#bourgeoning

"That could have gone better." She's been half-in, half-out of aristocracy her whole life. Midori knows both sides of the coin enough to see it in their eyes; disgust, refusal, even anger. Lest she spark Kaito's nightmares with her talk - she turns to Suzume, instead. Calm, untethered, gloriously pragmatic. She's the foil to Midori's madness. The smarts to her muscle. Who else would she turn to, in these uncertain times?

"I'm sure you're privy to the council's constant talk? What do you think? Should we use our time in Spain to weed out the last of the rebel forces?" Japan was victorious, and some may say victory is good enough reason to leave well enough alone. And yet... "I'll do what's needed, of course. But you are wiser," pausing, she cheekily adds; "And prettier - so I trust your judgement best."

Despite his own madness, there is a breath of relief that emerges. At least, his bruised cheek and ripped lip are a result of his brother. Rough housing, as it were. Plenty were not so lucky, and Elliott settles into a chair outside of the infirmary. Waiting, or perhaps expecting, terrible news. Gulping, he catches the eye of the person across from him. "Are you waiting for a physician, or for someone else to emerge from within the infirmary?" Elliott asks, morbid curiosity married with a touch of gravitas. He may have been lucky. But could others say the same?

"My lord, is there something amiss at the back of my skirt?" The Princess questions in a soft, falsely conscious voice. Looking over her shoulder and down at the silk of her skirt, feigning concern. Then, with Cheshire cat eyes, peering up at the German lord's lingering gaze. A knowing twinkle in her eye. They both knew that the German lord was looking at her, and not at a spot on her dress. Really, it was an adorable crush... And a useful one, at that.

"Good day, lord Von Fersen." Elena greets, finally. "I've missed you so these last few months." Has she? Debatable. But Elena plays coy and fluttering.

Forgiveness is meant to be warm, like an embrace or a touch of a hand. But its only ever been cold in these last few months. Except, perhaps, with Kazu. The advisor's young and energetic son who, unlike everyone else at Japan's court, had taken to her. Maybe because she was like a child herself. She's halfway through a conversation about monkeys when she sees Suzume lingering, just off the corner of her eyes. "So long as you do not steal anything from an animal you can't outrun... You should be fine." Midori assuages with a small laugh, rounding off the topic of stolen bananas from the grand breakfast. "Look, child." A term of endearment that always made Kazu laugh. "It's your mother."

"Are you awaiting your new Emperor's swift dismissal?" Angelo keeps a keen eye on everything, especially the coming's and going's of the young Japanese Emperor. A new ruler is either a blessing or a curse in Angelo's own reach for a crown, and playing it well is key. Still, Angelo is a man who likes to win, and win he shall. But everyone knows behind every great Emperor is an advisor. That is, if Suzume is not so consumed with her own upcoming interview to pay him mind. "I am certain there's nothing to fear. Everyone mourns for the late Japanese Emperor." He considers, voice almost considerate. But Angelo is a snake in sheep's clothing, and he turns to Suzume with an upturned smirk. "We did not receive thanks for China's invitation of Japan into this congregation." Or if they did, Angelo certainly didn't hear about it. Emperor Kaito is a stone wall. "But I trust you'll make our country's friendship known."