry for butting right in—could you be talking about Emilio Reinweld … heir to the—’

‘Scion,’ you correct her, taking an insistent tone. There was a marked difference in the terminology of the two terms in the context of Trade Houses. An heir inherited the assets. A Scion of a Trade House inherited the name, duty and commanded the loyalty of the ultracorp entities that bent the knee to the Houses.

Your father is a Scion.

Your uncles are heirs.

‘Scion,’ she corrects herself, her voice sounding more excited by the inflection, ‘Scion … so he is, then? You are talking—w-wait, you know him?’

Unfortunately.

‘Yes,’ you answer, sounding more curt than you intended to be. ‘He’s a fellow graduate.’

She gasps. Not quite so vocally or that exaggerated in motion, but the surprise is there.

‘So you’re friends?’

You almost groan.

>>3475099
>'No.' (Adamant)
>'It's complicated. On account, of course, of him being an utter asshole.' (Evasive)
>'It'd be hard to call him an enemy or an acquaintance, so I guess that would be an accurate call.' (Concede)
>Write-In

>>3475104
>>'It's complicated. On account, of course, of him being an utter asshole.' (Evasive)
frenemies ho

>>3475104
>>'It'd be hard to call him an enemy or an acquaintance, so I guess that would be an accurate call.' (Concede)

>>3475110
>SASUKEEEEE
>NARUTOOOO
>COPYRIGHT STRIKUUUU

>>3475104
>'It'd be hard to call him an enemy or an acquaintance, so I guess that would be an accurate call.' (Concede)

>>3475104
>A future business relation.

>>3475104
>Write-In
“N,no. Why would i want to be friends with that creature. Hmph.”

File: MY ANGST IS BEAUTIFUL.jpg (28 KB, 352x550)

28 KB JPG

It’s not like you had an easier time allowing Gerard to go by that title … but even if you didn’t opaquely favour him, you couldn’t deny that you mingled in the same circles enough to constitute yourselves as more than acquaintances. While neither of you got along as well as the others would like, you were able to share a few conversations over the span of a week without having to endure the loathing of his lineage (and yours) or your own remarks on his incredibly pubescent behaviour.

So yes.

Loath as you are to admit it, you are friends.

‘It’d be hard call him an enemy or an acquaintance … so I guess that would be an accurate call.’

‘How do you know him, Rosaria?’ Gerard asks, leaning forward.

She adopts an enigmatic look, a half smile playing on her lips.

‘Oh, there was a … feature on the Reinweld Conglomerate a few years ago,’ she explains, sounding a little hesitant. ‘The Colony Fleet didn’t really linger in any particular systems long enough for us to be able to hook any transmission streams consistently, but one of the things that I followed was a series on Trade House histories. It was mostly interviews and archive footage, but then the segment on the … Scions came up and there was this episode that featured Emilio Reinweld. He was pretty popular with the girls on the fleet.’

You wrinkle your nose.

Good-for-nothing pretty boy probably slurred the words.

‘I’ll bet,’ Gerard replies, smirking … at you.

Actually, you take everything about Gerard back. He was not your friend.

‘So you came all the way Rhysode because of—’

‘No, no, no, not at all,’ Rosaria hurriedly denies, her cheeks pink. ‘N-Not that I didn’t think he was handsome’—you feel like jumping into the lake just to cleanse yourself of this conversation—‘of course, but … well, I came here to take my apprenticeship. I just find it so fortunate that I could meet with people who actually … know him! He must be quite a wonder to be around!’

You grunt uncomfortably.

Perhaps when you finished your acclimatization to your role as a military man, you could make the jump into one of your father’s projects to invest in sharp pointy objects that dulled the human capacity to gravitate towards Emilio Reinweld. It’s not like your family didn’t have trillions in PSYCOM projects already, anyway.

‘He is something,’ Gerard returns, smiling. ‘Great pilot, too. Think he finished fourth on the counts.’

You have a retort for that.

You’re just too nice for it now, galaxy damn him.

‘It must be so overwhelming for you,’ Rosaria engages further, leaning forward and meeting Gerard’s gaze, then yours.

‘Huh?’

‘To be in the presence of a Trade House Scion … I can’t imagine it!’

