Valentines: IV

Ritsuka was honestly surprised with the speed at which it took him to actually find Berserker.

His journey led him to one of the few common rooms in Chaldea, not that people frequented it all that much, but it made for relaxation.

Or so he assumed, having never really been here until now.

He doubted the Servant had been trying to seclude himself from everyone, but it was a bit more challenging than he had initially been expecting. Still, when he did find Berserker - or rather, Kalameet - he stopped and stared at them with a raised eyebrow.

If only because of the company they were currently keeping.

Not that he disapproved, but he was a bit surprised all the same.

Striding towards the pair, he glanced between the two of them while ensuring he didn't do anything to startle them.

Only when he was close enough to call out did he do so.

"Hey, guys."

The two turned their heads towards Ritsuka.

Berserker blinked once, then turned his head at an angle in a move that reminded him more of a small dog. Whereas the person sat beside him - Altera - barely looked up from the table she was sat at, merely nodding her head silently towards him before she went back to doing whatever it was that she had been doing.

Now close enough to the pair, he leaned forwards and looked over the table they were at.

It appeared as though the Saber had raided the supply cupboard from some of their boons from the Singularities they had been to. A mixture of teeth, bone and other assorted parts strewn out in front of her.

A somewhat macabre image but there was something about the focus of the Servant that gave him some time to pause. Bringing his hand up and cupping his chin, he looked over the work with a newfound sense of intrigue.

By all accounts, it looked like some sort of odd ritual.

Though the closer he examined it, the more it looked as though the Saber was attempting to make some manner of staff.

His eyes lingered on her work for a couple of seconds, then he darted his eyes towards Kalameet and locked gazes with the Berserker. Neither of them said much of anything for a couple of moments. A somewhat awkward silence stretched on between them before Ritsuka cleared his throat.

"How are you doing?"

Berserker gave a slow blink, then quickly jerked into a response. "Ah, I am fine at the moment. A bit troubled with my work but fine. How are you doing?"

"Doing good…" Ritsuka replied slowly, clapping his hands together once and then rocking back and forth on his heels. Lips came in and out before a breath escaped him. "Probably in the same boat as you. Da Vinci sent me to you when I was thinking about making something for the Director."

The moment the words passed his lips, he saw Berserker straighten, the mismatched eyes burned with understanding. "I see. Then you are also stuck on this Valentines affair…I was trying to think of something that my brothers and sisters liked but I…I could not really come up with anything."

With a rather meek look on his face, Berserker raised his left hand, scratching at the back of his nape and looking at the table.

"I was a bit surprised that Altera could come up with something."

The mention of the Saber took Ritsuka's attention back towards her, a brow raised and he leaned forwards. "What are you making anyway, Altera? Because it looks a bit like a staff to me."

"It is." The curt response from the Saber came with the sound of tape being pulled, the duct tape wrapped around the two bones and was pulled clean. The Saber held up her newfound creation - two bones tapped together - and then gave a single nod of the head without making a sound.

Ritsuka turned his eyes to meet Kalameet's once more.

The Berserker was happily smiling away.

"...Is it for Beatrice?"

That got Altera to stop working.

Her eyes slowly turned towards him and her brow pinched just a little. "How did you know that?"

Ritsuka could only shrug. "You seemed to hang out a lot with her and she's a mage who uses a staff…and then you're making a staff."

"...Oh." Altera replied, looking down at her creation and then making a small noise. "You are correct. This is for Betty."

Ritsuka suppressed a coy smile at the use of the nickname.

"I see. I'm sure she'll love it."

"Hmmm." Altera's reply was only an unsure hum, one that made Ritsuka's brows furrow a little.

"Something the matter?" He asked.

"Valentine's day is for giving chocolates." The Saber replied slowly. "And sweets are good civilisation…but Betty cannot taste sweets. Which means she cannot enjoy good civilisation. That is why I decided on a staff…but staffs are used to destroy things. I am not certain that Betty enjoys destroying things."

Raising her head, the Saber looked at him with the same sort of lost expression that Ash wore.

"Is it good civilisation to not give someone chocolate if they cannot taste it?"

