>>4919710
>'How does this relate to you not being able to go on a personal holiday again? I ... don't get it.' (Clueless)
>'That's a microscope, all right.' (Sympathize)
>'The Unsealed? Impossible. You're not really ... the same, I think. Different principles and all that.' (Draw comparisons in the most equivalent aspects)
>'I'm sorry, but I don't ... I've never really held you as equivalents in that case, even if they have sound theory. I've only ever seen you as ... well, just like everyone else. Soldiers, heroes, teachers, comrades ... forget the magic.' (Personal opinion)
>'Well, it's not without precedent, yeah.' (Scrutinize)
>Nod in understanding, keep your silence
>Shrug, dismiss it in silence
>Write-In

>>4919718
>>'I'm sorry, but I don't ... I've never really held you as equivalents in that case, even if they have sound theory. I've only ever seen you as ... well, just like everyone else. Soldiers, heroes, teachers, comrades ... forget the magic.' (Personal opinion)

>>4919718
>'I'm sorry, but I don't ... I've never really held you as equivalents in that case, even if they have sound theory. I've only ever seen you as ... well, just like everyone else. Soldiers, heroes, teachers, comrades ... forget the magic.' (Personal opinion)

>>4919718
>'I'm sorry, but I don't ... I've never really held you as equivalents in that case, even if they have sound theory. I've only ever seen you as ... well, just like everyone else. Soldiers, heroes, teachers, comrades ... forget the magic.' (Personal opinion)

>>4919718


>That sounds like an awfully cynical way to look at a friend just because she happens to be capable of levelling a city by shelling.
>Is it really that bad to not allow you some personal holiday? Is it a formal limitation imposed on you, or is it you being considerate to not step on toes?

new quest: get bisko a licence to open carry herself to a vacation

>>4919718
>'I'm sorry, but I don't ... I've never really held you as equivalents in that case, even if they have sound theory. I've only ever seen you as ... well, just like everyone else. Soldiers, heroes, teachers, comrades ... forget the magic.' (Personal opinion)

>>4920112
supporting

Running in about 30-45 minutes. Please be here.

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>'I'm sorry, but I don't ... I've never really held you as equivalents in that case, even if they have sound theory. I've only ever seen you as ... well, just like everyone else. Soldiers, heroes, teachers, comrades ... forget the magic.' (Personal opinion)

The three of them actually looked … amused.

‘You’re barely a year into the phasing stage of a career that’s in as uncertain a stage as anything,’ Formidable replies, not unkindly, but not with the consideration of regard, either. ‘You hardly qualify to judge these sort of things from your position. Taking such small spans of exposure as primers for the future is naive, at best. Optimistic and not at all unwelcome … but unfitting in the ultimate context of just what both of us, at the end of the day, are. Or, rather, where you think you stand and what we know about ourselves. You can’t just say those sort of things without due consideration, cadet. It’s what the recruitment department precisely means to screen out.’

You find Formidable’s statement condescending, regardless.

‘I don’t think that I’m wrong to consider you more than just something that was made for a purpose and just cast to the way-side … or even leverage. If it was up to me, I’d just leave you to do whatever that’s left to be done, not fight over what you should be doing. And to add on to that—to add on to that—even if the bureaucrats and the paperwork’s pushing you around—however it pushes you around—I don’t think that it’s something that you should be defining yourself by beyond the military machine.’

Rubbing the back of your neck, you wonder, briefly, staring at the table-top, if you’d stepped truly out of line by virtue of responding at all. The instant of that consideration, however, passes, as you decide that if you were already over the ledge at this point, you might as well do a flip crashing into the crags below. You lift your gaze, throwing and uncertain look all along the table, as the three women appear to give you whatever pause you required to gather your thoughts.

It is a chance that you take like a dagger down a throat, lathered with syrup.

‘You have worth, you know? And it’s not just because you can rip through the Albion cliffs at seventy-five percent imbalance purging. I assure you: whatever the … politicians and the committees say … don’t define yourself by them, Instructor … Captain; Lieutenant.’

You lean back, having said your piece. Whatever they said back, whatever punishment awaited you, you would—

‘That is the most obvious pick-up line that I’ve heard since gaining awareness,’ Belfast muses, tenting her hands and chuckling.

‘He would not be of vigor if he did not at least try, of course,’ Bismarck concurs, giggling behind a half-closed hand.

File: Indeed, He Is Obvious.png (955 KB, 1920x1091)

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>>4920765
>'I'm sorry, but regardless of anything and everything that you represent, none of you are my type.' (Flat)
>'I actually want to bring home a girl that won't send my grandparents into convulsions, thank you.' (Reject)
>'You can take it how you want to, ma'am.' (Indifferent)
>'We are in esteemed company. It would be insulting to not at least make the attempt at flattery.' (Playful; focus on Bismarck)
>'The both of you have known me long enough to judge for yourself, I think. A year's probably more than enough for a pair of super-enhanced minds.' (Throw back the statement; focus on Formidable and Belfast)
>'I need to go for a bit. Men's room.' (Leave for a while)
>'Be serious for a moment.' (Irritated)
>Write-In

>>4920771
>>'We are in esteemed company. It would be insulting to not at least make the attempt at flattery.' (Playful; focus on Bismarck)

>>4920771
Come on, give me some credit. I mean it. I mean, it’s not like you being the lovely visages of heroism and nobility didn’t color my judgment here but the very fact of us sitting here and making conversation is proof enough that you’re people that also happen to be living weapons rather than the other way around!

>>4920771
>>'The both of you have known me long enough to judge for yourself, I think. A year's probably more than enough for a pair of super-enhanced minds.' (Throw back the statement; focus on Formidable and Belfast)

>>4920771
>'The both of you have known me long enough to judge for yourself, I think. A year's probably more than enough for a pair of super-enhanced minds.' (Throw back the statement; focus on Formidable and Belfast)

>>4920771
>>'The both of you have known me long enough to judge for yourself, I think. A year's probably more than enough for a pair of super-enhanced minds.' (Throw back the statement; focus on Formidable and Belfast)

I'm around. Hands up if you are, too.

>>4921903
heyo

>>4921903
yo buddy

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>'The both of you have known me long enough to judge for yourself, I think. A year's probably more than enough for a pair of super-enhanced minds.' (Throw back the statement; focus on Formidable and Belfast)

‘You’re not operating without reason on that side, I suppose,’ Belfast responds, leaning forward with her eyes barely visible past the rim of her hat, but with enough of an amused glint to make it apparent that she’d—at the very least—made an attempt at being thoughtful about it. ‘It’d be a lie for either of us to say that you weren’t … amicable enough to approach without having it feel like it was all tacked on.’

You feel your cheeks heat up, Belfast’s praise had caught you off-guard.

Formidable doesn’t quite snort derisively at Belfast’s words, but there is a reluctant aura about her as you turn your gaze to find her resting her cheek on her open palm, one elbow on the table and lips carved into what could be taken as either scowl or smirk. ‘It’d be stupid to draw that the only qualities that would allow for our approach to be concluded as far as you merely being nice, of course.’

‘I’d like to think that it does … or, you know, thank you for saying that much, at least,’ you respond, almost reflexively. You couldn’t bare to think that the only reason that someone—Shipgirl or human—would approach and share in a friendship with you on the shallow basis that you just happened to be nice. You’d like to at least be deluded with the belief that you offered a little bit more than that, even in the most neurotic of episodes. There had to be some sense of self-worth in this body of yours.

‘I find it hard to believe that none of you are bridged with one another,’ Bismarck observes, glancing along the table as you had. ‘You’re more amicable than some squadrons I’ve seen operate.’

