Thera Pardalis

"In my personal experience a lot of the 'lite' or 'diet' foods just taste like the regular versions but with less flavor," Steven remarks with a soft, mildly annoyed sigh. Food is complicated, especially food marketing. Captialism really has them all playing mind games with their food choices.

"Maybe I ought to make a little of both then. I'm a tea person, of course but I'm outnumbered when it comes to the other too. Jake and Marc are coffee fiends. Especially Jake. Must be a New Yorker thing." Steven softly shrugs before joining her over at the cupboards. "I equally enjoy homemade and store bought iced tea. I like to joke that the fact I like both just as much is Marc and Jake's American-ness rubbing off on me."

"Well, that's possible ... " She opened the left side cupboard and set two tall glasses on the counter, smirk pulling her lips, "I can act all shocked at them if you like, claim they're corrupting you?" The looks on their faces would be worth the price of admission alone. Thera went back to the fridge for the bottled tea, then carried everything to the table ready for the meal.

Jake, the whole system really, knows a thing or two about coming back from the dead. After all, they would be dead and buried if not for their deal with Khonshu. They aren't sure how or why this dead person (or creature) is alive again but it's bound to be an overwhelming conflict for al linvovled.

"Don't worry, Jake ... we won't need your matches." It would be so much easier if she let someone write down a summary of her own powers, but that was something Thera avoided at all costs. She trusted Jake with the knowledge, trusted the System as a whole, but she was absolutely not going to document it where any 'take her away for research' types might get ideas. That's only happened twice in her long life but it's more than enough.

Instead and for now, she conjures a small flame above her outstretched hand, lets it dance across her fingers before vanishing again - but then there's the clang and the cry, and she breaks off to roll her eyes.

He perks up when she says his name correctly, and nods. “Yep! That’s me! I’m one of the guides here, I think we saw each other before, briefly. Miss Thera, was it? It’s nice to meet you.”

He holds a hand out for her to shake in case she does want to— but he won’t be offended if she doesn’t. He doesn’t particularly come off as friendly to people right away. “I know it’s late, sometimes I stop by the archives for research or the library since it’s open late. But I was wondering if you had time to tell me about the exhibit at all? I actually don’t know what it’s for… and if not now, maybe tomorrow? There’s time then to grab a pretzel or something and talk? I dunno, it’s up to you…”

"Yes, hello ... " The smile remains as she accepts the handshake, friendly and firm, "Just 'Thera' will do fine." Strictly speaking she's 'Dr Pardalis' while she's working, but it's after hours now and formality stopped mattering around five. "Good to meet you, too - properly!"

One eyebrow lifts as he talks about the archives and library, the sort that knows exactly what he means. "Fellow bookworm, hm?" A chuckle and a nod, "And sure, I can do that - If you're giving tours you need to know what's what." She paused a second, gathering her thoughts, and rubbed her hands together.

Feel free to change pronouns/wordage and switch roles as necessary!

Things said:

"Come on, hit me harder."

"I know you can do better then that!"

"You wanna take a break?"

"Don't stop until you've pinned me, you hear?"

"Quit running away and hit me, coward!!"

"Don't underestimate me."

"I warn you- I don't really play nice."

"If this was a real fight, I'd have broken your arm twice by now."

"Ow!! Lucky shot..."

"Ha, you got me..."

"Ready for round 2?"

"Loser buys drinks/lunch/dinner."

"Where the hell did you learn to fight like that?"

"Come on, one more time, your forms getting better."

Things Done:

[PIN] Sender pins Receiver to the floor, ending a heated sparring session.

[SWAP] Sender and Receiver practice using the other persons signature weapon.

[OBSTACLE] Sender and Receiver run an obstacle course.

[RUN] Sender and Receiver run a few laps around a track.

[SLAM] Sender pins Receiver to the wall, hard.

[SHOT] Sender and Receiver go to a gun range to practice.

[TOSS] Sender throws Receiver during sparring.

[AID] Sender accidentally wounds Receiver during training and grabs the first-aid kit.

[MAGIC] Sender uses their powers during the sparring session to attack Receiver. (if applicable)

Mean Sentences, Vol. 9

The very notion of honorable became a matter of discussion between the serpents coalescing with their hushed whispers traversing through neural networks, glaring lenses scanning and collecting endless information to compare and contrast against the churning sea of thought. The concept of morality was but a faceted crystal in the minds of the mechanical entities, their grasping claws almost seeming to think beyond what is considered morally correct in regards to attaining the end result set forth by their very programming. Aligning the goals of their creation to the mind of their Father was as meticulous as the very metal alloys they were comprised of as the upper two hovered closer as if to inspect the woman.

Octavius, himself, seemed etched in stone at the statement, neither advancing nor retreating as the flood of information fed directly from his subservient assistants. The slightest twitch of his mouth might've been seen, eyes hidden behind the darkened lenses could not relay what thoughts were transpiring behind as words structured themselves with a purposeful selection.

"Otto," Not 'Dr Octavius', a difference strong enough to show that the sigh of it came from a woman too tired for formalities anymore, "There is more straw in that argument than the Gävle Goat." Strawman argument, she meant, though it's unclear whether the source was his own ego or the influence of the sycophants attached to his back.

She was also, diplomatically, not going to point out the crater that was left behind in his laboratory when he miscalculated the exact same thing.

"Well well, look who's back from his long term concert tour of the Galaxy! How you doin', Niner?"

“Thera,” Niner nodded and extended an arm to clasp the woman’s elbow. It was a rather traditional greeting within Mandalorian culture, a symbolic gesture of camaraderie.

His helmet rested under his arm, sitting over his black and green hip plate. The armour had changed since she last saw it, as the Republic’s katarn armour had been traded for Mandalorian beskar’gam.

The greeting did not flow quite so naturally for her but she returned it nonetheless, holding for a a second too long as she glanced over that face. A bit older, maybe more relaxed - or just more settled into himself than he had been when last they met. And, most importantly, in one piece. There was a tightening deep in her gut for more relieved at that than she was going to show.

For a moment he was convinced he’d neatly undone all their progress, taken a knife and severed it with ruthless precision. But catching her eye, Javert thought perhaps there was a point in contesting after all. He nodded; if not for the more compact construction of his neck, it would have resembled a chicken pecking at its feed.

“Yes, I know you’re completely capable— but still, better odds never hurt.” The calculations determining said odds were more complicated than the addition of a single person; in favor of his intervention, a male presence could carry more influence than it warranted. He didn’t see why he shouldn’t use such an advantage to shield someone who had temporarily acquired a promotion to his crew. In terms of his feelings at least, if not in official paperwork.

By this stage, Thera would have thought that he'd know when she was annoyed. He had after all experienced the sharp edge of her tongue often enough to recognise the tone, and also therefore note its absence. Her words had not been a reprimand but a statement, and indeed leaned toward a compliment.

But she herself had forgotten the Capitaine was in no way a creature of nuance. All approaches of the favourable kind needed presenting plainly, or his habit shied toward the opposite. "I know you know," She allowed warmth to gain ground over reserve, half-smile plumping her cheeks to reassure. "It may not have been necessary but it was appreciated."