Ritsuka scratched the underside of his chin. "Ash is currently away making a tea set for someone out of clay for Valentine's day…But really, I think the whole point of the day is to give something to someone to show your appreciation. Sure, it can be chocolates, and that's the more traditional thing that people do but it doesn't have to be chocolates."

He paused, then shrugged.

"At least, that's what I think." With a gesture towards the staff, he smiled. "Betty likes her magic and studying for more than just fighting. I think we both know that, so something like this…I think she really would appreciate it. Though if you're worried about it, you can always make her some chocolates as well."

Altera turned her head. "But what about the taste?"

"Just ask Siegward to put some estus into the mould or something." It seemed a simple enough solution for him, and it was what he was going to do for some of the chocolates as well. "It might not make them taste it, but estus has other effects besides that. She'd get some sense of enjoyment from it at the end of the day."

With a thoughtful look, the Saber turned her gaze back to her own work and fell into a silence. When it became clear to him that she would not be answering any time soon, his attention drifted back towards Kalameet.

"Yeah, I figured that because you were the Directors Servant - and because of Da Vinci - you'd probably know more about what to give her than I would."

The response he got was a confused stare. "Olga? She does not speak with me often, if at all…we pass one another at times but she does not approach me. Though that is understandable…I'm not really worth being approached."

He frowned at the self-depreciation of the Servant, shaking his head from side to side. "None of that, Berserker. I'm sure the Director has a lot on her plate at the moment. I rarely meet her outside of work situations as well, she's sort of like that…but yeah. I suppose we're both a little lost then, aren't we?"

Berserker wore a glum look as he nodded his head up and down, then it shifted and his eyes flickered towards Ritsuka. "...What do you know of what Vinci likes?"

"Da Vinci?" Ritsuka rolled his jaw, smacking his lips twice. "You know, that's hard to say. I think she'd be the sort to appreciate anything you gave her, but I figure that one thing she really does like is anything creative. Arts and craft, that sort of thing."

Kalameet nodded his head. "I thought as much…She seemed to like the christmas present I gave her…but I did not want to assume."

Ritsuka perked up. "You gave her a christmas present? That sounds lovely, what was it?"

"...A small falling star."

"...That's adorable." The words slipped out before he could really control himself, wincing at the look he got from the Berserker. One of confusion rather than of indignation, which was a good thing for him. "But yeah, that sort of thing. Although I figure she would probably enjoy the romance aspect of Valentines. In which case, chocolate would be your best bet for her."

Kalameet rolled his jaw and looked down, his hands drummed up and down on the table with a rather erratic pace. "I…have no experience in such things."

"I don't have a lot of experience either." Ritsuka admitted with a chuckle. "But it's worth the attempt-"

"Arts and craft." The Berserker interrupted him, an odd note in the tone of the blonde as he squinted his eyes at something in the distance. "Making things…I believe Vinci would appreciate that more and…the experience would be better for me. I think. Rather, it is something I want to do. Make something that lasts, I mean."

Holding up his hands, Ritsuka smiled down at the Servant as he turned his head to look up. "That is perfectly fine. Like I said, Da Vinci would probably love anything someone gave her if she could feel the passion behind it. Though, if you're up for it, I'd be happy to help you with making up a gift for the Director."

"For Olga?" Tilting his head, Kalameet wore a puzzled frown. "I thought-no, I would welcome the help."

Sharply rising from his seat, Ritsuka stumbled backwards as the blonde was suddenly looming over him, a heavy hand fell on his left shoulder and then he was jerked forwards. Before he could even register what was going on, he suddenly found himself pulled shoulder to shoulder with Kalameet, all while the Servant was smiling broadly.

…Which also showed off his sharpened teeth.

"I would welcome any help from my brother." Kalameet declared with a light tone of voice. "And I am sure that the two of us can manage something for Olga. In exchange, I would help you with any gift you are preparing to make for a friend of yours. That is only fair, yes?"

"O-oh! Well…if you're offering then sure, I wouldn't mind it."

