The dining room is filled with diplomats in tailored suits and long dresses. They sit together in small groups, murmuring around champagne flutes and whispering behind gloved hands. Mariemaia weaves her way between each gossiping table, hunting for her guardian amidst the other summit attendees. She feels the lingering stares of the men and women she pass, heavy between her shoulder blades.

At one point she spies a dark tousled head, but it disappears into the shadows before she can confirm it's a wayward Gundam pilot.

She finally spots Lady Une seated near the open balcony doors. She slows her pace, meandering over to the empty seat across from Lady Une. A waiter materializes from the sidelines to pull the chair out for her and fill her empty glass with chilled water. Lady Une looks up from her menu as she takes her seat.

"I missed you at lunch," she states.

Mariemaia shrugs, reaches for the menu. "I was tired and took a nap." She keeps her chin tucked but lets her eyes roam the room. "They remind me of vultures."

"Because they are," Lady Une replies. "They're bored out of their minds and looking for the next big scandal."

"And they're hoping I'll provide it?"

"Don't think too highly of yourself. They're hoping anyone will provide it. Except themselves." Lady Une takes a sip of red wine. "Let me know when you're ready to order."

"How were the meetings?"

"Tedious." Mariemaia looks up to see Lady Une smiling at her. "I hear you scared off the aide."

"He was also tedious."

Lady Une raises a hand, casually signaling one of the wait staff to approach. They place their orders and Mariemaia lets her gaze rove the tables again. There are several familiar faces. She recognizes the delegates from L3, with Ambassador Solov's gray head towering over them even while seated. Minister Yergin is across the room, heatedly discussing something with a blonde haired young man.

"Looking for anyone in particular?"

"I'm surprised Miss Relena isn't here," she admits.

Lady Une's lips thin slightly before she reaches once more for her wine glass. "The Vice Foreign Minister is tied up."

Mariemaia frowns, mulling the words over. She opens her mouth to question further, but there's the sudden sound of breaking glass. Almost as one, all the heads in the dining room turn to look at Minister Yergin's table. The Minister is on his feet now, face red beneath his light brown hair. She can't see his companion's face, but the blonde man's shoulders appear loose and easy. He lifts a hand, makes a gesture, and Mariemaia notices the men standing near the windows take a step back though their gazes remain fastened on Minister Yergin's table.

"And now the vultures have their entertainment," Lady Une murmurs. She sighs heavily and Mariemaia darts a questioning look at her. "Excuse me."

Mariemaia watches as Lady Une makes her way stoically across the dining room. She has to crane a bit to see around the Education Minister's head as he leans into the aisle for a better view. Lady Une stops at Minister Yergin's table where a waiter is busy cleaning up the Minister's broken wine glass.

"Minister, is something the matter?" The voice she uses is the Preventers voice. The one that usually makes her agents quell in their standard-issue boots. Mariemaia resists the urge to stand to see better.

"It's my fault, I'm afraid," the blonde man interjects. His voice is calm, self-deprecating, but it carries across the silent dining room. Mariemaia recognizes it immediately, though she's had limited interactions with him. Quatre Raberba Winner. "I meant no offence, Minister Yergin. Please, have a seat. We can discuss this matter further." The man turns, smiles up at Lady Une. "Thank you for your concern, Lady Une, but please, enjoy your meal. Our chef is most excellent."

Lady Une nods. By the time she returns to the table their meals have been deposited and the dining room has resumed its low-level of chatter. Mariemaia notes that several eyes still drift to Minister Yergin's table, hers included. The Minister has resumed his seat and is busy downing a new glass of wine. The Winner heir appears unconcerned, leaning back in his chair and shoulders still loose.

Mariemaia files the observation away for later examination.

. . ... . .

"Isn't this all a bit…much?" Mariemaia asks. Lady Une looks up from where she's heating hot water for tea. Mariemaia waves her arm around expansively, trying to indicate the entirety of the suite as well as the grandiose hotel they're stationed in. "All of this."

Lady Une pulls the kettle from the stove top and pours the water into two porcelain teacups. Mariemaia wrinkles her nose as her guardian carries them over to the table and sets them down. "This just proves my point," she adds.

"The Winners have a lot of money," Lady Une states. She curls onto the sofa, feet tucked neatly under her and hair loose around her shoulders. It's the youngest Mariemaia has seen her look in weeks, maybe months. "How they choose to use it isn't the concern of Preventers."

Mariemaia sips at the chamomile tea, studies the lit up city through the large glass doors. It's hard to reconcile this colony with the ones back in L3, the one where her mother died or the one where Dekim did his recruiting. The Barton Foundation hadn't been poor, she'd never had to worry about running water or electricity outages, but they'd never flaunted it either.

"It seems suspicious…" she says, voice slow. She sees Lady Une turn to look at her in the glass's reflection. "All those shipments going missing…Were any of them from L4?"

Lady Une's reflection raises its eyebrows and the teacup. "Are you suggesting the Winner family had something to do with the disappearing shipments?"

