Shinji Ikari watched the sentient suit of armour before him with the same kind of terrified consideration that a wounded gazelle would give a wandering lioness. He watched the shifting of its legs, the readiness of its body and the surges of blackish mist from its joints that accompanied the armour's heavyweight shuffling of the decaying slab of steel behind it. His eyes followed the slow but intent motions that took the sudden arrival out of the shattered remains of the door it had just broken through, and straight across from Shinji's position.
All the while the Third Child felt his breath hitch in his throat and his knees threaten to buckle. Especially when the metal clad insult to all things reasonable hunched slightly forward in what looked like a preparation to strike.
Interestingly enough, and if he hadn't been a lot more concerned with the rest of its movements (particularly those of its sword arm), Shinji might have recognized the slight inclination of the armour's head as the sign of someone trying to take a better look at something before them, almost as if it were squinting.
But he wasn't, and he didn't. And in response to what was for all intents and purposes a giant threat, the Third Child's fight or flight instinct kicked into full overdrive, offering him its eponymous two choices: of which, as far as Shinji was concerned, only one could ever be correct.
And so, the young man turned tail and ran, setting a new record for the distance he'd just covered a minute ago and not caring in the slightest about his considerable achievement. His attention was better spent elsewhere, after all, for following far too close behind him Shinji heard the sound of what could have easily been mistaken for a freight train. That is, if freight trains made a point out of letting out terrifying roars and smashing everything in their way that wasn't nailed down to the floor. And even some things that were, too.
And while it might be a true fact that the thing following him didn't look nearly as scary as some of the Angels he'd fought in the past had been... once again, Shinji didn't care. For one, it was painfully obvious to anyone with a measure of awareness that here, wherever 'here' was, Shinji didn't have an EVA at his disposal. He didn't have an impenetrable barrier that he could summon at will to keep himself safe from attacks, either, and the young man was fully aware that, judging from the vividness of everything else he'd felt in this place, any damage he sustained wouldn't be limited to the painful nerve feedback that Unit-01 usually repaid his mistakes with. And since the sentient suit of armour seemed intent on causing as much damage as possible to anything in its path...
'I mustn't run away' didn't feel like a mantra to follow in this situation, so the young man continued to focus on fleeing as fast as his legs would allow for what felt like forever, feeling on more than one occasion like he had whatever it was that passed for the breath of the thing almost brushing against the back of his neck. So complete was his focus that when Shinji heard a massive crash somewhere behind him after taking a tight corner, he didn't look back. He dared not look back.
He did use the opportunity to enter the first abandoned room he passed by, though, hoping that breaking line of sight would somehow convince his pursuer that he wasn't worth going after anymore, or that he had managed to leave it in the dust, or something. A very optimistic hope, Shinji realised, but one that was equally as hopeless as trying to outrun an indefatigable suit of armour; besides, it actually seemed to be working.
At least, until the rusted piece of murderous metal broke straight through the room's wall...
...and then kept going. Through one wall, and the next, and the next...
Shinji blinked, his eyes gluing themselves to the monster's exit hole as his body struggled to regain his breath against the door he had just entered. He tried to make sense of what he'd just witnessed to fairly lacking results, as seemed to be the constant, lately. After all, the armour that had spent the last episode of his life trying to maim, smash and generally hurt the young man had just... all but ignored him.
And as he heard the sound of destruction and demolition continue further down the path, Shinji Ikari felt the call of curiosity well up inside him, now that the attempt on his life seemed to have passed.
Now, Shinji was fully aware that going after the thing that had just tried to murder him felt like the absolute worst thing to do, but the Third Child still felt compelled to do so anyway, for some reason. Perhaps it was a case of 'Know Thine Enemy'? The idea that if he could figure out what made his rusty assailant tick he could better avoid it in the future?
Because Shinji knew that he was bound to run into the thing again even if he managed to run away this time. Worst-case-scenario was an apt description for how his luck usually turned out, after all.
'...And if I keep quiet and out of sight it should be fine... Right?'
Shinji wondered, eventually working up the courage to move from his position and carefully follow the trail of destruction up to the source, which he found a dozen or so rooms down the line, still fixated on its only apparent purpose in existence. The armour flailed around, howling madly and using its oversized blade to strike at the wall it faced time and time again, until what remained of it were but a pair of thin pillars standing upright by little more than a whim of gravity. Through all of its wide strikes, though, and much to Shinji's relief, not even one came close to hitting anywhere near his hidden position.