"Excellent." Kalameet smiled wider before clapping Ritsuka on the shoulder, he flinched at the spike of pain that shot through him, his own smile strained a little at the effort but quickly managed to fight through it.

It seemed as though Kalameet did not notice his own strength.

Then again, given the fact Ritsuka had not died, he supposed this might be as gentle as the Berserker could manage it.

Blackbeard had expected the ideas to fall upon him and his group like rain fell upon the trees during a storm.

…Evidently there must have been a strong wind, because all of the promised ideas seemed to have been blown away from them without ever making landfall. The end result being the three of them sitting around one another in silence, which had now been approaching a full hour.

It was becoming increasingly awkward for even him.

"...Sooo…"

His voice attracted the attention of the other two at the table, their heads turned towards him in pure silence.

His tongue felt like a lead weight in his mouth, his eyes dropped down.

Fingers drummed against the table.

"This. Is. Stupid."

Wholeheartedly, he agreed with the words of Havel and nodded his head towards the tall stone plated man. What had started as a great idea - in his own mind - had quickly run aground and left them stranded upon the island of broken dreams and waylaid plans. He doubted that he would have been able to ask for the input of the others on the table.

One was a Berserker and he could only rub two brain cells together to give out some wheezed sentence.

And the other didn't really speak at all.

"...Alright, so I wasn't expecting the kitchen to actually be used." Holding up his hands, he leaned back into his chair and admitted the honest truth.

Havel stared long and hard.

"A. Holiday. About. Giving. Hand. Made. Food?"

Blackbeard inferred what the man meant, then grimaced deeply and dipped his eyes to the table. Grumbling to himself and folding his arms over his chest. "Alright, I expected the kitchen to be bad but I wasn't expecting to see a full blown Goddess and Mashumallow camped out in there. Clearly she is making some chocolates for Master…"

His head dropped forwards, thudding against the table.

"I'm so jealous…hand made chocolates from a pretty girl and a milf…"

Even if her personality did set off every single red flag in his head.

If she was so evil…why was she so hot?

One of the great questions of the world.

Havel made a noise, one that sounded like a mixture of disgust and…no…no it was just disgust. Blackbeard knew the effect he had on people and, quite frankly, he was perfectly alright with someone like this guy giving him a disgusted look. It meant that he was doing something right.

Especially because this guy, weirdly enough, was some sort of priest or something.

Though he got the feeling that a confession with this guy would feel more like an interrogation.

Bringing his head back up, he dropped his arms on the table and exhaled. "Alright so making chocolates for the time being seems to be out of the plan…but…uhm…cards? Valentines day cards aren't a bad idea, are they?"

It was a surprise it had not occurred to him before.

He straightened, feeling the idea bubble and bloom in his head like a beautiful flower.

A smile stretched across his lips, from ear to ear.

"That is exactly it! We're going to hand out Valentine's Day cards to every girl in Chaldea. That way they will feel obligated to give us something in return. Sure, it isn't as lovely as handmade chocolate, but who would ever reject the heartfelt words of a beautiful woman…not me, that's for sure."

A brief pause.

Then he gave an addendum.

"Or a suitable feminine looking guy, but…uh…yeah."

Havel was staring at him rather heavily now.

Clearing his throat, he leaned forwards and tented his hands over the table. "Alright, we're back in business boys. We're beginning the two-point-zero planning for the Bachelor Brigands and their plan to get some female attention."

"What's this I hear about women?"

A rather smooth and jovial voice sent him on alert, his head whipped towards the speaker and his eyes narrowed.

Stepping out from the shadows, or as shadowy as it got in the bar, the lime green hair of David was revealed to the world, twirling his shepherd's staff over his finger like some sort of cane. With a thin smile on his lips, the man closed in on the table and nodded towards Havel in greeting.

"Forgive me for eavesdropping, but I overheard some curious things about a group of three Servants and, alas, I am a curious soul…thus, here I stand before you in what I can clearly see is your hour of need."

Stepping forwards, David held his arms out and smiled.

"I understand you are looking to spread the love of the Lord on this upcoming day? Then it would only be right that you should have a humble shepherd with you to ensure the flock is properly tended to. I do have some experience with this sort of thing."

