[Hanya isn't the only one giving Moze a long stare, at length, as the man sets down his idea and a Discourse proceeds to ensue.
It's not even that it's a particularly bad plan, objectively speaking. In fact, from a tactical standpoint, it's really rather sound. With the very limited manpower on their own side at hand, and the breakout in itself already a mess made, the next best option is damage mitigation--if they're all to make being alive worthwhile for the interim, anyway, until either they're overwhelmed or reinforcements from the Seat arrive in time. Divide the enemy into sections, divide themselves accordingly, salvage surviving wardens as they can be found...
But then there's the finer details, and practicality still does little to alleviate the sheer awkwardness of more...emotional, reservations. Dan Heng's the first to promptly vocalize an objection about the team sorting, for honestly fairly understandable reasons; Moze, unaffected by the politics of this particular sticking point, argues accordingly; Caelus chips in. Luocha remains silent throughout. Though the look he's been levelling Moze's way does border on incredulous for just a flicker of a moment, when exes are brought up. It really does border on comical, in a way, just how very close that nearly strikes. ...Honestly, though.
Ridiculous. This entire situation is ludicrous. In the detached sort of way that one wishes for the impossible, Luocha entertains the brief and terribly appealing temptation to just turn and walk away from this entire gathering without another word. Maybe pick his way back to that cell and settle for awaiting the outcome after all. Let all this get ironed out by other parties and wash his hands of it, disruptive Borisin influence regardless.
...But no, no. Stay the course, says principle. The contract has already been accepted; the commitment has already been made; the ease of certain future plans do rather hinge on this being resolved. ...Not as if he hasn't had to deal in worse duress than this in the past already, anyhow. Not as if having to coordinate with someone he's already had the (dis)pleasure of...dealing with, far too soon before, is an impossible thing. Yet another discomfort to weather. How many times has it been already?
"Are you okay with this?" So Caelus asks, with an uncertainty in those gold eyes--with an anxiety thrumming in the incessant pulse of that Stellaron--as if the nerves were genuine. Luocha, bitterly, cannot help but wonder why.
But he's practiced enough with expressions divorced from all thought within. The slight smile that settles on his features now is a detached thing, the emptily polite kind at a service desk. All business, and directed more to Dan Heng and Moze than Caelus himself.]
Well, my own opinion has little bearing in the grand scheme, doesn't it? I stand here currently only at the pleasure of the Madam Judge, after all, on the terms and conditions of her contract. If it has been determined that this is the best way for me to contribute service, then so be it. [...Here, a sidelong look to Dan Heng in particular, the smile ever-so-briefly curving into something almost knowing.] ...So long as it remains within my power, few things die under my watch. Much less explode. This much I can assure.
[As Dan Heng would know better than most, all things considered. Which he's evidently well aware of, and still very unhappy about, if the deepening of his frown and the narrowing of his eyes in response is anything to go by.
But time is of essence, and the argument closes there.
The group parts ways accordingly. Hanya, drawing upright with Xueyi's puppet still cradled in her arms, imparts a few last directions on the best pathways down to the lower levels and the sealing terminals for each of them before setting out for the central terminal herself. Moze is brusque about heading off immediately afterwards, though Dan Heng lingers just a little longer; Caelus is given a brief grasp at his shoulder. "Be careful. Don't...do anything you'll regret. As soon as this is taken care of, we'll meet back up." Then, a last long look leveled Luocha's way. "...If anything happens to him..."]
Then it'll be on my head. I'm aware.
[There's clearly no reassurance drawn from the nod of deference Luocha levels Dan Heng's way. Then again, nothing Luocha could do or say at this point would likely ease the scowl on his face--and Dan Heng could hardly be blamed for that. With a single and very stiff nod back, he peels off to the sound of Moze calling up ahead.
And then it's just Caelus and Luocha, left to their own devices.
...The silence that ensues is probably a near-strangling one. In reality it only stretches a couple of minutes or so, punctuated by the tap of Luocha's boots as he sets off in their determined direction without waiting to check if Caelus follows. (He knows that he will, of course. Can tell just as easily by the proximity of that cosmic thrum housed in his chest, too, still equal parts grating and strumming upon nerves.) Still, minutes can feel like their own eternities in certain contexts. There aren't even any Borisin attacks to immediately break up the heaviness of it, as they begin to descend to the Shackling Prison's depths.
But, at length. ...At length.]
You've a friend who clearly cares about you a great deal. It's rather impressive, really, all things considered...
