You extend a hand.

"Lend me your phone, would you?"

Nabi blinks. "Sorry, what?"

"I didn't bring mine, and nobody dressed like you wouldn't have one."

"Why do you want it?" It's the most uncertain she's looked this entire conversation.

"I need to contact Lord Azazel, obviously," you reply. "I can't accept that sort of offer out of hand, y'know?"

A flicker of confusion across her face. Looks like you were right: she does think you're more important than you are. It'd be amusing to embarrass her by revealing the depth of her folly – but best not to, in the end. The aegis of the Grigori is a useful tool, and one you'd prefer not to discard until you're mighty enough not to need it, if indeed you ever want to discard it at all.

You haven't quite figured that out yet.

"Very well," Nabi says, after a second or two of awkward silence, "here you go."

She plucks a phone from her pocket, and hands it to you.

"I'm sure you'll understand if I keep this private," you say, and she nods.

Your fingers flicker into a pattern that would leave most observers convinced they had moved through one another, and with a soft whisper of Light you erect a minor privacy illusion around you; the sort that blurs lips and muffles sound. It was mildly tempting to modify it to replace every word you spoke with one of Ruri's sighs instead, but that feels a little crude even for you.

You punch in a specific set of digits that aren't, in fact, part of Azazel's phone number, and it starts to dial. The Grigori have known stakes in several mortal and supernatural businesses around the world—and many more private investments that you're not going to reveal any connection to—and rather than give away Azazel's personal contact details to Nabi if she's careful enough to watch what you type, you're going to let one of them transfer your call instead.

"Red Bull Marketing Department, Mark speaking. How may I help you?"

"Put me through to Mr. Zel," you say. "Tell him it's Raynare, about the Japanese arrangement."

It feels almost strange to refer to yourself by your actual name, but the ward will protect it, and fuck using Jehiel instead.

"One moment, please."

The delay before you hear Azazel's voice is thankfully short.

"Raynare?" he asks. "Have you decided to return already?"

He sounds pleased, and you can't control the traitorous flutter of your heart even though you know it's only because Azazel is professionally fond of all his subordinates and not because he cares for you in particular.

"Not yet, my lord," you say. It's easy to say you're unsure when it isn't Azazel asking, but you had to concentrate not to say yes. "I'm calling about something else; I was approached by a youkai—half-kitsune, half perelesnyk—who said she was part of Yasaka's spiritual research division. Apparently Yasaka's looking into Sacred Gears at the moment, and the youkai wants me to extract a Sacred Gear for her to study. Her name is Nabi, if that means anything to you."

"Oh? How interesting." His voice ripples down your spine. "I believe I've read a few of her papers on psychic chirurgy. She has some interesting insights."

"She seems to be working independently of the rest of the department, I suspect for the obvious reasons, and she implied that Yasaka would be very interested in the work she's planning. Enough to potentially get the Grigori an audience with Yasaka when presenting the findings," you continue. "Whether or not Nabi's exaggerating, I didn't feel comfortable accepting or rejecting an offer with those sorts of political implications on your behalf."

Especially given what happened the last time I made unilateral decisions, you do not say.

"You did well to bring this to me, Raynare," Azazel says. "Accept her offer on our behalf. I've a group in mind to handle it, but they won't be available for a couple of days, so if you have nothing pressing, could you fill in until then? Don't do anything about the ritual itself, but I imagine there are a few things Nabi needs to do first."

Oh.

Of course.

There's no way Azazel is going to let you handle this. You're the girl who fucked up her last assignment twice over, who doesn't have the power or the skill to be the face of the Grigori even for simple scientific collaboration, and who says herself that she isn't part of the Faction at the moment. Hell, just being allowed to fuck around until the real Fallen get here is really a reward for being a good girl and calling it in.

"Yes, my lord," you say. Your voice is perfectly steady; happy, even, as if there's nothing you'd love more than to be of service to him.

The worst part is that you're not entirely lying.

"Excellent," he says. "I'll contact you again when it's time to hand off the mission. Thank you, Raynare."

With that, he hangs up.

You lift the phone from your ear, swiping absently through settings to delete the call out of habit, and hand it back to Nabi as you dismiss the privacy ward.

"Excellent news!" you say, voice as bright as your smile and twice as much a lie. "Lord Azazel has decided to accept your offer, and a team of our best scientists will be here by the end of the week. Until then, you're stuck with me, but we can work on whatever needs doing that isn't the ritual itself."

"That's… good," she says, a touch too slowly for you to believe. "I am yet to secure the requisite Sacred Gear for my—our—experiments, and I would be glad for your assistance in capturing it."

"Oh?" A chance to stretch your legs would be nice, and Nabi probably won't stab you in the back during the process. She has no reason to.

"Yes. A priest of Omoikane, at a shrine in Kyoto's north, has recently manifested a Gear that is apparently called Apocalypse Menagerie. I do not yet know what it does, but it takes the form of a pouch, and the priest has been seen plucking ofuda out of it. It seems highly illogical that it's restricted to just Japanese talismans, but for all the certainty my informants can give me, he may just be using it as portable storage."