Blackbeard pinched his brows.

"...Yeah, right after I ask Lancelot to watch my wife while I'm on holiday." He shot back with a flat look.

David jolted as if he had been slapped, his arms dropped down and he blinked several times with slightly wide eyes. "That seems to be a cruel thing to say. I am offering to help you here, after all."

"Yeah, so when are you going to send me into battle so you can have all the girls to yourself?"

Another wince.

"Ah…well…your critique of me is certainly wounding and I won't deny that…" He glanced left and right, biting his lower lip for a moment. A breath escaped him and his shoulders dropped, David brought his head up with a different sort of smile. One that looked far more tired than before.

"I can't deny that sort of accusation. The best I can say is that I have moved on from such things and won't do it again?"

Blackbeard watched him with narrowed eyes, then nodded once. "...Alright, but no NTR. We don't do that around here…well…it depends-"

"Depends?" The weight of Havel's words fell upon him like a sledgehammer.

He felt his face turn cold, doubtless because of the blood rushing out of it and leaving it ashen. Whipping around, he held up his hands in surrender and blurted out to the Bishop. "I-I mean, we don't like cheating spouses around here! No sir! We don't even tolerate cheating girlfriends."

Especially if they were cheating on him.

But if they were cheating on someone else with him then that was an entirely different story.

Havel continued to look, then grunted and leaned back into the chair with a groan of wood.

Crisis averted, he thought to himself.

David merely laughed, as if he wasn't the cause for this entire topic in the first place.

Blackbeard watched him for a moment longer, then shrugged his shoulders. "Alright, fine."

Another bright smile from David, then he clapped his hands together - dismissing his staff as he did so - and looking across the table. "Wonderful. Then perhaps we would do well to find ourselves some supplies first? I'm certain that the lovely Ms Da Vinci would have something spare she could give us. Failing that…I'm sure that the magic to turn regular paper into coloured paper wouldn't be too difficult."

Grunting in affirmation, he sharply rose from his seated position.

"Come then, my crew!" Pointing forwards, his finger shot towards the door. "Our adventure awaits-"

"Wait."

Havel silenced him, Blackbeard turned his eyes on the man.

Then lowered his arm as he watched the stone plated bishop brought a mug towards the visor of his helmet. His belief that they would have poured the liquid through the gaps was fortunately put to rest when the Berserker placed a straw in the mug, the mouth of it vanished into the depth of the visor.

A loud slurp was heard as they watched the Berserker drink in silence.

Several seconds went past before the Servant lowered the mug back onto the table and stood up.

Blackbeard wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel about the priest downing a full pint of beer in less than five seconds through a straw.

His eyes flickered to the Berserker as he moved past them, stomping towards the door with heavy footfalls and giving zero indication that he had even drunk anything alcoholic in the least. With brows raised, Blackbeard turned to the other two in order to see what sort of reaction they were having.

Sammy quietly drank his orange juice without saying a word-

Blackbeard blinked.

The juice floated out of the glass and vanished into the hood.

"...Alright, what the fu-"

"And that is why we need paper, glitter, some little sequins and-"

A loud slapping sound had him stop talking, turning his head towards the direction of the noise.

There was the blonde guy, with his hand flat atop clay which had once been a cup. With an expression lacking any sort of emotion, he pulled his hand back and then picked up the clay, already going back to shaping it once more into a ball and dipping his hands into the water.

Blackbeard stared for a few moments, then looked at the brunette woman.

Da Vinci hadn't even so much as blinked through the sudden noise and was clearly acting as though nothing unusual was happening in the least.

Keeping his gaze lingering on the Avenger for a few moments longer, Blackbeard eventually dismissed what was happening. Especially as it looked as though the blonde wasn't making anything that he himself would have been interested in.

"So yeah. We're making Valentines day cards and we need supplies."

"And I look like an arts and crafts store to you?" Da Vinci queried, though her mirthful gaze betrayed her amusement at the situation, rather than indignation.