‘It’s probably because I’ve been such a failure so far that we’ve actually been able to get along at all, Captain,’ you reply, snorting in amusement. ‘Instructor Formidable and Instructor Long Island have been trying really hard to put me over the top, but … I don’t know, there must be something up here’—you tap the side of your head—‘that’s rimming it out instead. I think that there’s some kind of mental block preventing me from establishing a proper bridge with them.’

Bismarck’s eyes go wide, as though she had come to a startling realization.

‘Wait, you’re both his psyco baseline?’

Belfast’s lips curl up into a smile that’s almost embarrassed, hanging her head in … well, embarrassment.

‘We’re making an effort towards it, at least.’

The Captain regards you, wary and incredulous. ‘You do realize just how … reckless this is? You’re … you’re still a cadet … and you two …’

>>4921979
>‘The trials are made at the discretion of the cadet and the permission of the Shipgirls involved. The risks are mine to bear.’
>‘Yeah, I … maybe I’m going over my head a little.’
>‘What?’
>Write-In

>>4921979
>To this day I am still thankful for the two of them for taking a chance with me even if I'm still not able to break through that block to form a stable bridge with either of them

>>4921981
>Grandma always told me that the best way to keep going is to look up at the stars, and pursue.

also this >>4921986

>>4921992
also going for this

>>4921986
Supporting this

>>4921992
>>4921986
supporting and combining

>>4921986
>>4921992
Supporting the combo.

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>To this day I am still thankful for the two of them for taking a chance with me even if I'm still not able to break through that block to form a stable bridge with either of them
>Grandma always told me that the best way to keep going is to look up at the stars, and pursue.

Bismarck closes her eyes as she crosses her arms over her chest, her chair creaking with a slight to push away from the table, a begrudging snort escaping her. ‘Commendable, but utterly irresponsible on all your parts,’ she remarks, unwilling to let go of the last word. ‘Aspirations are … admirable, but on practical terms, you must at least be aware of your own value to the coalition. To borrow more immediate comparisons, it’s an utter waste of potential and resources to push a tier that has not been achievable in the last five years on a neophyte in the hope that he’d break through. We aren’t even comparing the dangers of SSR-level stream control. The last thing any of us should be risking is turning another prospect into a vegetable by encouraging his ego.’

You’re actually offended.

‘That’s not to say that I mean any offense, of course,’ Bismarck almost stammers, cutting you off before you could shovel more fuel onto your ticking ire. ‘The assets involved, the risks at hand … I just believe it’s inefficiency built on conjecture rather than calculation. The factors involved don’t spell favorable outcomes and attentions that could be spared elsewhere become ultimately gambled on … well, odds at their purest. From the perspective of military, long shots aren’t ones we’re accustomed to taking … nor should the years of active duty incline us to forget such lessons.’

Belfast’s smile turns icy as Formidable’s gaze turns up the temperature, the both of them locking on to Bismarck’s resolute, disciplined stare.

‘However,’ she continues, ‘I also recognize that my opinion regarding the judgment of those outside my immediate resolution should remain so in respect to our—to the agreements that have thus far been drawn. Reckless as it is.’

‘Captain,’ you interject, your voice as calm and matter-of-fact as you can manage, ‘I understand where you’re coming from … and I’d probably stop short of endorsing myself, too, but … regardless of the bare minimum I can squeeze out of myself, it’d be a disservice to Azur Lane to not at least make the effort to try. I’m not unaware of just what my decision implicates in relation to my record, Captain, though, I owe it to the ones that believed in me enough to give me that chance to, well … give it my all in return.’

‘It’s a perilous road you take for yourself,’ Bismarck imparts. ‘It’s one I would not encourage.’

>>4922426
>‘It’s also moored on a mutual agreement approved through official administrative channels, so your contest remains opinion, regardless.’ (Snipe)
>‘I get where you’re coming from, but the Instructor and the Lieutenant are … well, they’re their best too and if things don’t work out, it’s my reputation for the gators more than either of there’s, really. For anyone else, it’s just two Shipgirls picking up a hobby.’ (Indifferent)
>‘Maybe I’m lucky that you’re not assigned out here. I wonder if you would’ve said yes, Captain.’ (Muse)
>‘Understandable.’ (Nod)
>‘Excuse me, I need to find the little boy’s room.’ (Excuse yourself)
>Write-In

>>4922429
>‘Maybe I’m lucky that you’re not assigned out here. I wonder if you would’ve said yes, Captain.’ (Muse)

>>4922429
>‘Understandable.’ (Nod)

>>4922426

>Thank you for your candour, Captain. It is as you say, especially if looked at from pragmatic point of view. But I'd like to think it's not just my ego talking, I think I'd be giving any potential I may have a disservice if I did not try and make good to fullest extent on the trust that has been put in me.

or as someone said back when the choice was being made, go big or go home.

>>4922470
supporting

>>4922429
>>‘Maybe I’m lucky that you’re not assigned out here. I wonder if you would’ve said yes, Captain.’ (Muse)

Are we around, my friends?

>>4923475
I am indeed now

>>4923475
yo buddy still alive

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>‘Maybe I’m lucky that you’re not assigned out here. I wonder if you would’ve said yes, Captain.’ (Muse)

Bismarck regards you with a flat, doubtful look, a wry smile carving itself from the corner of her lips.

‘No, not at all, I wouldn’t have approved any request from cadets looking to establish their first sustainable bridge baseline,’ she declares, waving her hand back and forth in emphasis to her position regarding the topic at hand. ‘Putting prospects in harms way in so deliberate a fashion would be impractical and a waste of resources. It’d be the equivalent of asking a leisurely rock-climber to attempt ascending The Split Peak. I believe any of us with sound rounds of judgment would tell you the same. The Rs and Cs are the only ones that should be considered for trials at all; it’s less risky that way … for all parties involved.’

>‘Yeah, I … guess. Now that I think about it, actual Commanders could probably use having the Lieutenant and the Instructor on-call more than me.’ (Concur)
>‘I’m not disagreeing with you, but considering just what the psyco profiles require … you can’t really just put a chasm between the classes. Commanders and Shipgirls might not even find their matches in such small sample sizes. It’s not like a college group project.’ (Reason)
>‘Go big or go broke.’ (Emphasize your position)
>‘Is that how you picked your Commander out from the pile?’ (Snipe)
>Write-In

>>4923824
>>‘Go big or go broke.’ (Emphasize your position)

>>4923824
>‘Go big or go broke.’ (Emphasize your position)

>>4923824
>>‘Go big or go broke.’ (Emphasize your position)

>>4923824
>It is a sensible position, pragmatic, practical. Nonetheless, the connection established goes past what is purely technical and if the potential is there, along with trust and hope, I’d be remiss to not do my utmost to deliver. The possibility in my view outweighs the risk. Besides, knowing our limits may be wise but it also makes it harder to push them. (Acknowledge but reiterate)

>>4923824
>>‘Go big or go broke.’ (Emphasize your position)

>>4923824
>>‘Go big or go broke.’ (Emphasize your position)

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>‘Go big or go broke.’ (Emphasize your position)

Bismarck harrumphs, her disapproval and acceptance made known by that one sound. She lifts her gaze up slightly, her furrowed brows briefly relaxing before eventually leveling out and allowing her to spare both Formidable and Belfast—who had adopted stoic, detached countenances between the both of them—a brief glance apiece.

‘Despite all the exchanges we’ve had over the years, I’d expected the both of you to at least handle this on less flighty terms … but considering just where you both have dug in in the past, I probably shouldn’t be surprised regarding just how many lines you’re willing to cross to get to your destination.’