[Flat enough to nearly be idle, as if this were a passing remark to kill time on a longer elevator ride.]
no subject
It's not even that it's a particularly bad plan, objectively speaking. In fact, from a tactical standpoint, it's really rather sound. With the very limited manpower on their own side at hand, and the breakout in itself already a mess made, the next best option is damage mitigation--if they're all to make being alive worthwhile for the interim, anyway, until either they're overwhelmed or reinforcements from the Seat arrive in time. Divide the enemy into sections, divide themselves accordingly, salvage surviving wardens as they can be found...
But then there's the finer details, and practicality still does little to alleviate the sheer awkwardness of more...emotional, reservations. Dan Heng's the first to promptly vocalize an objection about the team sorting, for honestly fairly understandable reasons; Moze, unaffected by the politics of this particular sticking point, argues accordingly; Caelus chips in. Luocha remains silent throughout. Though the look he's been levelling Moze's way does border on incredulous for just a flicker of a moment, when exes are brought up. It really does border on comical, in a way, just how very close that nearly strikes. ...Honestly, though.
Ridiculous. This entire situation is ludicrous. In the detached sort of way that one wishes for the impossible, Luocha entertains the brief and terribly appealing temptation to just turn and walk away from this entire gathering without another word. Maybe pick his way back to that cell and settle for awaiting the outcome after all. Let all this get ironed out by other parties and wash his hands of it, disruptive Borisin influence regardless.
...But no, no. Stay the course, says principle. The contract has already been accepted; the commitment has already been made; the ease of certain future plans do rather hinge on this being resolved. ...Not as if he hasn't had to deal in worse duress than this in the past already, anyhow. Not as if having to coordinate with someone he's already had the (dis)pleasure of...dealing with, far too soon before, is an impossible thing. Yet another discomfort to weather. How many times has it been already?
"Are you okay with this?" So Caelus asks, with an uncertainty in those gold eyes--with an anxiety thrumming in the incessant pulse of that Stellaron--as if the nerves were genuine. Luocha, bitterly, cannot help but wonder why.
But he's practiced enough with expressions divorced from all thought within. The slight smile that settles on his features now is a detached thing, the emptily polite kind at a service desk. All business, and directed more to Dan Heng and Moze than Caelus himself.]
Well, my own opinion has little bearing in the grand scheme, doesn't it? I stand here currently only at the pleasure of the Madam Judge, after all, on the terms and conditions of her contract. If it has been determined that this is the best way for me to contribute service, then so be it. [...Here, a sidelong look to Dan Heng in particular, the smile ever-so-briefly curving into something almost knowing.] ...So long as it remains within my power, few things die under my watch. Much less explode. This much I can assure.
[As Dan Heng would know better than most, all things considered. Which he's evidently well aware of, and still very unhappy about, if the deepening of his frown and the narrowing of his eyes in response is anything to go by.
But time is of essence, and the argument closes there.
The group parts ways accordingly. Hanya, drawing upright with Xueyi's puppet still cradled in her arms, imparts a few last directions on the best pathways down to the lower levels and the sealing terminals for each of them before setting out for the central terminal herself. Moze is brusque about heading off immediately afterwards, though Dan Heng lingers just a little longer; Caelus is given a brief grasp at his shoulder. "Be careful. Don't...do anything you'll regret. As soon as this is taken care of, we'll meet back up." Then, a last long look leveled Luocha's way. "...If anything happens to him..."]
Then it'll be on my head. I'm aware.
[There's clearly no reassurance drawn from the nod of deference Luocha levels Dan Heng's way. Then again, nothing Luocha could do or say at this point would likely ease the scowl on his face--and Dan Heng could hardly be blamed for that. With a single and very stiff nod back, he peels off to the sound of Moze calling up ahead.
And then it's just Caelus and Luocha, left to their own devices.
...The silence that ensues is probably a near-strangling one. In reality it only stretches a couple of minutes or so, punctuated by the tap of Luocha's boots as he sets off in their determined direction without waiting to check if Caelus follows. (He knows that he will, of course. Can tell just as easily by the proximity of that cosmic thrum housed in his chest, too, still equal parts grating and strumming upon nerves.) Still, minutes can feel like their own eternities in certain contexts. There aren't even any Borisin attacks to immediately break up the heaviness of it, as they begin to descend to the Shackling Prison's depths.
But, at length. ...At length.]
You've a friend who clearly cares about you a great deal. It's rather impressive, really, all things considered...
[Flat enough to nearly be idle, as if this were a passing remark to kill time on a longer elevator ride.]