Blackbeard rolled his eyes, dropping his hands to his hips. "One of the most famous painters in the world? I'm willing to bet that you have something just lying around…Either that or we start having to steal the printer paper and find some highlighters."

The woman shuddered and leaned back, looking at him with an expression he had seen a hundred times before on a hundred different faces.

Mild disgust.

"...Alright, I refuse to be a willing participant to whatever it is that you would have been making with that-"

"I thought you said that it did not matter-"

"Shut."

Ash was barely able to get out a few words before Da Vinci thrust a hand towards him and mimed a mouth being closed, all while wearing the strained smile on her face.

Blackbeard smirked at the Caster, realising he had finally achieved his victory.

Da Vinci rolled her eyes and lowered her arm. "Alright, I can probably scrounge up some spare supplies for you to make some valentines cards with. Though, knowing you, I can guess the sort of recipients…so I'll do this on one condition."

He suddenly felt much less triumphant.

The smirk slid off his face as his shoulders dropped.

"You can have as much card, arts and crafts items as I can spare…so long as you're giving out equal measure to the men and women of Chaldea."

A beat.

"And others."

Others?

Blackbeard blinked twice, then leaned back and grimaced. "Seriously? You want me to walk up to some armour plated knight and give him a valentines day card? What? Like that buff dude Siegfried? You want me to give him something covered in lovehearts? That's just…have a heart! What about my public image?"

"You mean aside from improving it?" Da Vinci snorted and shook her head. "Besides, I'm not saying you have to do it personally. Just as long as you are signing some of them and handing them out…or you can even do it anonymously. Just as long as not just the women are getting them, I'll be content."

Oh, that wasn't as bad.

And he had other people to do that sort of thing for him.

He was planning on saving the top priority cards for the girls for himself anyway, so that was hardly a big stipulation.

The smile came upon his face once again, throwing his hand forwards to shake the hand of the woman.

"You got yourself a deal!"

Da Vinci silently eyed his hand, then looked back at him with a flat expression.

"...What? I washed it." He frowned. "I'm not that disgusting."

"Mmmmh." Da Vinci merely hummed and turned away from him, strolling across the room without another word.

He folded his arms and pouted, turning towards the guy beside him and leaning towards them, his voice dropped into a low whisper. "Seriously? What was up with that? You'd have thought that I'd dipped my hand in mud or something…I mean, you'd shake my hand, wouldn't you?"

There was nary a whisper from Havel.

Nothing but a long silence as the Berserker pointedly refused to answer anything he said, instead they just seemed to be glowering at the location they were in. Helmet turning all across the room and with heavy arms folded over his chest. For a split second, it sounded as though they were growing like a dog.

Or a bear.

Blackbeard slowly leaned away from them.

"You'll have to forgive him."

David spoke, Blackbeard turned on the lime green man as he hovered above the shoulders of Ash, looking down at the blonde with a thin smile on his face.

Raising his head, David nodded towards Havel.

"He's not the biggest supporter of sorcerers or mages, so bringing him into the workshop of one probably wasn't the wisest of moves."

Blackbeard squinted. "Why am I learning about this now?"

David only raised his brows. "I assumed it was common knowledge that most discovered when they first arrived. I had thought you would have been informed of it already so I never thought to bring it up…I mean, I did think it was a rather odd thing to do, but I assumed you were going to play the role of mediator if things went badly."

Mediator?

He looked Havel up and down, then back towards the Archer and sent the man a glare.

David just hummed and went back to watching the progress of the blonde.

…Why did they bring this guy along again?

Oh, right.

Free help.

Everything was quiet.

Too quiet.

Her eyes lingered on the door to her office, fingers drumming along the surface of her desk.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Still nothing.

She had been able to complete a dozen reports and read through twice as much paperwork during that time without anyone showing up in front of her to distract her work. There wasn't a single person who barged into her office to alert her to some sort of catastrophic situation or some newfound Singularity.

There was nothing.

No disaster, no alarms…not even a welcome.

It was almost too good to be true.

"Are you expecting trouble?"

Ah, yes.

The one little thing that would have otherwise made this a perfect evening for her.