She’s definitely addressing the Lieutenant and the Instructor with that.

The waitress comes over with your drinks.

>‘I’ll be back in a bit, sorry.’ (Leave the table and freshen up)
>‘Drinks are here.’ (Distract from the conversation)
>‘Come on, now, let’s not put the tropical sun and festivities into a meat freezer, huh?’ (Try to lower tensions)
>Gulp down your drink and silence and watch the conversation unfold
>‘Captain, I think that’s enough.’ (Stern)
>Write-In

>>4924985
>>‘Come on, now, let’s not put the tropical sun and festivities into a meat freezer, huh?’ (Try to lower tensions)

>>4924985
on one hand i wanna calm them down on the other hand tho i know better then to intervene between lionesses hue

>>4924985
>Captain, I thought you came to enjoy the festivities and the tropical atmosphere, not drag up grievances between you, the LT and the Instructor. Can we at least keep things civil please ma'am?

>>4925014
I'll support that.

>>4924985

>Don't you think you're being a bit harsh, Captain? You speak sense, in pragmatic and conservative terms, but there is no shortage of cases where great things were achieved and boundaries challenged even in face of risk and danger. Still, I appreciate your concern for wellbeing of everyone involved and efficiency of the process.

also check the time, we don't want to be late for the parade, though I'd rather the girls parted on at least somewhat amicable terms

>>4925014
Supporting

>>4924985
>>‘Captain, I think that’s enough.’ (Stern)

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>Captain, I thought you came to enjoy the festivities and the tropical atmosphere, not drag up grievances between you, the LT and the Instructor. Can we at least keep things civil please ma'am?

‘The cadet’s correct,’ Belfast chimes, wearing a smile that, while forced, exuded a diplomatic sort of patience to it. She lifts her goblet, doing a little toast with the empty air as her bright purple eyes lock with the Captain’s, gesturing towards the same calm that you’d attempted to steer towards not moments ago. ‘It’d be a shame to bring such baggage on a day that we’ve put out for the very purpose of avoiding it. Shall we agree to put the arguments on hold until the forms come through … Bismarck?’

Bismarck … nods, lifting her coconut husk into the air, nudging it slightly towards Belfast in response. You let out a sigh of relief as your shoulder slump, glad that the table had been able to move past the topic without a leveled city block … not that you’d expected any of the three to lose control, of course. There was a reason that they’d been afforded rank and stature beyond the scope of mere tools … and having a thick skin when a tantrum could level a city block on a bad day was one of them. Formidable hums thoughtfully, placing both her elbows on the table and docking her chin into her cupped hands, her line of sight appearing to fixate beyond the top of Bismarck’s hat.

‘Speaking of … how long do we have until the parade and ceremony get underway?’

‘Not until the early afternoon, I think,’ you answer, glancing at your watch. ‘We still have plenty of time to do whatever any of you’d like to do, so … where next?’

‘As long as we don’t lose track of time, I don’t have a care how we spend it,’ Belfast answers, her tone indifferent. ‘Where do we want to go first?’

That was a good question. Where did you want to go first?

You’d only experienced the festivities of the graduation parade once before … and most of your celebrating had been constrained to the main street and the beach promenade, watching the street performers and pigging out on exorbitant snacks and picking up a souvenir t-shirt and a—much to your embarrassment—a knock-off fanny pack featuring a crude drawing of a foursome of Royal Navy shipgirls front and center that you’d been hoodwinked by.

At least the carnival rides were fun.

>‘Let’s hear the Captain’s suggestion.’
>‘Instructor Formidable?’
>‘I usually just hang out with my friends whenever I hitch on a boat here. Your call, Lieutenant.’
>‘It’s not the carnival experience without getting your money ripped off from rigged games!’
>‘I actually want to pick up some souvenirs.’
>‘Main street, definitely.’
>‘Maybe we should check on how the parade’s coming up. I know there’s time, but …’
>Write-In

>>4925517
>‘It’s not the carnival experience without getting your money ripped off from rigged games!’
>Lets see if we can find one with stupidly large super-deformed stuffed caricatures of the three of you.

>>4925517
>‘Instructor Formidable?’

>>4925517
>>4925523
shooting gallery for three plushies? hopefully there's no claw game around.

>>4925517
>>‘Main street, definitely.’

>>4925523
>>4925517
Support

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>‘It’s not the carnival experience without getting your money ripped off from rigged games!’

There were no protests to your suggestion. Drinks downed and shoulder-to-shoulder with the masses of tourists and locals, you maneuver around a reveler on stilts, juggling manjuu-shaped orbs the size of bowling balls to the awe of the passers-by (Bismarck included). The main street was huge, catching enough width for a group of tanks to roll through without a problem, now serving as the primary draw for those looking to trade in the beach-facing promenade for the gaggle of variety stalls that the vendors had set up in anticipation for the festivities. Wading through the shifting walls of humanity, though, you can’t help but pat yourself on the back in regards to how well you’d managed to disguise a trio of attention-grabbing women through the use of tacky, tourist-trap hodgepodge. No one spares any of them a second glance, allowing you to journey undeterred by the onslaught of adoring fans. Not that it made finding your way in this mess of a carnival that much easier, but you take what you can get.

‘What do you think? Looks great on me, right?’ one large man declares, stepping forward and spreading his arms wide, showing off what you presume to be a very recent acquisition to his bespectacled, mustachioed friend, who was licking away at a triple scooped ice cream cone.

‘Didn’t take you for a Honolulu fan.’

‘Honolulu? This is Zara!’

You’d only experienced the festivities in the company of Abigail and Connor once before … but even then you could see just why the vendors pulled out all the stops to make bank. The wave of souvenir shirts, baggy shorts and wide hats—to say nothing of the clicking phone cameras and proper cameras that could be heard every five or so steps—was almost suffocating at times at the junction cross, situated at the end of the promenade and the bleed into the shopping avenues and arcades … which were also littered with endless blocks of stalls and street vendors peddling all sorts of Azur Lane-related—but not sanctioned—merchandise.

‘Come on, mom, just one more!’ you hear a child—some freckled, curly-haired child with a baseball cap turned backwards—beg his mother, leaning with all his weight to keep his mother from escaping.

‘We were supposed to meet with your grandfather half an hour ago! Now, come on!’

‘But it’s Yorktown! He’d understand!’

‘Can we at least go to the dunk tank? Belfast is there!’

You stop in your tracks.

‘Belfast?’

The woman in question—disguised and not half a foot behind you—stops in her tracks, wearing a look of interest as your entourage comes to a halt.

>>4926437
>'Shall we pay a visit?'
>'I'm pretty sure that you can't be at two places at once.'
>'Belfast, huh?'
>Write-In*

*Encouraged

>>4926438
>>'I'm pretty sure that you can't be at two places at once.'

>>4926438
>Shall we find out who is pretending to be you?

>>4926438
>'I'm pretty sure that you can't be at two places at once.'

>>4926438
>'I'm pretty sure that you can't be at two places at once.'

>>4926437

>Let's check it out, Auntie, Belfast is awesome!

we're still undercover guys, let's not bring attention to Bel's identity

>>4926437
>Let's check it out, Auntie, Belfast is awesome!

>>4926442
>>'I'm pretty sure that you can't be at two places at once.'

>>4926455
i am going with this

>>4926455
>>4926503
>>4926524
I'm actually quite amused by this.

>>4926441
>>4926452
>>4926454
>>4926523
Do I have your permissions to proceed?

>>4926607
Sure, I'm fine with it

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>Let's check it out, Auntie, Belfast is awesome!