More relevant to the boy's interest, however, was the fact that, even though its head snapped in his direction far enough that it should have been able to see him a few times, or at least suspect something, the berserk hunk of metal made no indication whatsoever that it had actually done so.
'It can't... It can't see me?'
The Third Child waited for a few more instances before deeming his theory plausible and launching an experiment to prove it. Quietly, the young man looked around his position for something he could throw into the room, eventually settling on an Erlenmeyer that had somehow survived the destruction of the formerly intact chamber. Picking it up and preparing it like he would a baseball, Shinji aimed towards the corner of the room that the armour wasn't shredding and let the container fly.
And after a beautiful arc, the Erlenmeyer met the ground and shattered into a million pieces. Soon after, the dark knight snapped towards it and, following a heavyweight arc of its own, began to tear up the opposite end of the room.
Much to the Third Child's satisfaction.
'It can't see me!' the young man thought. 'It guides itself by sound! God, that's such a relief!'
For the first time in what felt like an eternity since he had landed in that strange place, Shinji Ikari had control over some part of his surroundings. And for the first time in just as much time, Shinji Ikari felt a bout of confidence swell within him.
Unfortunately, it was a known fact that Shinji Ikari and overconfidence never mix to offer positive results, a lesson that the Third Child should have learned after his fight with the Twelfth Angel; this time, the consequences of his boldness came about when the young man accidentally knocked loose a precariously balanced piece of plaster as he openly rose from his hiding place, which crashed against the ground with a very audible smash.
Noise that, just like before, Shinji's nemesis didn't fail to pick up on.
"Oh, crap."
Knowing what was coming next, the Third Child wasted no time in breaking into another run, and the game of cat and mouse resumed in earnest; hallway after hallway rushed past Shinji's vision, the young man feeling like his neck was a hair's breadth away from meeting the cold embrace of rusted metal on one too many occasions. Such instances multiplied the more that Shinji felt his legs and lungs burn, the curse of exhaustion steadily taking its toll on his body.
Eventually, it became clear to Shinji that he was done for unless his pursuer somehow messed up again. But as irony would have it, it was the Third Child who stumbled to the ground that time, tripping over his feet after a desperate attempt at avoiding being run over.
A fall that, despite having awarded him the opening he had hoped for, Shinji simply couldn't exploit to any potential.
"Not... like this..." the young man grunted, pushing against the floor and trying to will his body into standing back up. "Gotta find... Asuka..."
But Shinji's tired muscles wouldn't listen to his commands. They had been brought back and forth to their limits many times by that point and they just plain couldn't follow those orders anymore. Hurting all over, the Third Child was forced to turn around onto his back and just stare as the demon that had viciously pursued him up to that point disentangled itself from the mess of bricks and plaster it had skidded into, and resumed its furious charge towards the prone and defenceless Third Child.
It was all Shinji Ikari could do to tightly shut his eyes with a muttered apology and brace himself for the incoming blow...
...
...that never came.
Instead, Shinji felt a sudden wetness strike his arms and head, hundreds upon hundreds of ice-cold pinpricks falling all around him and a sound akin to sizzling taking the place of the metallic creaking he'd been dreading.
Curious and a bit hopeful, the young man opened his eyes and risked a peek through the opening of his arms. What greeted him was fog and rain as far as the eye could see.
Cold, encroaching, blessed, fog and rain.
And all alone, with the sound of heavy rain as its only accompaniment, Shinji Ikari's hysterical laughter echoed far down the fog-ridden grasslands.
-O]|[O-
"...This place looks dreary. Whatever happened to it?"
A figure looked around at its immediate surroundings, its eyes exploring the area where they had unceremoniously landed and trying to get as much information as possible. Said information was sadly limited to the feeling of grass beneath its butt, and of coldish winds blowing across the field, though, for any further insights were blocked by a very deep and encroaching fog that barely allowed vision around a radius of ten metres.
A fog that was a fairly recent addition to the place, the figure quickly realised with a sigh.
"Oh, right. I happened to it. Pretty shocking what a mistake or two can do around here." The figure sighed, rising to its feet. It then huffed and crossed its arms. "But they didn't need to go so far as to kick me out for those teensy, little blunders, either! It's not like they have a perfect track record!"
