#biotecna

Bold declaration from the Biotechnica representative (and who the director would like to deem a friendly colleague) is sung while taking the first sip of her freshly poured Sauvignon Blanc that she almost chokes. “Oh dear,” lips purse in a near pucker, “That’s quite dry.”  Poor may be the attempt to hide her surprise, a light chuckle even sounding as she sets the square glass back down on the spotless bar to remain there for more than a few beats. But as with the wine, she tries her best to swallow and keep the conversation flowing.

“Perhaps you’re right.” Fingertips retreat from the glass’ cool side, her posture straightening, and a kind smile returning to lips stained in crimson red. The lipstick is about the only colorful highlight of her monotone work ensemble, especially when compared to the magnificent representation of bioluminescent technology seated eloquently at her side.

𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜. Nate put it down to him just remembering when the guards changed their shifts, the blind spots in the cameras. So on. So forth. The idea had bubbled into fruition that perhaps Awa wanted him to come. Why else would they continue to have such lacklustre security if there wasn’t some part of the chase that was enticing to them, too? The thought was always stubbed out with the heel of a corporate boot before it was allowed to be anything but that. 

“Your security is absolute dogshit, you know that right?” Making himself comfortable, Nate pressed a hand against the glass of the aquarium, peering through the glass to see if he could put his eyes upon anything that belonged to them. “What if I was here on official business? You’d be dead 10 times over now.”

the former nomad bristled at the question, tattooed fingers clenching into fists at her sides. her battlefield had changed these days -- there was no use for brute force or raised fists -- and so would her tactics, it seemed. " grow up? grow up? what do you think all of this has been -- an exercise in immaturity? " oh, freya was seething. so much was clear, even if she wouldn't move to strike awa down. had she known better -- had she even cared -- she would not have shown this level of anger in front of them. what the nomad might see as righteous anger, others could characterize as weakness. and she did not put it above awa to do so. every feeling was a weakness to these corpos. " and what exactly does 'growing up' look like to you? at least i can see the world outside of a bubble. " arms crossed, freya took a step forward, emboldened by her anger. " just because i choose not to bow to those that cage me. . . " she shook her head, " it isn't my fault you've mistaken compliance for maturity. "

" hm? oh, long enough. " at first, hanako wasn't even bothered enough to look up from the datapad she was casually scrolling through with her free hand. long, golden fingertips tapped quietly against the screen as her eyes scoured the text quickly, processing each point before efficiently moving on. her other hand rested on awa's shoulder, a finger entwined into a lock of their hair. they hadn't fallen asleep in her lap, but hanako was sure that her lap was infinitely more comfortable than the rigid couch -- so she'd made an adjustment. " i've gotten quite a bit of reading done, " she released their hair, instead deciding to trail her nails gently along their shoulder along to their neck. " i hope you slept well. you looked. . . well, you looked quite peaceful. i hardly wanted to be the one to wake you. "

THE HEADY SCENT OF FRUIT PERFUMES THE THICK BLANKET of white foam, tickling Vasya’s nose as she shifts in the bathtub. She’s up her her tits in the stuff, watching passively as little waves ripple across the surface. This would be of little consequence to her of course, if she didn’t have all of her clothes on. Vasya can already feel the uncomfortable chafe of low rise jeans, as she shifts in place, sending another wave spilling over the side of the porcelain and on to the floor below. It would take hours for her hair to dry too, long and thick as it was. There’s a self-satisfied smirk on the face of the person sitting across from her, naturally. THEY HAD PULLED HER IN AFTER ALL. Vasya quicks a brow at them, tapping their leg with the toe of her boot [ yes! boots too. ] in disapproval. They’d better hope to god their life isn’t in danger, V can’t promise she won’t slip and crack her head open if it is.