Gerard’s eyes close as he wears a cat-like smile, looking at you.

‘Yeah, it does sometimes, doesn’t it, Senpai?’

>'Not really, no.' (Indifferent)
>'Oh, definitely. It's like being around a farm boy who can't lift more than two bags of produce at a time.' (Sarcasm)
>Reveal yourself
>End conversation
>Write-In

>>3475227
>Shouldn't be to hard... Does the name Mishima mean anything to you?
>Reveal yourself

>>3475229
>>'Not really, no.' (Indifferent)

>>3475229
>>'Oh, definitely. It's like being around a farm boy who can't lift more than two bags of produce at a time.' (Sarcasm)
hit him where it hurts, 2 can play this game

>>3475229
>'Oh, definitely. It's like being around a farm boy who can't lift more than two bags of produce at a time.' (Sarcasm)
Biggest grin we can muster

>>3475236
>>3475243
I should have made this a snipe about his height since Gerard suffers from 5'11" vs 6'0" syndrome.

>>3475255
oof, i know that pain. just one inch God, thats all i need

‘Oh, definitely. It’s like being a farm boy who can’t lift more than two bags at a time.’

His smirk disappears.

‘Jerk,’ he hisses.

‘Weakling.’

He kicks you.

You kick him back.

‘What does that have to do with anything?’

Rosaria’s words break the fight.

‘Oh, nothing,’ you answer smoothly, snorting, ‘just a little joke.’

‘Speaking of jokes,’ Gerard hurriedly follows up, ‘Sansa’s been having a field day playing damage control for our year’s prank runs. I think they reversed the repurposing mains or something this morning. Downtown’s been flooded with half-processed refuse pouring out from the systems.’

You wince.

‘How’d they manage that?’

‘Probably the same way they—’

You hear a cry of frustration as the ambient music of the modified Emperor’s hologram changes into a more feudal arrangement … as does the Emperor’s likeness, who sports what looks like a tall black hat belonging to some backwards Rim World instead of his Blood Crown, dropping into a squat to do rapid swings forward with his feet in time with the new music. The gathered underclassmen avert their eyes or cover their mouths to hide their amusement, while the technicians and specialists hurriedly make another attempt to do away with the embarrassing sight. One of the technicians—the one you recognize to have cried out in frustration—dives for his tool case, pulling out what you understand to be a wrench, smacking it against the plugged console. By the sixth whack, however, his colleagues had decided enough was enough … and began wrestling the impromptu weapon out of his hands. You see one of the other technicians on his knees, face in his hands, defeated.

The Emperor continues to dance, thick and badly-dubbed laughter bellowing from the sound system with every motion of his mouth. A symbol of victory for Rhysode’s most recent graduating class.

‘Probably the same way they managed that, I presume.’

You give a knowing nod.

‘Why did she even volunteer to be one of the committee members?’ you question, frowning. For someone of her careful nature, over-stacking a plate wasn’t one of the things you’d thought she’d do. Being in-training to be a Medical Officer, of all things should have warned her off any and all distractions.

Especially since she was the only one who wasn’t fully graduating with the rest of the gang.

‘You know Sansa,’ Gerard replies, shrugging. ‘She feels like she needs to be the one—’

‘The one keeping things sane,’ you finish for him. ‘She’s going to be sniffing gene-enhanced, orbital cocoa one of these days.’

Gerard nods in agreement, chuckling.

‘So.’

You feel a twitch in the corner of your mouth.

‘So.’

>'Well, I'll see you tonight, then.' (Leave)
>'Do you have information on your posting?'
>'How's the family?'
>'So about your girlfriend again ...'
>Write-In

>>3475309
>'Do you have information on your posting?'

>>3475309
>>'Do you have information on your posting?'

>>3475309
>'Do you have information on your posting?'

>>3475309
>>'Do you have information on your posting?'

>>3475309
>>'Do you have information on your posting?'

>>3475309
>'Do you have information on your posting?'

>>3475309
>>'Do you have information on your posting?'

>>3475309
>>'Do you have information on your posting?'

I'll be running in about 40 minutes.

‘Do you have any information on what you’re assigned to?’

‘I already told you that I asked for a transfer,’ Gerard answers, frowning.

You roll your eyes.

‘I didn’t ask where you’re going. I’m asking you what post they decided to slot you in.’

Pilot.

You’re more than certain he made the grade. Gerard was one of the more formidable combatants that you’d seen in a simulator or a Hellion. While Wray could probably mop the floor with him with no ammunition packs and a blunt axe, you didn’t see Gerard having any trouble jumping on a Frontier-assigned Numbered Squadron on his first gig, playing clean-up all the way to a Commissar’s recommendation for a promotion to a Chapter and making his family proud—

‘Survey Corps,’ he sighs.

Disbelief begins to overtake you.

The Survey Corps?

>‘Oh man … you’re a nerd now.’ (Tease)
>‘I got logistics.’ (Sympathize)
>‘At least you’ll be making a better future …’ (KNOWLEDGE)
>Write-In

>>3477372
>‘At least you’ll be making a better future …’ (KNOWLEDGE)

>>3477372
>>‘At least you’ll be making a better future …’ (KNOWLEDGE)

>>3477372
>>‘At least you’ll be making a better future …’ (KNOWLEDGE)

>>3477372
>>‘At least you’ll be making a better future …’ (KNOWLEDGE)

File: Agri-World.jpg (14 KB, 243x241)

14 KB JPG

‘At least you’re making a better future.’

Part of you uses that as a platform to lift his spirits.

Another part of you believes it as a pure truth.

Scouting realms, potential systems for the expansion of the Empire, to be homes to Imperial settlers in generations to come wasn’t as glorious a calling as leaping into the heat of battle as the beating heart of a giant of metal and war, but it served a noble purpose, nonetheless. Surveying moons and planets for potential settlement was a delicate matter; one that the Empire employed every possible branch and agent in order to achieve. Scientists, soldiers, consultants … everyone had to play their part. Systems, at best, had three potential habitats for prospective settlers, but to even get up to that number, it took decades of study and testing to lay the groundwork of a potential mark for Imperial dwelling.

At the current rate of things, there was no pressing need for expansion. Many worlds under the Imperial banner had populations that hadn’t even broken eight digits on the count … but that was probably more due to the fact that many surveyed systems had finally come to term in the last century. Checking the polarity of the worlds, the properties of the soil, the reactionary possibilities of any chemical imbalance introduced and what sort of genome was best suited for the composition and keeping opportunistic raiders and their ilk away.

A post where you’d never see the end result in your lifetime, but that you knew sowed hope for a tomorrow.

‘Well, at least it’s easy to justify a transfer on,’ he grumbles, running a hand through his hair. ‘I’m going to have to start picking up a few data slates on seeding.’

You snort.

‘You’re not gonna be the one doing the hard work,’ you throw back. ‘You can’t even lift a bag of A—’

He glares at you.

You flex your bicep.

If nothing else, the last five years had pushed your stock up considerably.

Even if all your friends could effectively stomp you on the mat if they so wished, Sansa included.

‘Look,’ you refocus him before he tackled you to the ground and showed just how little your muscles meant against his ruthlessness and ferocity, continuing, ‘it’s not dishonourable work that you’ve been assigned to. It’s … unexpected, but you’re not going to have people making fun at you for giving birth to habitable worlds.’

‘Ones I’ll never see in my lifetime.’

You shrug.

‘It’s not bad work, is what I’m saying.’

He gives a small smile.

‘And what about you?’

You snort in displeasure.

‘Logistics,’ you declare, almost spitting the word out.

Gerard cocks an eyebrow. ‘Well … my mom did say you were good at lifting things.’

You glare at your friend, unamused.

>>3477445
>End the conversation
>'How's your family?'
>'So, about your girlfriend again ...'
>Write-In

>>3477446
>'How's your family?'

>>3477445
>>'How's your family?'

>>3477445
>'How's your family?'

>>3477446
>'How's your family?'
after that we do need to find out our Gerard's girlfriends name.

>>3477446
>>'How's your family?'

File: Appropriate Pic.jpg (39 KB, 473x340)

39 KB JPG

Sighing, you turn your head away. This wasn’t the time to be petty.

‘So, how’s the family?’

