When Miyamoto saw the lab's double doors shut behind Giovanni, she gave a disparaging scoff. Ariana was still crying softly. Miyamoto moved behind her and clapped her hands on the woman's shoulders.
"Hey...Hey…" she said, "It's a family of bastards. You can't take it personal."
"I just don't understand what happened." Ariana gave a mighty sniff and looked straight up at the ceiling, trying to stop the tears. She wiped gently under her eyes, then went back to working the computer.
"I feel like this project is giving me whiplash. It's on then off then on then...over? I guess?" Another sniff. "And he was just so fucking cold about it."
Ariana's last complaint made Miyamoto laugh out loud.
"You said it."
Ariana twisted in her chair to look up at Miyamoto, calling to mind for Miyamoto the first time they'd discussed this project.
"Why'd he pull the plug?" she asked.
Miyamoto released the woman's shoulders. She turned around and sat on the edge of the table, looking down at Ariana. The woman's face was puffy. All her makeup had been wiped away. Miyamoto raised her thumb and licked it, then wiped a crumb of mascara from Ariana's cheek.
Ariana blushed.
"I suppose he thinks he'll make more money this way," Miyamoto supplied. Ariana's cheeks got redder and her eyebrows knit close. "He doesn't believe the experiment will provide anything useful."
The woman's eyes blazed with fury. Miyamoto seemed to have hit a nerve.
"Is that what he said? Nothing useful?"
"Mm?"
"That fucking liar ."
Miyamoto chuckled. Spinning up Ariana was good sport.
"He said he wasn't cancelling my funding. I thought he was…" Fresh anguish sprung from her eyes.
Ariana didn't know about the crash, or the losses, or Madame Boss's rage. She might piece it all together later, but for now, Miyamoto let the omissions lie.
Hoisting herself upright, Miyamoto took a last look around the space. The machines hummed. Barrels of fluid stood by the door, less than ordered, but still more than needed to fill the chamber once.
An idea was forming.
"Keep documenting," she advised Ariana, giving her one last pat on the shoulder. "If you can't run your experiment this time, take enough notes to reconstruct it in the future. You are brilliant, Ariana, don't be deterred."
The red-headed woman dabbed at her eyes again and flashed Miyamoto a wan smile.
"Thank you, Miyamoto."
Miyamoto smiled sweetly back. She left the woman in her glass room, dejectedly clacking away at her keyboard, writing the obituary for her opus.
_-°-_-° R °-_-°-_
"The pilot, Giovanni. Think about it!"
"He hasn't been interrogated yet."
"Your mother loves retribution. She'd be happy to hear about it."
"She loves money . I'll recoup some liquidating the project components."
Giovanni hadn't wanted to let Miyamoto into his office, so she'd made a loud fuss in the hallway. Now inside, she trailed him as he paced around the room, wearing him down.
Persian, in tense posture atop his desk, watched her closely.
"That's a waste of that machinery and you know it. There's potential in that girl's project," Miyamoto argued, perhaps not in good faith.
It would be more convenient for her if Giovanni believed the experiment would succeed. Already, so much of the fallout had gone in Miyamoto's favor...it would be a cheri on top to see the sole witness to her sabotage eliminated in the same event that would seal Giovanni's fate with his mother.
"How can you be certain it's a waste if you didn't do the accounting I requested?"
Miyamoto made a face at him.
He returned a withering glare. It was an expression he'd inherited from his mother, she thought, but it felt like a Nido cub mimicking a queen.
"Gio…" she crooned patronizingly, "You still don't understand your mother at all, do you?"
"Get out of my office, Miyamoto."
Miyamoto took a step towards him. She was about to take another, but Persian was on its feet and posturing to defend him. Instead, she brought a hand to her chin and laughed lightly.
"Doing this half-way is the surest way to fail. You know your two options are to push through this experiment, or to never have touched it in the first place. But if the boss comes back and all you've got is half the bag and an apology, she will crush you."
The impact of her words on Giovanni was subtle, but she had a keen eye for his tells. His posture never faltered, but his chest lost some of its puff. In lieu of a twitch, he held perfectly still. Belatedly, he popped one of his knuckles.
"Is that what you're hoping for, Miya?" he asked finally.
She acted taken aback. Maybe too much so.
"Whaaat? No, Gio. I'm trying to help you here. I always was...I really think this'll work."
Giovanni snorted. He turned away towards the window, massaging his forehead. Reflected in the glass, she saw him close his eyes, looking frustrated and deep in thought.
Just beyond his reflection, something darted through the midday sky. He didn't seem to notice.
Since Miyamoto's meeting with Giovanni and Ariana that morning, she had accomplished much.
She woke up Jessie, got her ready, and bundled her off to the daycare.
Then she made herself a coffee and took it on a long walk, past the tarmac and hangar, and slow around any conversations mentioning the accident. Still a big mystery, it seemed!
Next, she visited the detention facilities, taking time to chat with the intake staff. The pilot had said nothing useful, only rants about faulty equipment and shoddy maintenance.
Giovanni, on the other hand, had left their talk at the lab and walked straight here to beat his head against the wall, it seemed.
The young man still stood with his back to her, his broad shoulders refusing to slump. Still, she could feel him giving in.
He didn't turn around, but he met her eyes in the thin reflection.
"She would call it a betrayal of our loyal staff, to submit someone to that without proven cause. I feel the same."
Miyamoto made her face soft, like when she spoke to Ariana as a mentor.
"She's going to kill him herself for totaling one of the air vehicles. We won't even get to make use of him."
The logic of Miyamoto's reasoning was not lost on Giovanni. Grunts had been killed for less.
Jarringly, the phone on Giovanni's desk pealed. He turned and snatched up the receiver on the first ring.
Too quick, Miyamoto thought. He was desperate to get out of their conversation.
Giovanni greeted the person on the line coolly. He picked up the phone cradle and started walking with it, receiver to his ear, shoring up some kind of exchange.
Briefly, he turned back to her, holding the headset in place against his ear with his shoulder so he was free to gesture. When he had her attention, he pointed to the door and mouthed,
"Get-the-fuck-out."
Miyamoto rolled her eyes. She headed towards the exit.
Before leaving, she stopped to check her hair in the mirror by the door...and to better hear the assurances and maybe-next-times Giovanni exchanged with the caller.
Feeling confident, Miyamoto gave a little wave goodbye and slipped out.