Olga turned her eyes onto the Servant sitting in the corner of the room, the pale haired woman looked to her with deep indigo eyes, coloured with slight intrigue and a hint of what could have been described as concern.

Brynhildr turned her gaze from Olga to the door several times before stopping.

"You have been gazing at the door for some time now, are you anticipating a visitor?"

"...Yes." She replied with an exhale, slumping back into her seat and furrowing her brows. "I have been."

With a hum, the woman went back to what she was doing.

That was to say, nothing.

The Valkyrie just leaned back into the chair and closed her eyes, resting her hands on her lap and assuming the posture and appearance of a statue. A very objectively attractive statue, but they were nothing more than furniture at this point in time. The only difference between Brynhildr and Stahl was that one of them still breathed.

It was…Olga wasn't sure while Brynhildr made her feel uneasy whereas Stahl was just accepted as part of the furniture.

Maybe it was the physical appearance?

That would have explained it for her.

Her hands drummed along the table several more times before they stopped, she turned to the Valkyrie and raised a brow.

"...Do you really intend to wait in my office until after Valentine's day comes and goes?"

Brynhildr nodded her head, then spoke gently. "It would be dangerous if I were to wander Chaldea…I could encounter those who…"

She trailed off, but Olga could infer what she meant.

A grimace came upon her face.

She knew why the Valkyrie was here, it had been explained to her by the woman in question, but she had not anticipated them spending the next week in her office and just sitting there doing nothing. While at first it had been easy to look past, it was getting increasingly disturbing for her.

"...And you intend to sit there in silence?"

Brynhildr pursed her lips, opening her eyes and turning them towards Olga. "Do you wish to start a conversation with me?"

"...I don't know." Was all Olga could say in response to that, her eyes dipped onto the desk.

She didn't even know what sort of conversation she could have with the woman in the first place.

They hadn't spoken much to one another and, according to Brynhildr, that was just fine for them. Rather, they had encouraged her to remain as distant as possible but…something about that felt incredibly back handed.

As though they were taking advantage of the many aspects that made her disliked around Chaldea, despite what anyone said…she just knew that they still didn't look at her. Maybe things had gotten better after Scandinavia, but that was hardly much of an improvement to the general perception around the base.

She had no doubt they were still laughing behind her back about that whole…incident in the previous singularity.

Her eyes closed and she sharply stood up.

There was a small shuffle from in front of her, when her eyes opened again she saw that Brynhildr was now looking towards her with some small measure on intensity.

"You can remain here if you wish for as long as you desire." Was all she said, already stepping around her desk and marching towards the door. She just managed to get to it before the Valkyrie spoke up.

"What do you intend to do, Master?"

Olga stopped and wet her lips. "This is exactly the sort of frivolous stupidity that is going to be dropped on my doorstep and left for me to clear up…I'm going to scout out why Chaldea is being so quiet and I'm going to prepare myself for the inevitable."

"If it is going to cause you such distress, would it not be easier to simply put a stop to it before it reached that point?"

Olga let out a sharp snort and shook her head from side to side, shooting an exasperated smile towards the Lancer. "I would have greater luck holding back an avalanche than holding back whatever madness is being concocted…but this time, I am going to be ready for it."

She hit the button and stepped into the hallway-

"Bonjour~"

A voice sang down the hallway.

Olga instantly flinched and turned towards it, opening her mouth to speak.

Barely a word escaped her before Marie grabbed her by the shoulders and fixed her in place, then before she could recover from that, the French Queen leaned forwards and planted a swift kiss on her right cheek before doing the same on the left.

Stepping back with a bright smile, the woman released her and skipped back down the hallway, humming all the while to herself and then calling back.

"Just you wait!"

Olga stood there in silence.

Her lips rolled inwards and her arms dropped down to her side, then placed themselves on her hips.

She stood there for some time, she wasn't sure how much.

Then she nodded her head once and turned around, walking back into her office and closing the door behind her. Already aware that the eyes of Brynhildr were upon her and the silent question lingering in the air. Pacing across the room, Olga held up her hand towards the Lancer and prevented them from speaking.