The latter half was spoken sharply, loud and with a chiding tone to the distance behind, and quickly swallowed by the deep fog. The figure had little doubt that its words had been heard by the intended recipients, however.
For all the good it was going to make in the near future.
"Oh, well. Enough of that!" the figure marked her shift into enthusiasm with a psyching slap on its face. "If this is what I've been handed, this is what I'll work with! Besides, this place might look grey and drab and desolate right now, but it's not like I can't do my part to make it a bit more... vibrant and colourful! Yeah, gotta stay positive!
"Now, what could be vibrant and colourful and work around here..." the figure mused, pondering the options that were available. "Maybe a little garden with flowers over here? And a few houses with flashy fronts over there...?
"Oh, I know! A farm! A farm with many animals, and a cute, red roof and... and... and sunflowers!" The figure snapped its fingers, before spinning around in a flurry of activity, excitedly planning how to turn its vision into a reality. "Oh, yeah! That's perfect! The best way to liven this place up! I should get to work on that as soon as-!"
The figure cut itself off as swiftly as its twirling came to a stop, confused eyes promptly falling on a specific point in the distance hidden behind the layers of impenetrable fog. Its body tensing up in alarm, the figure focused all of its attention on trying to figure out the sudden puzzle that had just sprung up somewhere behind the endless wall of white.
"...What was that?"
What the figure had felt was a faint, tiny and almost imperceptible sensation. A small and insignificant enough presence in the far distance that it wouldn't have thought anything of had it not felt utterly... foreign.
And yet, familiar at the same time.
The fact that it had sounded like someone being tickled to death was also sort of perplexing. Nothing that fit such a description should have been around, after all, unless it was another bizarre result of its actions?
Whatever it was, the figure resolved, it demanded further investigation. The farm and the sunflowers could wait a little bit.
-O]|[O-
The Second Child awoke to the glare of the morning sun shining on her face, and as consciousness returned to her she slowly took notice of her surroundings, an intermittent beep and the sterile white around her reminding her that she was in a hospital room. Room 303, to be precise.
Asuka quickly noticed that her neck and back also ached something fierce, stressing how much of an idiot she was for falling asleep on an uncomfortable plastic chair like she had. Not that Asuka's paid a lot of heed to her body's more than justified complaints.
"Not that dream again..."
The Second Child moaned softly and pinched the bridge of her nose, the unwanted memories clinging to her awareness in spite of her best attempts at banishing them. It had been the same way it always was in the same nightmare that had plagued her dreams for years now, with the same hospital, the same hallway and the same door...
...Followed by the same sight of her mother's lifeless corpse dangling from the ceiling.
Asuka had seen the scenes so many times before that not recalling the vivid details and events of that day was the hard thing to do. She was fairly certain of the fact that she could put to paper her memories of what happened, and that they would be an almost perfect retelling of the day her mother, Kyoko Sohryu, had killed herself.
Many times Asuka dreaded the idea of going to sleep, knowing what it was that would almost certainly be waiting for her, just like her latest attempt had shown. Funnily enough, however, she felt like there had been something slightly different about her usual demons this time. Some small, fleeting detail that had felt... off.
Asuka couldn't figure out where the feeling was coming from, though, but maybe if she tried to remember...
"Oh, you're awake."
A female voice suddenly intruded into Asuka's thoughts, and the redhead's hands flew away from her aching head and towards her sides. A quick look forward revealed that she was with Doctor Akagi, who was checking the monitors connected to the still sleeping Shinji and probably confirming if there had been any changes.
The serious look on the woman's face didn't hint at good news, however.
Completely focused on her work, the Doctor's expression didn't change in the slightest when she extended her left hand towards Asuka while she continued writing with her right, the pace of her work barely hindered by the handicap.
"If you don't mind, might I have my coat back?"
It was then that the redhead noticed the curious lack of Ritsuko's ever-present white garment, the doctor was just wearing the sleeveless top and miniskirt combination that she usually had beneath. At the same time, Asuka felt a sort of fabric foreign to the plugsuit she'd been wearing since the day before brush her finger. She then looked at her shoulders, finding with some surprise that a laboratory coat had been draped over them. Akagi's, obviously.
That answered one question. Blinking the drowsiness away, the Second Child grabbed hold of the coat and passed it over to its rightful owner.
"Sure."