You made a careful study of Sacred Gears prior to your mission in Kuoh—though obviously not careful enough, given you couldn't tell theBoosted Gear from a fucking Twice Critical—and you've never heard of Apocalypse Menagerie, or indeed any Sacred Gear that manifests as a pouch. How… wonderful.

Normally you wouldn't want to get anywhere near an unknown Sacred Gear user, human or not, but this is the mission you have been entrusted by Azazel, and you will not fail.

Part of not failing, however, is making sure Nabi isn't planning to set off a civil war in Kyoto.

"Are you sure it's, shall we say… advisable to be attacking a Shinto priest in the middle of a Shinto city? Kingdom of youkai or not, that sounds to me like a bad idea."

Nabi frowns at you, as if insulted. "I chose him very carefully. Lord Inari is unhappy with Omoikane at the moment, and has been for the past decade or so. I cannot profess to understand the reasons behind their feud—only someone like Lady Yasaka might know—but Lord Inari will welcome any blow struck against Omoikane, and shield us and this city from retribution. Two other shrines to Omoikane in Kyoto have already been forced to close by a string of rather unfortunate luck."

Huh.

"Fair enough. We should get together later tonight to plan this thing, or just plain get it done if I like the plan you inevitably already have enough. You know where my apartment is, I'm sure, so I'll meet you on the street out the front at nine?"

"I was intending to start as soon as possible," Nabi says, because of course she is.

"Well, far be it from me to interfere, but which do you think will go down better with Ruri: waking up to find her naked lover talking with her sister about attacking a priest in the name of science, or waking up to find that lover gone entirely without a word?"

And there's the resurgence of the jaw twitch.

You lean forward, voice low as if imparting some great secret. "I'll give you a hint: it's a trick question. Unless, of course, you want to give her the impression that you bought me with her body. Which would probably be kinder to her self-esteem than the implication she's not even worth a goodbye."

You can't even call that a twitch. That's a straight-up spasm.

Straightening, you shrug with lazy insouciance. "But hey, what do I know?"

"You've made your point." Her tone is as flat as her expression. "I will be there at nine."

"Pleasure doing business with you," you reply.

And speaking of pleasure…

Standing, you turn back toward the bedroom and toss a wave over your shoulder. "See you round, Nabi."

You're polite enough to wait until the door clicks open and shut before you start working on waking Ruri up.

Some time later, the foxgirl stretches out beside you, breathless. "Mmm… that was fun."

"Only fun?" You arch an eyebrow. "I feel insulted."

"I was trying not to inflate your ego," Ruri says. "I don't know if you noticed, but after last night, I can say for certain that it's rather impressive."

"Now I am insulted." She's grinning, and you're tempted to show her exactly how well you can wipe it off – but you suspect that's probably the point. Silly Ruri. That's not how this works. "Mostly by that attempt to provoke me."

You pat her on the head, right between the ears. "Better luck next time."

Ruri pouts—it seems to be her trademarked expression—and bats your hand away. "I'm not a kid, Sabetha!"

"I have dresses older than you are, Ruri," you reply, voice rippling with laughter. "A little condescension is only to be expected."

"...really?"

"You're a two-tails," you say, stroking one—very fluffy—appendage by way of emphasis. Ruri shivers in response. "Not even two centuries old. I have a gown and accompanying hose tucked away that I wore to infiltrate King Arthur's court. The fashion back then was terrible, but it has sentimental value to me."

As a hybrid, she might age differently, but you're not supposed to know that.

"How old are you, then?" she asks softly. "I can certainly tell you're… experienced."

You suspect—based on your conversation with Nabi—that the hesitation is out of shame – just not shame about what the two of you have been doing.

"I don't know for certain," you reply, brushing her shoulder with your own as you shrug. "I'd need to consult Heaven's calendar to be sure, assuming they haven't scratched me out of it, and that's obviously a little difficult. I spent some number of years up there before setting foot on Earth for the first time, and that was around when humanity started playing around with iron properly. The best estimate I can give you is somewhere between three and three and a half thousand years."

Ruri blinks. "Wow. Doesn't that make you older than even Lord Inari? How come you only have two wings?"

Your hand clenches on her tail involuntarily, and she yelps before you force yourself to let go. "I predate most of the pantheons anyone can name, actually. A lot of Angels—Fallen or not—do. And like them, I'm stuck the way God made me."

Well, technically that's a lie, given what you've been discovering lately. But this is pillowtalk, not a day to share deep and impossible secrets.

"I'm surprised you don't know that," you continue. "Angels are fixed and perfect. Those are the principles that define our existence. Or are supposed to, anyway."

Ruri flushes. "I've never had much of a chance to learn things like that. There were more important things to study back in R—back home, and ever since we moved to Kyoto, my sister's been too busy to teach me."

"You didn't find another teacher, or do it yourself?"

"No," she says, very firmly. "I tried that. It didn't work."

You sense a story there.

Suddenly, Ruri brightens, almost launching herself up off the pillow as she twists her whole body to face you. It takes a while for your eyes to reach hers.

"I know! You could teach me!"

What.

"It'd be great! I bet you know all sorts of things about the supernatural world. I'll be a diligent student!" She leans down to whisper in your ear, and the rest of her body makes her proximity rather clear. "A very diligent student."