Formidable covers her mouth, looking away. Bismarck coughs into a closed fist. You, however, manage to sport a ghost of a smirk … even with Belfast all up in your face, sporting a very dangerous smile and slit-narrowed eyes, somehow pinning you down and dragging you up in a showcase of strength. You can feel your knees buckling under the sheer force she exerts on you, her nose less than an inch away from yours.

‘Shall I schedule a professional psychological reevaluation of your state of mind, cadet? It concerns me that you’re so prone to such suicidal tendencies.’

Her smile remains.

So does her grip around your shirt.

>Write-In

>>4926631

>If you think it will help, but can we please shelve discussions of my mental health until after we've seen the marvelous miss Belfast? We can continue the LARP right after.

Cutefast.

>>4926649
im with this

>>4926649
Also supporting

>>4926649
supporting

>>4926649
supporting

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>If you think it will help, but can we please shelve discussions of my mental health until after we've seen the marvelous miss Belfast? We can continue the LARP right after.

Her lips don’t even twitch. ‘Just what do you take me for, young man?’

You move to comment further that her mode of address didn’t lend her any favors in regards to external perceptions of her … maturity, but wisely decide to quit while you were ahead, lest you risk turning half the attendees at the junction into cases of collateral damage. Belfast seems to contemplate slamming your head into the concrete for a moment, before it is finally interrupted by the calm intervention of two diplomatic hands upon her shoulder and yours, belonging to one comically-bespectacled and very amused-looking Bismarck.

‘Come on, now,’ Bismarck speaks up, prompting the loosening of Belfast’s grip around your shirt … although she doesn’t quite release you from it enough for you to put your weight back onto your feet again. ‘Your skin can’t be that thin, Lieutenant.’

Bismarck’s roundabout mark has Belfast releasing your shirt and allowing you to step away, dusting imaginary dirt off yourself, her little spectacle having drawn surprisingly no ounce of attention, proving that the tacky mix of clothes had, at least thus far, proven their fair worth. You adjust the rucksack over your shoulders, throwing Bismarck a thankful look … that she returns with a gaze and creased brow that showcased a warning to not prompt further ire from the Lieutenant and just how much of a fool you were to tack on that joke without regard to Belfast’s sensitivities in that sector.

In your defense, however, you found it too tempting to not make a comment on it.

‘I think we’ve found our next point of interest, then,’ Formidable remarks flippantly, rotating her upright wrist for emphasis, her teeth bared and showing her amusement as she lowers her comically garish sunglasses with her free hands. ‘Shall we make a move and catch the show, Auntie?’

You and Bismarck really have to hold Belfast back, then.

Although you’re quite sure that you spent at least twenty seconds of that flailing about as Bismarck tried to soothe the tantrum-throwing Lieutenant (While, predictably, Formidable watches the results of her handiwork with a great big smirk). It’s what you get trying to pit human strength against a being capable leveling a whole city by herself.

In any case, more soothing works from Bismarck and an extremely insincere apology from Formidable later, the four of you find yourselves on your way again, wading through the colorful crowd and nursing your ears from the loudspeaker-enhanced street jockeys vying for victims … of which there were many. It’s not long, however, before you arrive just where you absolutely mean to.

The queue is long and the onlookers are loud and plentiful.

A woman lies on her side, sporting silver hair and bright red lipstick upon her attractive features, clad in a tassel-adorned bikini with curtains of decorations placed along the rim of their bright silver design, throwing coy finger wiggles towards her onlookers. She lays upon a trap door, smiling and blowing kisses in an effort to rile up the crowd, the maid’s headdress and the frills on her bikini straps telling you just who she’s meant to be.

She’d probably pass the eye-test from twenty feet or more. The queue is long, but you find yourself practically shoulder-to-shoulder with the tourists just trying to get a good look of the source of the hubbub.

‘Twenty bucks for three shots? Really?’

‘It’s for charity, man.’

You look up to see the sign, right above the cartoon picture of what you assume to be the Lieutenant.

The Northern Lights’ Children’s Cancer Foundation: Sink The Belfast!

You’re not sure if the title was in good taste, but your eyes wander to the dunking mechanism, which wasn’t a mere static target, but a rotating mark of seven separate targets, five of which are marked with a smaller, yet visually identical copy, of the cartoon head that floated above the attraction’s sign.

‘It’s twenty bucks, though!’

‘Look at it this way: if you hit one, you get a picture for the fridge with a cute girl … and if you hit two out of three you get a kiss and a picture. That’s more action than what you’d be getting on a Friday night.’

‘Yeah, if I hit it at all.’

‘It’s a children’s cancer charity, you tightwad.’

You move away from the conversation, unwilling to hear anymore, finding your companions with three and a half easy steps to the right, who were now watching a pre-teen girl try her hand at Sinking The Belfast, her first throw managing to open one latch to the door, but completely missing the mark on her next two, to the disappointment of the onlookers who had expected a splash.

‘Doesn’t this infringe on copyright laws?’ Bismarck mumbles, lowering her glasses and frowning. ‘Do we report this?’

Belfast and Formidable remain silent, watching the girl walk up to the Belfast impersonator to have her picture taken. A man in swimming trunks and a white nose from excessive sunblock walks down from a previously-hidden step ladder behind the dunk tank mechanism and display—who you presume to be the dunk tank’s operator—produces a positively ancient polaroid camera from his side-bag, snapping and handing the young girl her winnings, before the so-called imitator resumes her previous pose, the next participant—some tanned reveler in garish beach shorts—takes his shot.

He misses the first toss by a mile.

>>4934794
>‘Lighten up, Captain.’ (Chastise Bismarck)
>‘It’s for charity, Captain. It’s for children’s cancer, for God’s sake.’ (Appalled)
>‘This isn’t Ironblood. Besides, don’t you have … cosplayers there?’ (Flippant)
>‘I give her impression a … C-plus. She’s got the looks down pat, but the wig’s pretty obvious.’ (Observe, shift the topic)
>‘I don’t know, but I think I’m all right with parting ways with twenty bucks in the name of charity.’ (Coy)
>‘I think I’ve seen enough. You girls want to go catch something else?’ (Move to leave)
>Write-In

>>4934799
>>‘I give her impression a … C-plus. She’s got the looks down pat, but the wig’s pretty obvious.’ (Observe, shift the topic)

>>4934799
>>Write-In
and the stereotype of the ironblood having no sense of humor is true

>>4934799
>‘I give her impression a … C-plus. She’s got the looks down pat, but the wig’s pretty obvious.’ (Observe, shift the topic)

>>4934799
Do you think it’s legit? Looks in good fun but only if it’s actually for charity and not a “belfastscam”…

>>4934799
>‘I give her impression a … C-plus. She’s got the looks down pat, but the wig’s pretty obvious.’ (Observe, shift the topic)

>‘I give her impression a … C-plus. She’s got the looks down pat, but the wig’s pretty obvious.’ (Observe, shift the topic)

Belfast snorts, but the slight twitch of her lips tells you that she’s at least … neutral to your input regarding her look-alike, who was now blowing kisses and making ineligible (but otherwise blatantly flirtatious) statements towards the tanned man whose throws don’t quite come close to landing him the prizes he likely covets with every thrust and swing of his arm. A mix of boos, cheers and applause arrives as he steps—

‘Come on, man,’ a stranger sounds out—taller, older and sporting a very red face adorned with a beard and a baseball cap—staring down at you with a look of disappointment, his voice low enough to almost count as a hiss. ‘There are kids here, you know? You gonna ruin it for everyone?’