"Maybe that's why Yergin was so upset. That aide said that the Winners had issues after their satellite was destroyed, maybe they turned to pirating instead."

Lady Une snorts into her cup of tea. She reaches over, runs careful fingers through Mariemaia's hair. "Now, that's a theory." Mariemaia turns to glare at her and Lady Une manages to corral her grin into a lopsided smile. "The Winners are pacifists."

"That doesn't mean they can't be thieves, too."

"It doesn't," she agrees amiably. "Drink your tea."

"Well then, what do you think the argument was about at dinner?" She takes another sip of the chamomile tea while she waits for Lady Une to respond.

Lady Une simply shakes her head, and unfolds herself from the sofa. She stretches before picking up the empty tea cup. "I highly doubt Quatre Winner is the one stealing resources."

Mariemaia eyes her distrustfully as she crosses the room to the kitchenette to clean up the tea cups. "Is that a personal opinion, or a professional one?"

"Both." She can hear the sink running. "Wash your cup when you've finished. We have an early day tomorrow."

Mariemaia remains seated after Lady Une has moved into the bedroom closest to the door. She doesn't miss that her guardian neglected to answer her question. She frowns down into the yellow ochre of the tea, as though she can find the answers in the scattered tea leaves dusting the bottom. The tea remains stubbornly mute.

. . ... . .

Mariemaia accompanies Lady Une dutifully to the first conference of the day – a three hour lecture on education reforms headed by Minister Kurzin. He stands at the podium, steel gray hair combed in a severe part and blue suit complementing his dark complexion. Mariemaia amuses herself by drawing mental comparisons between him and the teachers back at school. He reminds her, faintly, of Dr. Arthav with his no-nonsense lecturing, but he poses behind the podium as though he's commanding troops not educating the masses.

"Was he in the war too?" Mariemaia whispers to Lady Une.

Her guardian glances at her, inclines her head slightly. "He was in charge of the southern bases for the Alliance."

"He looks like a soldier, not an educator."

When she looks back to the stage she sees that Minister Kurzin has focused on her and Lady Une. His gaze is dark and unflinching, it reminds her a bit of Wufei's. "Is there a question?" he asks, voice carrying over the silent heads of dignitaries.

Lady Une offers the minister a warm smile. It doesn't reach her eyes, but Mariemaia isn't sure if Minister Kurzin will notice from the stage area. "Not at all, Minister. I merely wanted to get the opinion of the one most directly affected by your proposals."

Almost as one, the heads of the other dignitaries turn to face their seats. Mariemaia keeps her chin up and her fingers tighten around the pen she'd been using to doodle with. Minister Kurzin's gaze shifts to her. Mariemaia has met him twice before at different functions and she can feel his gaze like a weight on her shoulders.

"What an enlightened idea. Miss Khushrenada," he states. The few heads who had not turned, now whip around to size her up. It's been five years and she still feels like the new exhibit at the local zoo. "You are a student of our current educational system. What are your thoughts?"

Mariemaia clears her throat, sets her pen down. "I believe your proposal has a couple of serious flaws." Lady Une squeezes her arm out of sight of the others, but Mariemaia disregards her. "It's not your fault. Most educators fall into this same trap. You want to present history, but you decide to do so from your own perspective, which isn't very historical, is it? You're watering down all the intricacies of war, boiling them down to the bare minimum so that you can present one side as good and one side as bad. It has been my personal experience that that is rarely the case."

The lecture hall erupts into whispered conversations and Minister Kurzin's expression is unreadable on the stage. Above the whispers comes a solitary clapping. Mariemaia's eyes dart to the sound and there, four rows up and across the room is the unmistakable shine of white-blonde hair. Her clapping doesn't trail off so much as stop abruptly. The whispers intensify and the girl settles back into her chair, looking like the queen of the world holding court. Mariemaia hears Lady Une mutter under her breath, but it's too quiet for her to understand the words.

"I couldn't have said it better myself," Dorothy Catalonia calls. "Looks like there's still hope for this new generation after all, doesn't it, Minister?"

"Yes, Miss Catalonia." Minister Kurzin clears his throat, looks at the clock hanging over the door. "Unfortunately, it appears that it's time for the mid-morning break."

"Pity," Dorothy states, voice clear and carrying. "It was just getting interesting too."

Mariemaia watches as her cousin gets to her feet, smooths invisible wrinkles from her skirt. The assembled delegates step out of her way as she glides past them out of the row and down the stairs. Mariemaia watches, but Dorothy doesn't look her way again.

"Come along," Lady Une says, standing. Mariemaia joins her as they maneuver through the crowd and to the passage outside. The hall is mostly empty, the majority of delegates still gossiping or arguing in raised voices over the Minister's plan inside the lecture hall. "Enjoy yourself?"

"I didn't realize Dorothy would be here."

"Yes," Lady Une replies. "She usually attends the summits when she's bored. I'm sure you'll see her again before we're done here."

Mariemaia shrugs, ignores Lady Une's knowing look. She scans the thin crowd idly, because she's bored, not because she's hoping to catch a glimpse of her cousin's white-blonde hair again.