Which the Doctor took and put on without slowing down, once again, using the hand that wasn't busy to write while its pair was trapped in the sleeve.
'That's one ridiculous sight.' Asuka thought with a grimace. 'Guess I know whose face appears under 'workaholic'.'
The girl's gaze then fell to the young man that still slumbered peacefully, her grimace growing for very different reasons.
"Have there been..."
"Any changes? No, I'm afraid not," Ritsuko finished, not taking her eyes off the screen. "The Third Child remains in his perplexing state of prolonged mental inactivity, and we continue to have very little idea as to why that is."
"...Right."
Silence followed Asuka's barely heard reply and both women focused back on their previous activities: while the Doctor tirelessly typed away, Asuka's mind went back to the previous day and continued to stew on 'ifs' and 'coulds' for what could have been hours.
Ultimately, though, the final keystroke that marked the end of Akagi's work caught Asuka's attention, and she saw the woman push the keyboard into the machine with an irritated huff. The doctor then turned to regard Asuka, her expression covering both extremes between exhaustion and exasperation.
"I didn't think you as the sort who would linger at someone's bedside, Second Child, much less for an entire night. Are you concerned?" Ritsuko questioned with a tone that bordered on sarcastic, before it crossed the frontier into the critical. "Or perhaps you feel responsible for his condition? Your performance in the last battle was quite frankly appalling, after all."
The Second Child blinked and looked in the Doctor's direction, her tired and overtaxed brain needing a second to process that she had heard right. The answer was explosive when she did, though.
"What?!" Asuka shot to her feet, the chair crashing against the floor behind her. "What do you know-?!"
If Akagi was in the least intimidated by her outburst, however, her effortless silencing of the redhead before her hid it magnificently.
"I don't need to know. My role is to use my talents to give the Evangelions the best chance at destroying the Angels, which I have been doing in the form of weapons and battle analysis for you to use," Ritsuko shot back, sharp and professional. "Your role, Second, is to use the greatest weapon mankind has ever devised and all the tools at your disposal to slay the Angels. Which, for a supposedly Elite Pilot with a decade of training, you've been failing miserably at."
The woman then motioned to the sleeping Third Child, Asuka's wide eyes slowly following the gesture.
"Quite honestly, your lack of any meaningful contributions to the war effort since the Tenth boggles the mind. Judging from your recent effectiveness, we might as well throw the Third into an Evangelion as he is at this time and hope for the best when the next Angel comes." Ritsuko pulled back her arm and crossed it with its twin. She then fixed the Second Child with a warning stare. "I can't say I understand what it is that Misato was playing at in regards to her responsibilities, but results such as yours should have been unacceptable from the very start. Just as they will be from now on."
Asuka's eyes widened and she felt an icy coldness grab a hold of her chest, finding a multitude of meanings to the Doctor's last words. None of them were pleasant.
"W-What do you mean...?"
"You'll be notified if and when it's required for you to know, Second Child." Akagi coldly replied, breaking Asuka's hollow words and starting to make for the door. "We'll be holding a battery of synch-tests tomorrow. Make sure to be on time.
"Oh, and before I forget," the Doctor spoke once more, pausing briefly at the threshold to glance over her shoulder. "If you're planning on continuing your nightly vigil over the Third Child, I'll ask that you make sure to keep your own health in mind, as well. We can't have fifty percent of our current combat capabilities out of action in case of a sudden Angel attack, no matter their efficiency or... service expectancy."
Her piece said, Ritsuko turned back around and left the room without another word, the soft click of the door's closing sounding like a slam to Asuka's ears. The Second Child remained in place, unmoving and staring at the closed door as if it held the answer to the secrets of the Universe. In truth, however, the girl's mind was a flurry of activity.
Asuka hadn't failed to understand the subtext behind Akagi's words, after all: 'I have your replacement ready. This is your last chance.'
"I-I'm not..." the girl breathed after minutes of silence, ignorant to the shaking of her hands. "I'm not useless..."
Life without EVA... Asuka couldn't even begin to imagine such a thing. What could she do if being an Evangelion Pilot, the only thing that could give her life meaning, was to be out of her reach?
The Second Child shrank into herself, the shaking that had taken over her upper limbs spreading to the rest of her body.
"N-No, she won't..." Asuka continued, her arms rising to grab hold of the back of her head. "She won't take EVA from me. I'm Elite! I'm important! That bitch doesn't know the first thing of what she's talking about!"