He gestures to the clapping children in the queue with their parents or older siblings, shaking his head at you.

>‘Sorry.’ (Sheepish)
>‘So’s the real deal.’ (Show off Belfast)
>‘I’ve seen amateur cosplayers deal better draws.’ (Snipe)
>‘Everyone really enjoys buying into the illusion that much?’ (Unimpressed)
>Write-In

>>4934867
>>‘Sorry.’ (Sheepish)

>>4934867
>I think I can do the kids and everyone else one better... let me introduce my Aunts... Belfast Formidable and Bismark.

>>4934867
>>‘Everyone really enjoys buying into the illusion that much?’ (Unimpressed)

>>4934867
>"Hey, I'm complimenting her actually, the standard is set really high!"

>>4934959
Supporting

>>4934875
we have the disguises for a reason anon -_-

>"Hey, I'm complimenting her actually, the standard is set really high!"

The man regards you for a moment, his expression wary … before looking away and easing the tension around his brow, his countenance growing relaxed as he appears to accept your backtracking.

‘This your first time out here?’

You turn to face the man again, his follow-up catching you by surprise.

>‘I practically live here, actually.’ (Cryptic)
>‘If you’re referring to the festivities, no. I actually attended last year.’ (Direct)
>‘You a regular, huh?’ (Question him back)
>‘Didn’t catch where that’s any of your business.’ (Evasive)
>Write-In

>>4945020
>>‘If you’re referring to the festivities, no. I actually attended last year.’ (Direct)

>>4945020
>>‘If you’re referring to the festivities, no. I actually attended last year.’ (Direct)

>>4945020
>>‘If you’re referring to the festivities, no. I actually attended last year.’ (Direct)

>>4945020
>>‘You a regular, huh?’ (Question him back)

>‘If you’re referring to the festivities, no. I actually attended last year.’ (Direct)

‘My kids can’t get enough of this. My youngest has a fleet of those Royal Navy dolls,’ he muses, seemingly taking your response as a spur. ‘Makes her easy to shop for, but I wish she’d put a little bit of variety in her likes. Not like my oldest is any better, of course. He has a whole damn shelf of the Ironblood model kits. He just got top of the class in his freshman year and he’s asking me to get him one of those … limited edition kits or whatever they are: Battle Configuration Bismarck or something. You’d never guess that they were an international defense coalition with the number of toys they got out there.’

A young man in glasses and a t-shirt drooping to his knees has a go at a toss, completely missing the mark with his first throw … and dully hitting the rotating center with the next, smiling wryly as he steps off to tepid applause. The man next to you crosses his arms, snorting as he watches the bikini-clad impostor recline, waving to the onlookers with an all-too-rehearsed smile of her own.

‘Although, I have to admit, the festivities being in paradise does make the plane ticket effectively pay for itself.’

>Just nod, but otherwise don’t respond; you don’t want to encourage him to think you were bothered at all with his ranting
>‘You’re here with your family?’ (Inquire)
>‘Considering how big of a tourist trap the islands are, I’m inclined to agree.’ (Respond)
>‘Been here for just under two years myself. Takes a while to get used to, but I won’t say that it’s unfavorable.’ (Casual)
>‘You’re not into the whole scene yourself, I take it?’ (Inquire)
>‘Well, as long as you’re having a good time … no reason not to stick around when you are, right?’ (Awkward)
>Write-In

>>4946312
>‘Been here for just under two years myself. Takes a while to get used to, but I won’t say that it’s unfavorable.’ (Casual)

>>4946312
>>‘You’re not into the whole scene yourself, I take it?’ (Inquire)

>>4946321
>>4946354
Flipping a coin. Coin flipped.

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>‘You’re not into the whole scene yourself, I take it?’ (Inquire)

‘It’ll take more than toys and fast food endorsements to convince me that a war homunculus packing an arsenal enough to level half a major city is anything close to being kid-friendly.’

His tone is rough, his voice akin to gravel being scraped along the ground. Even with surrounded by the din of the cheering crowd, you pick up something on an edge to this man that is beyond what mere age and wisdom mills. His goatee crinkles with an absent scratch of his hands as he turns down to you, wearing a look of amusement and a gaze that you call back to your younger days. He feels … like a teacher, an educator, stern and dry, but not without humor. His hands grip the barrier as the sardonic upward twitch of the corners of his mouth make themselves known to you, indicating an ease of tension from his side. You shrug lightly, taking his point at face value; that was a job for marketing deparments to define; not yours.

‘Besides, I’m too old to get into anything of that sort,’ he concedes, rolling one shoulder and adjusting his cap. ‘Kids like it and I get to book a nice vacation to a tropical paradise once a year, pretend my divorce never happened and get to enjoy a fine drink and the warm sun.’

‘You always talk like this to strangers?’ you throw back, raising an eyebrow.

‘Only to see how they respond,’ he returns in kind, wearing a look of amusement. The both of you turn to see the next participant, who flings both the balls way off-course, one of them almost hitting the edge of the board between the crowd and the contraption. ‘Kind of a habit that I’m … trying to work out of my routine, sorry.’

You nod. ‘That’s all right,’ you reply, glancing to your left to see Bismarck and Formidable oddly engrossed at the mundane sight of terrible marksmanship before turning back to engage the man in conversation. ‘At least you’re getting something out of it. It’s good that you’re not totally forcing yourself.’

‘The kids just eat it up, I tell you,’ he mutters, shaking his head as the operator yells something loud and incoherent into a loudspeaker (Although, you do make out the word “noise” in there somewhere). ‘They can’t get enough of this stuff. Every time we come out here we end up shopping for at least three more bags to bring souvenirs home. My son’s worse than my daughter. He’s got closets full of these action figures and if I so much as mention … Jamaica or Massachusetts he just lights up. Back in my day, the kids at school would have hung me on the tent pole for that.’

He chuckles, tapping his fingers against the barrier.

‘The name’s Berg, by the way.’

The man—Berg—extends a hand.

>Take it
>Eye it
>Write-In

>>4946382
>>Take it

>>4946382
>Take it

>>4946382
>>Take it

>>4946382
>>Take it

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>Take it

You take his hand, introducing yourself. The crowd oohs as someone—a lanky, wiry man sporting an afro and a shirt with a tropical pattern—barely misses finding the second mark, his throw pinging helplessly against the metal rods holding the mechanism and joining its fellows on the ground.

‘You here for your honeymoon?’

You stare at him, confused.

‘What?’

‘That’s your wife, I assume?’

You notice him pointing at …

>Bismarck
>Formidable
>Belfast

>>4946850
>Formidable

>>4946850
>Formidable

>>4946850

>Bismarck
I reckon he's not paying that close attention to Belfast or he would have identified her...

so what is the specifics of cover story? Probably not wanting to tempt fate with Auntie again.

Cousin(twice removed), her bestie and their penpal (formerly exchange student) from overseas came to the festival and we're guiding them about on account of being familiar with the area?

>>4946850
>>Bismarck
NOT EVEN A CHOICE BEST WOMAN

>>4946878
>I reckon he's not paying that close attention to Belfast or he would have identified her...
You basically dressed your girls up like Hawaiian Karens, desu. Whole 9 yards, no stops.

>>4946895
Perfect. The girls deserve only the finest stealth tech known to man.

>>4946909
It's all fun and games until they ask to speak to the manager.

>>4946869
>>4946870
>>4946878
>>4946889
Flipping a coin.

And ...