It’s a passing question, almost automatic in its execution and impersonal, despite the nature of the query. It’s what halls of false smiles and fancy suits used to break the ice and cut from deeper on-goings of the universe … and it’s the only thing that you can think of now that didn’t relate to your immediate future as a glorified warehouse minder. Gerard, to his credit, takes the question to its word, adopting a look of thought and amusement, running a hand through his hair as he allows a sigh to escape his barely parted lips. One that sounded of fond, however, rather than one of exasperation.

‘Mom and dad are still on a high,’ he starts, linking his fingers together, ‘you know, what with my brother getting into University. They gotta sort that out.’

You nod.

‘This is your … younger brother, right? Gaston?’

‘Gilford,’ he corrects you, frowning. ‘Where’d you even get Gaston?’

‘You have six siblings,’ you counter, repeating the same argument he’d tossed up not too long ago. ‘You’ll forgive me for not being able to commit all of them to memory.’

‘Gilford, Irwin, Lottie, Prena, Keiki and Luna.’

‘I remember Keiki and Luna,’ you recall, nodding. ‘They’re the ones who broke my …’

Gerard’s cheeks turn pink. He’d always felt bad about that.

As a Scion, you had access to some things that many of the typical Imperial populace didn’t even have the privilege to set their eyes upon. Your family had often been given tribute in the form of commercial prototypes before they made their rounds around the market, and your father, absent as he was, had often heaped you with these products. It is a privilege that you thoroughly enjoyed, even if you did get tired of them within a standard week or two (A tendency that Emilio had pointed out time and time again whenever he felt you were being too unbearable for him). Inter-system communicators, gaming consoles and health augmentations; by the time they’d made their market debut, they were already old for you.

So it was to the enjoyment of two then-four year olds that they’d found a certain second prototype of a portable game console that hadn’t made Rhysode’s skies (and would not) on the bed of a door that really should have been locked, playing with it for hours and … breaking it.

The both of you became pre-occupied covering up how you were in possession of something so expensive (by their standards) and had promised to reimburse you however they could.

But you …

‘You know, I’m surprised you held your temper in so well,’ he reveals. ‘Considering how big of a dick you were, I thought I’d be begging on the streets by now.’

>>3482493
>‘I was prideful. There’s a difference.’ (Haughty)
>‘You were my host. I’d be violating my family’s teachings throwing a tantrum.’ (Honourable)
>‘I’m still annoyed about that, by the way.’ (Irritated)
>‘I can claim it now, if you wish?’ (Joke)
>Don’t reply
>Write-In

>>3482497
>‘You were my host. I’d be violating my family’s teachings throwing a tantrum.’ (Honourable)

>>3482497
>>‘You were my host. I’d be violating my family’s teachings throwing a tantrum.’ (Honourable)

>>3482497
>>‘You were my host. I’d be violating my family’s teachings throwing a tantrum.’ (Honourable)

>>3482497
>‘I was prideful. There’s a difference.’ (Haughty)

>>3482497
>>‘You were my host. I’d be violating my family’s teachings throwing a tantrum.’ (Honourable)

>>3482497
>>‘You were my host. I’d be violating my family’s teachings throwing a tantrum.’ (Honourable)
>Plus I got it for free and if it broke that easily it wasn't going to be a good system anyways. Not something to even get more than slightly annoyed about.

>>3482497
>>‘I can claim it now, if you wish?’ (Joke)

You close your eyes, letting out a breath.

‘You were my host and I was your guest,’ you let out simply, as if reciting the alphabet. ‘I’d be breaking more than a few tenets throwing a tantrum.’

Gerard gives a small smile as a sound of acknowledgement rumbles from his throat.

‘I appreciate it, anyway.’

A silence reigns over the both of you. Even Rosaria doesn’t interject, a glance from out of the corner of your eye telling you that she’d adopted a more observational stance on the conversation. Her bangs in her eyes, her gaze to the ground … you almost feel bad for having her be your own personal third wheel. She probably couldn’t even make heads or tails of—

‘Senpai?’

It takes you a moment to notice that she’s referring to Gerard, instead of you.

‘Yes?’

Smooth.

No wonder the underclassmen were stalking him around corners.

‘Is this your home world?’

‘Yeah,’ Gerard answers, a little more enthusiastically than you expect him to be. ‘LeBeau born and raised.’