The Second Child fell into frenzied muttering, rebuttal after justification after excuse coming out of her mouth at irregular intervals. The shaking of her body worsened in spite of her efforts and, for the longest time, it looked like she was about to fall into a panic attack.
At least, until she had an epiphany.
Clearly, Akagi's threats were just her trying to shift the blame of her own incompetence: battle analysis? The fraud hadn't had a clue about what any Angel did since the Twelfth, barely offering anything combat useful even in the times that she did! Weapons development? The Positron Rifle she had been given for the last battle couldn't handle the one thing it was meant to do!
Was it supposed to be her fault that NERV Japan couldn't get its shit in order? Was it her fault that she had to work with faulty equipment and useless support?
'No, that's impossible. Ridiculous! Getting rid of the best pilot on their roster would be the fastest way for Humanity to kick the bucket! My performance is fine. If I'd been given half the advantages that Ikari and the Doll had, I'd handled most of the Angels by myself, easy! I'm sure of it!'
Eventually settling on how her removal from the active roster couldn't happen, how it wouldn't happen, the redhead uncurled from her semi-foetal position and stood upright once more. Asuka then turned around and narrowed her eyes at the slumbering Third Child before she began to make her way towards his bedside, her fears gradually making way for boiling anger.
"It's all your fault that they're doubting me, you know?! You and your goddamn hero complex!" The Second Child seethed, leaning forward to grab Shinji's shoulders and shaking the unconscious boy like a ragdoll. "I didn't need your help! I could have handled that Angel on my own, somehow!"
But no response came from Shinji, other than the light slapping against the mattress of the myriad cables connected to him. The Third Child remained unmoving, for all intents and purposes looking like he was blissfully dreaming.
A fact that did little to temper Asuka's ire.
"Not going to defend yourself?" the redhead hissed, her head dropping until it was mostly hidden by her bangs. "...Tch, it's better that way. You'd only say you're sorry, anyway, like always. You spineless wimp."
A small part of her did wish to hear those two words spoken by the sleeping boy, but it was easily swallowed by the wave of anger and frustration washing over the redhead.
"...Fine, you just keep sleeping and let us do all the work. I'll show you, Ikari." Asuka vowed, clasping her hands into tight fists before pushing herself off the bed. "Just you watch. I'll show all of them how a real Pilot does it!"
Allowing herself barely more than a final glance at the sleeping Pilot, the Second Child briskly turned away and made her way towards the door but, for a moment, and before leaving the room, Asuka lingered at the threshold. She felt like she was forgetting something, like there was something important she'd been doing before Akagi had interrupted her. However, and despite the redhead's best efforts, she couldn't recall what it was that she was overlooking.
In the end, and with an angry shake of her head, the Second Child resolved to ignore it. Whatever it was, it couldn't be that important if she'd forgotten about it and, for right now, Asuka desperately needed a shower and a clean set of clothes.
The Second Child had a top position to reclaim.
-O]|[O-
"It is impossible to retrieve the Lance of Longinus now."
"Why did you use it?!"
"That was unacceptably reckless! The EVA Series isn't even complete yet! Why do you risk the fulfilment of the Project in such a manner?!"
"Destroying the Angels is our top priority," Gendo Ikari spoke into the circle of pitch-black monoliths, feeling irritated at needing to listen to their foolish prattle for minutes on end. "There was no other way."
"No other way?!" SEELE-05 exploded, like he'd been doing since the start of the meeting. "You'd better come up with a more believable excuse!"
"Indeed," the ill-humoured voice of Keel Lorenz came from within the monolith of SEELE-01, breaking the silence he had maintained until that point. "Your latest actions belie a lack of respect for the will of this Committee, Ikari."
"Everything I've done, I've done with the completion of the Project in mind," Gendo replied, keeping his speech tempered and smooth. "Your doubt is misplaced."
"...Is that so?" the Head of SEELE countered, disbelief all but dripping from his question. "Hmph, we shall see."
"Incidentally, the reports speak of one of your Pilots resulting incapacitated in the last battle, Ikari," SEELE-06 interjected, sounding as displeased as the rest of his peers. "They also mention that Unit-01 is now without an active Pilot. Does that factor into your so-called plans, as well? Or should it be seen as a blemish in your management?"