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>Bismarck

Bismarck peels her attention away from the dunk tank, finally noticing that she was the subject of a conversation within immediate proximity, never mind it was merely in passing. Your first thought in following through on the man’s—this Berg, whoever he was—assumption was why and how he’d singled out Bismarck of the three you’d so keenly accompanied … only to realize that Belfast and Formidable had somehow broken off and wiggled their way three people astride and had left the Captain practically snuggling you like … well, like the man had said: a couple of newlyweds enjoying their honeymoon.

The Captain lowers her sunglasses slightly, briefly glancing at the stranger who you’d just met … before cocking a barely-visible eyebrow at you.

Her hand lingers upon your wrist, her upper arm rubbing against your elbow … and her stare very much expectant.

You were on your own for this one.

In your opinion, this set a poor example for leadership.

>‘She’s just a friend that happens to be in town. I’m just showing her around, really.’ (Play it cool)
>‘Never seen her in my life. Ma’am? Would you mind dislodging yourself from my arm, thanks?’
>‘Honey, this is, uh … Mr Berg. We just, um … met.’ (Play along)
>‘This is actually my superior: I think your kids would have at least exposed you enough to battleship Bismarck.’ (Lay it all out)
>Write-In

>>4946992
>>‘Honey, this is, uh … Mr Berg. We just, um … met.’ (Play along)
I REGRET NOTHING

>>4946992
>‘She’s just a friend that happens to be in town. I’m just showing her around, really.’ (Play it cool)

>>4946992
>‘She’s just a friend that happens to be in town. I’m just showing her around, really.’ (Play it cool)

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>‘She’s just a friend that happens to be in town. I’m just showing her around, really.’ (Play it cool)

He lets out a small chuckle of embarrassment, shaking his head before turning his gaze up with a softer, apologetic gaze. The man, known to you as Berg, sucks in a sharp hiss, his ears wiggling slightly while his throat swallows the indignation of a hypothesis that completely misses its mark. Personally, you feel quite amused that people would come to the conclusion that a pretty face such as Bismarck’s would be intertwined with your knuckle-dragging oxygen-stuffer of an existence, but it’s a badge that you could definitely live with on your chest. Berg, the first man who could ever make such a mistake, adjusts his caps, extending his look of apology to Bismarck, who you notice hadn’t quite taken her hand off your wrist.

‘S-Sorry,’ he apologizes, stuttering slightly, his face as red as it had been prior. ‘Just … forget about it.’

‘It’s all right,’ you wave it off, throwing an amused look to Bismarck, who merely shakes her head in response. ‘Gives me some hope when people can make that sort of mistake at all.’

‘That’s … not what I was getting at,’ he mumbles, slumping his shoulders as he turns to face the both of you again. ‘Berg,’ comes the mutter as he extends his hand, which Bismarck takes with a good-natured smile.

‘A pleasure.’

Berg tilts his head.

‘You’re European?’

‘Ironblood.’

Berg chuckles slightly as he and Bismarck break off the hand-shake, resembling an amused uncle surveying a five year-old’s first attempt at a formal introduction. ‘And just like that you’re one of the two pleasant encounters that I’ve had with that side of the world.’

You frown, wondering whether to take offense on Bismarck’s behalf or to stay silent.

‘No offense meant, of course,’ he sighs, raising his hands as he backs away. ‘Just not used to someone from Ironblood addressing me without talking down to me about archaic methodology or something … so thank you for that.’

Bismarck’s brows furrow slightly, her expression telling you that, while not quite offended by Berg’s quick statements of her and her home nation … she couldn’t quite muster a proper response for the man who, apparently, had no qualms jumping into the dark with nothing more than his toes straight down and a pair of trunks. Berg, appearing to sense this, makes a call for neutrality with his hands, gesticulating them in a measure to ease both of you into his pace and vice-versa.

‘I’m sorry, I’m … probably shouldn’t have kicked-off with that. Just a little … anecdote.’

He looks away, turning his attention back to the dunk-tank, very much embarrassed.

>>4947503
>‘Don’t worry about it. I accidentally tore up my desk-mate’s drawing on the first day of school. It’s fine.’
>‘I think we can relate to that a little better than you think.’
>Keep silent
>Write-In

>>4947504
>>‘Don’t worry about it. I accidentally tore up my desk-mate’s drawing on the first day of school. It’s fine.’

>>4947504
>>‘Don’t worry about it. I accidentally tore up my desk-mate’s drawing on the first day of school. It’s fine.’

>>4947503
>‘Don’t worry about it. I accidentally tore up my desk-mate’s drawing on the first day of school. It’s fine.’

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>‘Don’t worry about it. I accidentally tore up my desk-mate’s drawing on the first day of school. It’s fine.’

Your attempt at bringing the conversation back into stiller waters appears to set him back at ease. Around you, the crowd claps loudly as a woman—a pudgy, curly-haired lady with an infant by her side—appears to make the first double-bullseye since your arrival, sending the Belfast look-alike into the pool with a loud splash. The wig, thankfully, appears to hang on, keeping the illusion. Children, hoisted high by their parents, laugh and cheer loudly as the dunk tank operator climbs down from his spot, the woman smiling widely as her clueless ward—who you notice was sporting one of the Azur Lane caps—waddles beside her to take a photo next to the drenched model, whose head-dress, much to your surprise, remains fastened to her head.

It must have come with the wig.

‘So, since it’s probably my turn to make assumptions, can I put it in the hat that you’ve gone to that part of the world enough to make generalizations of the local populace and their tendencies?’

‘I used to be a liaison for the Eagle Union to the … former Vatican Enforcement Concorde. I think it’s called something like the Pan-European Enforcement Agreement or whatever it is these days. Church lost the ruling like twenty-five years ago and I’ve tried to stay out of the technical stuff since. Mostly operated in illegal export-import … contraband and artifacts. There’s a lot of gray in how the definitions go and, well … it just doesn’t translate well between our side of the world and theirs. Green is red and red is yellow … that sort of thing, you know? Great use of five years of undergraduate math.’

There’s probably an inside-joke there, but you don’t get it. Berg lets out a slight chuckle.

‘You’re a federal agent?’

‘Former,’ he emphasizes, not missing a beat. ‘Like I said, I was mostly a liaison in the day, fishing for stuff that shouldn’t be crossing borders and a desk jockey when they didn’t need me to fly out and check whatever they thought they needed a signature on. These days I’m just … just doing whatever the eagle says needs doing and, well … ironically enough, I spend most of my days doing conference calls with people halfway across the world that talk down to me like I belong back in grade school.’

He smirks, almost arrogant in expression.

‘I tell you, almost makes me wish I’d stayed in the …’

Berg trails off, shaking his head and snorting.

‘Sorry, just rambling a little. You’re not really from around here either, are you? Mid-west?’

>‘Proudly South. I know, I know, I don’t sound it.’
>‘Couldn’t be more wrong.’ (Dismissive)
>‘Close enough. The inflection kills suspicion.’ (Indifferent)
>‘Thereabouts.’ (Vague)
>Write-In

>>4947540
>‘Close enough. The inflection kills suspicion.’ (Indifferent)

>>4947540
>>‘Proudly South. I know, I know, I don’t sound it.’

>>4947540
>>‘Proudly South. I know, I know, I don’t sound it.’

>‘Proudly South. I know, I know, I don’t sound it.’

‘There’s a bit of an auto-adjust in your voice; practiced for a general audience, but obvious to know that it was practiced,’ he points out with a chuckle. ‘College man?’