‘LeBeau?’

‘Small community way out north-east,’ he explains further, his voice taking a more excitable turn, albeit not by much. ‘Not a lot out of there. School, town hall, adaptation fields, augmentation lots and some comm units, one shopping centre that goes through a cycle a decade with shelves emptier than the live round ammo racks on a weekend, loud neighbours who can’t turn the tractor AI off on a timetable to save their lives and the smell of cow manure wafting into your room because you live on the one damn planet with a consistent wind that happens to hit your window at right angles.’

You wince.

You’d shared rooms. It wasn’t a pleasant experience at all.

‘Oh, I’ve never seen a cow before.’

‘Strand VKDE-456009,’ Gerard lets out, exasperated. You recognize the designation as the particular cow that the Jetdoms reared; you only know it, though, due to having to sit down with Keiki and Luna in one of their more excitable sessions and going through a whole manual on the genetic make-up of Imperium-approved offshoots.

Those weren’t for four year-olds. Definitely not.

‘We’ve got a lot of them on the farm. Keiki and Luna love riding them.’

You groan as he trails off, remembering the earful Gerard had received from his mother for his “neglect” of his baby sisters in “allowing” them to sneak off for a ride … that stopped just short of the red hills on the outskirts. It wasn’t as if he’d done it on purpose. The both of you were tending to the processing units for the grain when they’d decided to gallivant wherever they’d intended to take the poor cow.

‘I wish I could go see it,’ Rosaria declares excitably. ‘I’ve never been to a farm before!’

'I'm going to be here for a few more months,' Gerard goes on, smiling. 'Maybe I can show you around?'

>'Don't you have enough girl problems right now?' (Tell him it's not a good idea)
>'That's not a bad idea.' (Encourage it)
>Write-In

>>3488053
>'That's not a bad idea.' (Encourage it)

>>3488060
>>'Don't you have enough girl problems right now?' (Tell him it's not a good idea)

>>3488060
>>'Don't you have enough girl problems right now?' (Tell him it's not a good idea)

>>3488060
>>'Don't you have enough girl problems right now?' (Tell him it's not a good idea)

File: Be Seeing You.gif (999 KB, 268x360)

999 KB GIF

You sigh, rolling your eyes.

‘Don’t you have enough girl problems right now?’

‘Huh?’

You roll your eyes, letting out a sigh. This was why you’d doubted Gerard’s capacity for being the functional half of a relationship in the five years you’d known him. You don’t even know how he’d stumbled into this current one, but that was neither here nor there. Not twenty minutes ago, a red-head that you’d discovered that he’d been on the verge of donning a ring on with dreams of an exchange of vows had marched away with fire in her eyes and a rocks in her hands … and he thought that bringing another girl over in the midst of this volatile situation was anything resembling a good idea?

You are a virgin whose most vivid memory of affection from the opposite gender is your bastard uncle’s wife giving you a sloppy peck on the cheek during a dinner function six years ago. That is all you have to your name and even you could tell that the idea of Rosaria prancing around his homestead would only be an invitation for the drums to be lit. As a man—as his friend—you couldn’t let it happen.

Oh, you’d gladly watch him crash and burn of his own accord, but there were standards to adhere to in the art of walking into walls … and if nothing else, you believed in the Bro Code Eternal.

You sigh.

The commoners were really rubbing off on you more than you would’ve liked.

‘You know, I’m the last person in this system who should be even whispering about this,’ you grumble, ‘but can you imagine how that very angry red-head would feel discovering another woman who she’s never met before suddenly jumping into her life in the middle of what she sees as an already extremely trying and stressful saga of her romance with you?’

‘I don’t—’

‘And can you imagine her—imagine any woman—being anywhere near sanity and cohesiveness after an argument about the state of her relationship? Anywhere at all?’

At the very least, he has the decency to be embarrassed. You know you would be.

‘No.’

His voice is barely more than a squeak.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—’

You turn to Rosaria, raising a hand. ‘No, it’s not your fault,’ you let out coolly. ‘Some people here just can’t read situations just as well as they should.’

He grunts, getting to his feet before glaring down at you. You throw up a satisfied smirk, unmoving in your stance.