"I'd put my weight on the latter," SEELE-09 spat. "As such, and without meaning to wander excessively from our current discussion... perhaps we should send another Pilot to NERV? There's clearly not enough depth in the active Pilot pool as it is, and we can ill afford any more mistakes."
"The situation is under control, and we expect to return to usual operations within the week," the Commander quickly cut in, knowing, just as the members of SEELE did, that he was lying through his teeth. "Should the unlikely need arise, we'll procure any necessary replacements through the usual channels."
"Your channels, you mean?" SEELE-06 shot back. "In case it hasn't been made clear, Ikari, this council is deeply distrustful of anything you might have had a hand in."
"And yet, I've laboured restlessly to bring the Committee's will into completion. Standing where we are, at the gates of our greatest triumph, I see not the reason why doubt is laid at my feet."
"You dare claim as much after knowingly putting the Lance in orbit of the Moon?!" SEELE-05 exploded once more. "Do you take us for fools, Ikari?!"
Like a signal shot, and as if they had been waiting for the opportunity to pounce, the entirety of the Human Instrumentality Committee launched into a combined mix of accusations and expletives, all semblance of order and professionalism quickly thrown by the wayside. They turned into rabid dogs sensing a threat to their safety, just as they had when Gendo Ikari had first entered the meeting.
All but one of them.
"Enough." The voice of Keel Lorenz boomed through the chamber, and the monoliths of SEELE fell silent simultaneously. "This derailing will get us nowhere, and I'll have no more of it. The Committee will now discuss how to best adapt to these unforeseen circumstances. Your presence is no longer needed, Commander. Dismissed."
With nothing but a crisp nod, Gendo Ikari did as told and terminated his connection to the conference. Shortly after, he was sitting in his gargantuan office, behind his immense table...
...and sporting a huge smirk.
"It was too much to hope for that they would believe our excuses."
Gendo stared through the corner of his eye at his Sub-Commander, who was finally allowing himself a tired sigh and to rest from the tense position he always kept during the meetings with the Committee. The Commander had wondered for a long time as to the reason why his Sensei felt the need to be present for each and every one of the Council's abundant gatherings, considering that none of the members of SEELE ever had any questions to ask of him; he might as well have been a decorative plant for all the impact Fuyutsuki had during the conferences, and it wasn't like Gendo had ever planned on hiding any information from his Sensei.
Even if theirs was an alliance of convenience, the two men were fully committed to their plans, after all. And both parts knew it.
"It doesn't matter what the old men believe. Let them play their game all that they want, and trust that they have control over anything for just as long."
"...Bold words for one in your position."
"You were always the cautious sort, Sensei."
"I prefer the word 'sensible'," Fuyutsuki grunted with a shake of his head. "Do you think they will send a Pilot of their own?"
"A spy, you mean?" Gendo scoffed. "No, they shouldn't have any on hand. Even if they did, I don't know what it would change. Our victory is all but assured."
The Commander couldn't help a smirk at the sudden tensing of his Sensei's body.
"Then...?"
"Yes, the report came in this morning." Ikari elaborated, producing a manila folder from one of the desk's drawers and placing it in the other man's awaiting hands. "Akagi found nothing within Unit-01 that would hinder our plans."
Fuyutsuki sighed once again as he opened and began to inspect the document, although exhaustion had nothing to do with his actions at that point.
"...Assuming that we can trust her words. Or her actions."
"She won't betray us, Akagi's too invested in the Plan to back off now," Gendo reassured him, his words growing serious once more. "And even if she weren't, she's not… irreplaceable."
At his last words and meaningful pause, Fuyutsuki shifted his eyes from the contents of the folder and towards Ikari's back. For a long second the Professor stared at his former student, seeing not for the first time someone other than the man he'd grown to tolerate sitting on the Commander's chair: an unrepentant manipulator willing to use anyone and anything around him until they were nothing but dust, if it meant advancing their personal objectives. A man that had also been seemingly blind to the dangerous glint in Doctor Akagi's eye.
The elderly scholar made no mention of his thoughts, however, for he was more than aware of how deep his own sins ran. Heaven had no place for men of their ilk, which is why they planned on foregoing their seats.
'Would Yui approve of this, I wonder? Of us both?'
"Do as you will, Ikari." Fuyutsuki allowed, clicking the folder shut and making a point of settling back into his usual position. "Just remember that Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned."