03-26-2014, 12:56 AM
Takeo set his ivory chopsticks on the matching rest beside his plate, collecting his thoughts for a moment as he chewed his well-seasoned duck. You never knew what you'd get in the Rose Pagoda - the kitchen seemed to be complete with a revolving door in the back - so he appreciated the attempt at recreating an old familiar dish. Salty, but familiar. He didn't open his mouth until every grain of rice was swallowed, and then only after carefully wiping his mouth and cleansing his pallet with a fresh swig of water.
"Whether or not he told me anything,"
Takeo said, hands folding calmly in his lap, "You know I can't share any of it with you."
Across the table, at a span of about 7.5 thousand kilometers, Hara Ushijima sat virtually planted behind her end of the table. Though the holo was not high-def, it was easy enough to make out the seal of the Patron of Dominence IV imprinted in imperial red on every white porcelain plate, mug and bowl projected before her. A cleanly shaven head and a stern face - untouched by makeup, surgery or enhancement - declared her a staunch Fundamentalist. She wore every one of her sixty three years with pride and nobility, though a healthy diet and impossibly clean lifestyle would lead most to believe her far younger - even in her garishly outdated and overelaborate blazer and gold-piped v-neck. He had never seen her in anything less austere - in fact, for her, this was downright spartan.
"Of course not,"
the woman answered in an only barely discernibly feminine baritone; she was obviously once married to- and divorced from the military before donning this dubious duty. The Patron waved off his comments as she might a passing fly around her bowl, which she now neglected with perfect Japanese decorum, and trudged on. "I wouldn't expect you to answer on-air regardless."
A certain set to her eyebrow let him know what a waste of a breath she thought this conversation to be. "I need whatever intel you can give me, however, Privelege. You owe me that."
She stared. "The Americans have you on camera walking hand in hand with their darling explorer. Surely you talked about more than the Ballet and how you would braid each other's hair each night. You must know you look like a fucking baka, Tokeo, bowing and scraping for that, that… that..."
Quite the mouth on the new Queen of DIV.
"That celebrity?"
Takeo offered - one of her favorite obscenities - along with a slim smile. ""He'll be gone by morning, along with all the other stars," remember?"
Takeo quoted, and felt a pang of satisfaction as the older woman's lips pursed in obvious recognition. He shrugged it off. "Listen, Ushijima-san, Trano's supporters can spin whatever story they want. D-IV will only stand firmer behind us with every biting remark the Americans make. So let them squawk."
"That's not the point!"
"No, the point is this,"
Takeo said, and this time he was not smiling, "The Ascendancy has His eye on the gaijin, and the others scratching at his door. If He wants to give them a glimpse behind the curtain, that is His concern, and none of yours. Yours is not to ask questions - nor is it mine - but to follow orders."
"That!"
Hara barked, and her projected self actually did laugh, if you could call it that. It was more of a dry-heave, abrupt and hardly audible. "Coming from you? The self-proclaimed Bastard of Tokyo. When did Tokeo learn to obey?"
How had this woman come so far in politics? If she was not the puppet, she played one well. "Tokyo is not Moscow,"
"No argument there,"
Hara uttered, waving away an apparition who had appeared on her end with a fresh teacup and saucer in hand. It floated away and vanished on the digital ether from whence it came. "We'll do it your way."
The Patron fished under the table and brought out a wallet, which she dropped with a comforting thud on the desk in front of her. As it sprang to life, several dimensional graphs and charts unfolded in the air between them. "If you can remember my last message, I have several concerns you can pass on to the Ascendancy on behalf of your Dominance, assuming that is not too much to ask of the Privelege …"
Takeo motioned for another sake - it was going to be a long night.
Edited by Takeo, Mar 26 2014, 01:15 AM.
"Whether or not he told me anything,"
Takeo said, hands folding calmly in his lap, "You know I can't share any of it with you."
Across the table, at a span of about 7.5 thousand kilometers, Hara Ushijima sat virtually planted behind her end of the table. Though the holo was not high-def, it was easy enough to make out the seal of the Patron of Dominence IV imprinted in imperial red on every white porcelain plate, mug and bowl projected before her. A cleanly shaven head and a stern face - untouched by makeup, surgery or enhancement - declared her a staunch Fundamentalist. She wore every one of her sixty three years with pride and nobility, though a healthy diet and impossibly clean lifestyle would lead most to believe her far younger - even in her garishly outdated and overelaborate blazer and gold-piped v-neck. He had never seen her in anything less austere - in fact, for her, this was downright spartan.
"Of course not,"
the woman answered in an only barely discernibly feminine baritone; she was obviously once married to- and divorced from the military before donning this dubious duty. The Patron waved off his comments as she might a passing fly around her bowl, which she now neglected with perfect Japanese decorum, and trudged on. "I wouldn't expect you to answer on-air regardless."
A certain set to her eyebrow let him know what a waste of a breath she thought this conversation to be. "I need whatever intel you can give me, however, Privelege. You owe me that."
She stared. "The Americans have you on camera walking hand in hand with their darling explorer. Surely you talked about more than the Ballet and how you would braid each other's hair each night. You must know you look like a fucking baka, Tokeo, bowing and scraping for that, that… that..."
Quite the mouth on the new Queen of DIV.
"That celebrity?"
Takeo offered - one of her favorite obscenities - along with a slim smile. ""He'll be gone by morning, along with all the other stars," remember?"
Takeo quoted, and felt a pang of satisfaction as the older woman's lips pursed in obvious recognition. He shrugged it off. "Listen, Ushijima-san, Trano's supporters can spin whatever story they want. D-IV will only stand firmer behind us with every biting remark the Americans make. So let them squawk."
"That's not the point!"
"No, the point is this,"
Takeo said, and this time he was not smiling, "The Ascendancy has His eye on the gaijin, and the others scratching at his door. If He wants to give them a glimpse behind the curtain, that is His concern, and none of yours. Yours is not to ask questions - nor is it mine - but to follow orders."
"That!"
Hara barked, and her projected self actually did laugh, if you could call it that. It was more of a dry-heave, abrupt and hardly audible. "Coming from you? The self-proclaimed Bastard of Tokyo. When did Tokeo learn to obey?"
How had this woman come so far in politics? If she was not the puppet, she played one well. "Tokyo is not Moscow,"
"No argument there,"
Hara uttered, waving away an apparition who had appeared on her end with a fresh teacup and saucer in hand. It floated away and vanished on the digital ether from whence it came. "We'll do it your way."
The Patron fished under the table and brought out a wallet, which she dropped with a comforting thud on the desk in front of her. As it sprang to life, several dimensional graphs and charts unfolded in the air between them. "If you can remember my last message, I have several concerns you can pass on to the Ascendancy on behalf of your Dominance, assuming that is not too much to ask of the Privelege …"
Takeo motioned for another sake - it was going to be a long night.
Edited by Takeo, Mar 26 2014, 01:15 AM.