‘Putting my studies on hold for the time being,’ you half-confess, shrugging. You weren’t quite comfortable totally exposing the nature of your occupation if he hadn’t deduced it for himself already … and while stories of your days as a cadet were probably interesting enough to drop into casual conversation, you weren’t quite sure that associating yourself with Azur Lane in the presence of three people looking to distance themselves from that same association (lest their identities spill over) would make you a genius

‘Gap year’s always a good idea,’ Berg imparts thoughtfully, crossing his arms as he watches the next soul step-up for their turn at the toss, the operator raising his hand and indicating a counter detailing the charity in question. ‘See the world, find out what you really want to do with your life before jumping in, you know?’

‘You sound like a school counselor.’

‘I was an external consultant on the back half of my years,’ he explains, casually and dismissively. ‘They bring someone into the office and I have to bring him up to speed and I end up having to drag him along until he asks for a transfer because he can’t stand being talked down to in fifteen different languages … and I go through the same thing the next year. Rinse and repeat … rinse and repeat. Routine’s overrated.’

‘And what’s your name, young lady?’

‘Felina.’

Berg’s head shoots up, adjusting his cap as he dives into his pocket for his phone, his attention squarely on a girl who couldn’t have been older than seven, standing beside a black-clad teenager sporting a titanic nose and a huge mop of unkempt hair that hadn’t quite decided whether it was fair or dark just yet. The attraction operator had produced a small microphone, squatting and holding it near her mouth. She was an adorable little bundle, clad in a child’s swimsuit adorned with a minimalist depiction of Belfast’s head-dress and sporting a hair band on top of her dark hair.

‘And who’s this big guy? Your brother?’

‘Yes!’

‘And what’s his name?’

‘Pinkie!’

The teenager quickly leans over, grabbing the mic. ‘Patrick.’

The crowd laughs loudly. Berg louder than most that make up the number, now holding up his smartphone and recording the whole affair. The smile on his face practically threatens to split his head in two.

‘Since you’re such a cutie, I’ll give you three throws. How does that sound?’

She smiles toothily, nodding in agreement. The crowd claps, encouraging her as the operator steps away.

They’re met with disappointment as the girl tries an under-arm throw, not even managing to reach the target, the ball joining its sisters on the carpeted floor. You hear some encouraging yells from the audience, just as well, urging for her to not be disheartened.

The second ball rolls right over the rotating targets. Some members of the audience clap in recognition of her effort.

‘Come on, Felina!’ Berg yells, sounding very much like an over-enthusiastic … parent?

>‘Your daughter?’ (Inquire)
>‘Tell her to wind it up and step back for more swerve. She’ll be more likely to hit on the arc than she would a straight-up throw from her height. Go ahead.’ (Offer your advice)
>Stay quiet and watch
>Write-In

>>4947815
>>‘Your daughter?’ (Inquire)

>>4947815
>Stay quiet and watch

>>4947815
>Stay quiet and watch

>>4947815
>>‘Your daughter?’ (Inquire)

>>4947815
>>‘Your daughter?’ (Inquire)

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>‘Your daughter?’

‘Huh? Oh … yeah. My kids, yeah.’

She misses the third throw, just as well. If you were close enough to give out tips, maybe you could have managed to give one regarding the use of her shoulder and proper form for a wind-up, but that was it. The girl—Felina—doesn’t throw a tantrum at the physical failure of her task, slumping her shoulders in disappointment as her brother leads away to the round of encouraging applause.

‘Patrick!’ Berg yells, waving his hand towards the retreating back of the teenager, his call ignored by the applause. ‘Patrick!’

The podium’s spot is taken by a girl in a large sun-hat, the boy and his sister vanishing back into the crowd.

‘Sorry, I’ve gotta get going,’ Berg announces, shoving his phone back into the front pocket of his shirt, his face turning a light hue of pink as his attention becomes immediately taken with more pressing, personal concerns. ‘Nice chatting with you two.’

Berg shuffles and wiggles into the crowd, calling out the names of his two children, leaving you and Bismarck (and by extension, Formidable and Belfast) to the din of the enthusiastic crowd. Bismarck wrinkles her lips as she cranes her neck, hovering just over your shoulder for one last clean look …

‘Captain?’

‘Sorry, just … I feel like I’ve seen him before …’

‘Really?’

‘It could just be a passing resemblance, but—’

‘Cadet,’ comes the sudden whisper … and the sensation of a light shove by two large hands against your back, almost pushing you against the railing. Slightly irritated, you turn around, only to find your shoulder catching against the chest of the perpetrator … smack dab in the valley of her generous bosom. It’s Lieutenant Belfast … and her dark eyes are lit up with the flames of expectation, compliance and reverence.

You try to pull your arm away and stammer an apology, only for her to latch onto you, her own arms coiling around your bicep and the rim of her hat practically cutting into the side of your head and scratching at you like a cat’s paw. You can’t get away, even if you tried; the supernatural strength bestowed upon her by virtue of her nature as a ship-girl equates your effort akin to a worm trying to tug a length of rope in its advantage against a water buffalo.

She gazes up at you, her expression determined.

‘I require twenty cervs,’ she whispers. ‘Formidable and I don’t have change for the booth.’

You move to ask the obvious.

‘Wh-Why do you need twenty cervs?’

‘I wish to do my part for charity, of course.’

The crowd claps loudly as the “Belfast” falls through the trap-door to rapturous applause.

Formidable lingers stoically behind her fellow Shipgirl, slowly shaking her head in disapproval.

>‘Maybe we should get going.’ (Allow her to indulge in her pettiness)
>‘Oh … all right.’ (What could go wrong)
>Write-In

>>4949795
>>‘Oh … all right.’ (What could go wrong)

>>4949795
>>‘Oh … all right.’ (What could go wrong)
I have a mixed feelings about this...

>>4949795
>‘Oh … all right.’ (What could go wrong)

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>‘Oh … all right.’ (What could go wrong)

Formidable and Bismarck form the head of your four-man group, sporting identical looks of irritation and disbelief. You don’t even have to do a double-check; the silence that they’d adopted since your departure from the dunk tank had kept in pace with their stiff pace, occasionally throwing looks back at the coy smirk sported by the Lieutenant, who, in contrast to the two ahead, had been radiating nothing but warmth for the last five minutes, her endeavor fulfilled.

The crowd is sparse down this particular stretch of road, what with cars and cabs of all kinds parking illegally by the partitions on the road-side and preventing any sort of stall or business from being erected. You have a clear shot back to the back-side of the pier, the lack of a large crowd allowing you to notice the crimson tram rolling through the curve of the green embankment against the slope of the artificial hill leading into the town center sporting the face of a cheerful Sims encouraging people to buy an island pass at some sort of nonsensical discount.

It’s a great deal quieter here compared to the—

‘I can’t believe you let her go through with that,’ Formidable growls, stopping in her tracks and almost decapitating you with her wide hat.

Bismarck lowers her sunglasses, her support for Formidable’s statement more than apparent.

>‘I just gave her twenty bucks!’
>‘What? It was for charity!’
>‘What? No one got hurt … except for that poor girl’s emotions, but … well, no one got hurt!’
>‘Can we just move along?’
>'What are you blaming me for? She out-ranks me. You're the ones who should have stopped her!'
>Write-In

>>4950053
>>‘What? It was for charity!’

>>4950053
>>‘What? No one got hurt … except for that poor girl’s emotions, but … well, no one got hurt!’
>It was very in character thing to do, honestly... maybe there are some thresholds we should not be crossing?

>>4950061
>It was very in character thing to do, honestly... maybe there are some thresholds we should not be crossing?

Belfast's archetype is the mature head who is actually not as "cool" as she thinks she is and isn't above stooping to levels that people wouldn't otherwise associate her with just to put a point across. It's why she's "best friends" with Formidable in this Quest.