‘You know,’ he starts, ‘Fisher and Sansa are really rubbing off on you.’

You don’t even dignify that with an answer.

‘I’ll see you tonight, then?’

>>3488113
>‘Wouldn’t miss it.’ (Say your goodbyes for now)
>‘Before you go …’ (Ask something else)
>Write-In

>>3488115
>>‘Wouldn’t miss it.’ (Say your goodbyes for now)
>>Write-In
Brofist. Hes a dumbass hick but hes OUR dumbass hick.

>>3488115
>‘Before you go …’ (Ask something else)
>'...what is your red head's name?'

>>3488113
>>3488118
This

Then brofist and leave

>>3488118
this, we need her name damn it

Something hits you just as he raises himself from the chair. An important detail that you’d overlooked, minute as it was.

‘Wait, hang on. Before I forget … what’s her name?’

He blinks, seemingly confused.

‘Your girlfriend,’ you clarify, rolling your eyes. ‘She does have a name, right?’

‘Jodie.’

You nod. It’s enough.

You exchange swift goodbyes. Rosaria shakes his hand and gives a small bow of respect; one that he doesn’t bother to return, instead raising a casual salute before breaking into a light jog, more than likely beginning the long trek of apologies and clarifications that he had to start with that fiery Miss Jodie. You don’t envy Gerard. While you’d had your fair share of eyefuls, the female persuasion was generally one that you hoped to return to in that particular context when you had at least some measure of tolerance and gumption.

Sansa and Fisher were great teachers in that sense. Both kept you on your toes and you were on edge in the thirty-odd hours of the Rhysode day trying to guess what they were moving for. At the rate you were going, you’d probably meet your quota by the time you hit twenty-eight on the standard calendar. You hope that by then, you weren’t too late to make up for your family’s (sans your father) disappointment in you in that particular aspect of being the Mishima Scion.

You doubted anyone could understand women.

Unlike other men, however, you at least have the sense to not dive into a hot zone without considerable intel.

‘Was that Gerard?’

You almost smile as Ryosuke’s voice.

His time was impeccable.

‘Yeah,’ you answer, nodding and lifting your bag off the ground. ‘So, how’d your—ah.’

As you eye your returning comrade, you make out a slightly cut lip, a popped collar and untucked shirt to go along with stray bundles of thread jutting out from the seams of his shirt. His blue hair is messier than usual; his knees have what you guess to be a mix of grass stains and dirt while the buckle of his belt looked much more … worn compared to before.

By Ryosuke’s standards, though … it looked like a good day.

‘What’d you do this time?’

Ryosuke turns a little pink as Rosaria began to fret over his unkempt state, rubbing the back of his neck.

‘Well … turns out that one of those juniors was, um … Ethel’s younger cousin,’ he confesses, to which you barely hold in a guffaw. ‘She and her gang, uh … well, they weren’t exactly understanding.’

You snort in amusement, adjusting your bag.

‘You sure know how to pick ‘em.’

‘Hey, at least I’m out there trying,’ he counters.

You look at him in concern.

‘You all right?’

‘Yeah,’ Ryosuke affirms, sighing. ‘It’s just … girls can spout shit when they want to.’

You give him a friendly pat on the back. They could.

>>3488148
>'Come on, I need to do my gift shopping.' (Head into the City)
>Head to the Practice Hangars
>Head to the Academy Plaza
>Head to the Stadium
>Head to the Instructors' Lounge
>Head to the Gardens/Lake
>Head to the Academy Staff Domiciles
>Try the Archive
>Write-In

>>3488150
where should we go now lads?

>>3488150
Just to clarify, Academy Staff Domiciles is where the Instructors live. It's on the other side of the lake and where those like Fisher and Wray may most likely be at.

>>3488150
>>Head to the Academy Staff Domiciles

>>3488150
>Head to the Practice Hangars

>>3488150
>>Head to the Academy Staff Domiciles

>>3488150
>Head to the Practice Hangars

>>3488150
>Head to the Stadium
Thanks for tagging along Rosaria.

>>3488150
>>Head to the Academy Staff Domiciles

>>3488150
>Head to the Practice Hangars

>>3488150
>Head to the Practice Hangars
Letsa go