“Papa Mayuri?” Rukia repeated incredulously. “You’re in the squad 13 offices... Did you say to the past? What the hell is going on here?”

Rukia blinked in surprise as the taller man leaned down and kissed her cheek. It took her a moment to remember that this was a form of greeting among some humans. Perhaps this was the case since she had never met him before. Her brow furrowed slightly as she returned the gesture. His energy was strange, both human and not human at the same time. He wasn’t a hollow or Shinigami. Neither did it fit that of a Quincy or full bringer. So what was he?

“Ah... hello to you... sir?”

“Not another goose...” Rukia muttered to herself, using a flash step to catch up to the creature and making a move to grab her zanpakuto back.

“Oh so it is!” Rukia smiled softly. “Are your parent’s having a party for you?”

The port hangar was far busier than usual, though Maven supposed that could hardly be surprising considering recent circumstances. Space had been made for their soon to be arriving guests and their ships, which had required a fair bit of shuffling she'd been told. She noticed that there seemed to be an atmosphere of apprehension among the technicians and even some of the hangar guards.

Sighing, she shook her head - there was only so much one could do to bolster morale. Maven knew there was a fair amount who weren't completely on board with her decision to open up negotiations with the Resistance. But something had to be done to counter the damage the First Order had done to the New Republic, and the Resistance was far more desperate for help than the last time they'd had talks. Perhaps this time she could manage to escape the discussions without a black eye.

Her comm unit chirped, the bridge calling down to alert the hangar concerning ships dropping out of hyperspace nearby. There was a brief tense moment before a secondary comm indicated that the ships were indeed the ones they had been expecting. Maven tapped the activation button on the comm unit as she raised it up to her lips, watching the hangar entrance.

The site for the negotiations was an old and mostly defunct Imperial storage facility on a planet of no real strategic value beyond the crumbling structures themselves. Only one building was still relatively intact - a small prefabricated box that had once been home to the facility's maintenance crew. It had been stripped of any and all useful equipment decades ago, and existed only as an empty shell against the planet's inclement weather.

The building overlooked the facility's landing pads, somewhat cracked and sunbleached but ultimately still useable. One of them held Maven's own personal shuttle, a small craft not unlike the Lambda-class in design though somewhat smaller in size. After a prolonged argument with her second-in-command - who had insisted that this meeting was more than likely going to end badly - she was accompanied by two guards. Both of whom, no doubt, had directions to comm the Stormbreaker should anything unfortunate happen.

Scanning the skies, Maven considered what it was the First Order hoped to gain from this. After all, she had refused all their previous offers and instead of acting on all the insults dressed up as compliments, she had ignored them in favor of non-interference. That they had even asked, no, demanded - the First Order never asked - for more negotiations to take place was suspicious enough.