>>4950053
>‘What? No one got hurt … except for that poor girl’s emotions, but … well, no one got hurt!’

>>4950053
>>‘What? No one got hurt … except for that poor girl’s emotions, but … well, no one got hurt!’

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>‘What? No one got hurt … except for that poor girl’s emotions, but … well, no one got hurt!’

‘She practically threatened her with dismemberment!’

‘I did no such thing,’ Belfast protests with a huff, holding up her prize … a personal photo featuring an absolutely terrified look-alike draping her arms over her as she leans in for a hesitant peck on the cheek. ‘I merely … stated some observations that I believed I would have made myself. That hardly qualifies as a threat.’

Formidable fixes Belfast with an irritable look, shaking her head in disapproval.

‘You can be absolutely unbelievable sometimes, really,’ she breathes out, thoroughly exasperated.

‘You’ve been around her for more than a decade and it takes you this long to come to such a conclusion?’ Bismarck jibes, smirking and crossing her arms over her chest.

‘She’s been more incorrigible lately.’

For some reason Formidable gives you an accusatory stare.

>Write-In

>>4950114
aw man this is a hard one to make a write in for or maybe im just sleepy
I wanna go with either a clueless or confused answer or fuck something i cant think of right now

>>4950114
"There's no need to be so harsh, today is supposed to be a day of celebration and fun after all"

>>4950114

>I'm sorry, I honestly didn't expect the matters to escalate that far. I'll exercise more prudence in the future.

bite the bullet... kind of tempted to twist the dagger by commending Belcute for her very auntylike behaviour but she'd probably take it out and gut me with it through both screen and fourth wall.

>>4950114
>Surely she's not been that bad Instructor

>>4950114
hey she out ranks me you should of stopped her

>>4950114

Combine >>4950137 and >>4950143 . Something to the tune of encouraging them to relax, but telling Belfast to scale the aggression down a touch. Compliment her on her throwing arm, though.

Just going to drop this here.

My sister had a miscarriage and my immediate family has been on an emotional support rotation to make sure that she's doing fine. Since I had the most free time I was calling her up every now-and-then to check with how she was coping. She left the hospital yesterday and my mother is now on a full-time care schedule for her until her mood picks up again, so that leaves me in a better state of mind to run this afternoon.

>>4959844
Damn. Condolences, OP.

>>4959844
hope for better times mech

Running in approximately half an hour.

>>4959844
Do what you gotta do, man. My condolences, and good luck.

Okay, for real this time: One hour, no bull-shit. Something came up yesterday.

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>"There's no need to be so harsh, today is supposed to be a day of celebration and fun after all"

You decide to play the mediator.

While the Instructor probably had a point regarding just how much more … more the Lieutenant was behaving, there was no sense to turn a day of fun into a sulking contest when there was just so much else to do. Your hands go up in a placating gesture, taking one step forward to, at the very least, toe the line between the impression of your authority and your true place as their rank-and-file inferior. It—humorously—occurs to you that, at the very least, with these two, you were getting good practice in regards to your presumptive future as an Azur Lane Squadron Commander trying to sort two SSR-Class units out the way you were doing right now. While military discipline wasn’t quite the optional extra it played right now within Azur Lane, the anecdotes of Commanders playing baby-sitters more than a link in the chain-of-command were common enough—are common enough—for you to muse to the true extent of … the presented rigidity, and you can’t help but let out a small chuckle as the both of them seem to immediately come to their senses and decide to not pursue their sisterly squabble.

‘Agreed,’ Formidable sighs, albeit reluctantly. ‘We should be—’

「それでも前に進むの」
振り返らずに

That wasn’t you.

We gotta go!

Belfast digs out her phone from her huge pockets.

誰もが奪われることを恐れて
先に奪うこと 止めないから

>‘Big fan?’ (Tease Belfast)
>Allow Belfast to answer her phone in peace
>Write-In

Sorry for lateness. Japanese text is HELL to format in the word processor. I ended up having to copy paste it directly into the fucking box.

>>4961082
>>Allow Belfast to answer her phone in peace

>>4961082
>Allow Belfast to answer her phone in peace

>>4961082
>Allow Belfast to answer her phone in peace
We can bug her about it later.

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>Allow Belfast to answer her phone in peace

The continuous stream of tourists and revelers don’t give Belfast the courtesy of space to get a good ear for her call. She leans into the group, hunching over and almost poking you with her hat, holding her phone close to the left side of her head with one hand while placing one finger into her free ear. You muse that you, Bismarck and Formidable were being used like a make-shift phone booth by the former, whose hat—now scratching the tip of your chin from the angle that she was taking in an attempt to respond to her caller—had now completely obscured her from view and was giving you an eyeful of the tacky plastic hibiscus of an adornment that threatened to shove its much-too-long stalk up your nostril.

Being as close as you are, however, you can’t help but catch the conversation, even with the masses of humanity chatting up an ambiance of static that would have put sensory tests to shame.

‘Are you sure that this isn’t just a mix-up?’ Belfast inquires, allowing whoever was from the other side to get in at least a window of a response. ‘Considering the how many of them trade-in schedules around this time of year, the possibility does … yes … I understand, but two missed reports shouldn’t … I understand.’ Belfast’s voice transforms into a more irritable quality, the grind in her teeth not quite grating, but definitely resembling a teacher who was slowly teetering from the cushion of patience into complete exasperation. ‘Are there any units out there? No, no, from their side. Are the jocks putting this as priority?’

There’s a mumble of a plea from Belfast, who, despite the complete obscuring of her features from your direct line of sight, emanates a sort of desperation for whatever it was … to not be so. There is no such luck that follows, however, as after a ten second pause, the Lieutenant’s mumbled pleas turn into mumbled expletives, prompting her to return to full height with a cruel, tired smile practically etched upon her face, her phone tightly gripped in her hand and her neck craning upwards as her fall is finally complete.

‘And of course they would,’ Belfast sighs, running a hand over her face and almost knocking her sunglasses off. They dangle over her nose. ‘And there’s no one else that could?’

She briefly glances at Formidable as the other side gives their answer.

‘Oh no, I haven’t seen her,’ Belfast replies, practically biting the air. ‘Of course. Tell Commander Tague that I’ll be there.’

She kills the call, shoving her phone back into her pocket.

‘I need to go and see Commander Tague,’ Belfast declares, readjusting her glasses. ‘You lot go on without me.’

>>4961184
>‘Don’t mean to pry, but what was all that about?’
>‘The Jocks? What do they want?’
>‘You’re meeting up with Commander Tague? Must be serious.’
>‘What was all that about, Lieutenant? Another Squadron playing hooky?’
>‘Permission to continue my duty as your escort, ma’am. Instructor, if you would?’
>‘The best laid plans of mice and men. We’ll see you at the parade, Lieutenant.’
>Write-In

>>4961193
>>‘You’re meeting up with Commander Tague? Must be serious.’

>>4961193
>‘The best laid plans of mice and men. We’ll see you at the parade, Lieutenant.’

>>4961193
>>‘You’re meeting up with Commander Tague? Must be serious.’

>>4961193
>>‘The best laid plans of mice and men. We’ll see you at the parade, Lieutenant.’
Thanks for coming with us!

sounded urgent so probably better not to hold her back. Wonder what it's about though.

hey mech when are you going to update project wingbride

>>4965890
Once I finish moving. I'm in the middle of resuming my studies as a mature student and have been trying to get everything sorted out as only I, of all the idiots in the universe, could be the only person to leave things to the last minute in such a way. Also, once I finish all the relevant Ace Combats and make sure that my lore isn't contradictory to any future developments.

>>4971059
That’s fair.