Not until she sat down behind her desk did Olga eventually open her mouth and talk.

"I'm sure they will manage without me."

Hanleth flickered through picture after picture.

The computer room of Chaldea - the one active one they actually had - wasn't turning out to be the boon that Hanleth had been hoping for.

A sigh escaped her as she leaned back, then looked towards Chrysaor. "Have you gotten anything?"

All Chrysaor did was give a low hum in response, all while she continued to wear a tired expression as they picked at the underneath of her nails. Legs strewn across the table and pausing intermittently to look her way before going back to picking away at her nails. Sometimes she would pick at her teeth when she wanted to spice things up.

Hanleth slumped her shoulders. "You could at least look for the prettiest pictures, couldn't you? I know you don't have a lot of experience with this sort of stuff…but surely you can point out the really shiny ones?"

Chrysaor just looked at her with half-lidded eyes.

"...Is this not your domain in the first place?"

Hanleth wanted to deny that, but she couldn't. Instead she was content with just glowering at the Saber for her words and then eventually sighed, turning her head away and folding her arms over her chest. "Alright, yes…technically…but I've never planned parties before and I need to come up with a room for Uncle to copy…this would have been much easier with Pharros…she could interpret what I meant when I asked for things."

Unfortunately getting near the Caster at the moment was difficult.

"Alright but I'd appreciate your help." She pleaded further, "Especially if you're coming to this with me-"

Chrysaor sent her an odd look. "...No I'm not."

Hanleth scoffed. "Yes, you are, Chris."

"No." She denied. "I am not."

"You are." Hanleth affirmed, putting as much confidence into her voice as she could. "You are going to be coming with me because if I have to attend the dance, then so do you."

Chrysaor curled her lip in obvious distaste. "Why do you have to attend?"

A sigh escaped Hanleth, her head dropped and she brought a hand up to nurse her brows. "So that people are confident I'm not going to be doing anything this time…also if I'm holding an event like this then I know my father and sister are going to be there…probably mother as well and I can't just not attend. I'd never hear the end of it."

That and she felt compelled to invite her brother along to it.

…Not Alma.

Her other brother.

Chrysaor just shrugged. "Ignore them then…even if you can't, why do I have to come?"

Hanleth exhaled. "Please?"

Closing her eyes, the Saber let out a long and irritated sigh before shooting Hanleth an annoyed look. She could tell that the patience of Chris was already starting to wear thin, but at this point there was little else she could do. She was committed to this and her name be damned if she did not get Chris involved and relaxed.

"...I'll show up for the food."

Hanleth felt as though a weight had been taken off her shoulders, a relieved smile spread across her face. "I wasn't expecting you to dance…I'm certainly not going to be and…well…I was only going to show up for the food myself."

It felt a little embarrassing to admit that out loud, but it was the honest truth.

She'd show up for the food and then find a nice little corner to go to sleep in and that would be her maximum social interaction for the entire event sorted out.

Chrysaor closed her eyes and leaned back into her seat, taking a short breath before speaking.

"...Those shiny rocks that hang down from the ceilings of caves. The ones that look like fangs."

Hanleth perked up, there was something in the tone of Chrysaor's voice that wasn't necessarily warm or approving, but it did sound nostalgic. Given what her past was like, then it was probably understandable.

She was also aware of what the woman was talking about.

Hastily pulling a notebook in front of her and scribbling down some rough sentences.

A slight flicker on her divine senses, her eyes shot upwards as the presence grew closer.

Chrysaor sensed it was well, tensing and turning her head towards the door but making no effort to get her feet off the table.

The door opened up, her Uncle entered the room.

Though not the one she had been expecting.

This one had to duck down to step into the room with the door closing behind him, standing up straight and towering above the pair of them. Dull gold eyes flickered from one to the other for a couple of seconds, then a short sniff escaped him as he brought his hand up and adjusted the rather ratty looking scarf around his neck.

Hanleth wondered if he'd ever replaced or washed that thing.

"...Uncle."

It was a small greeting.

Yet the second she uttered the words, she had the full attention of the taller God, his eyes narrowed for a moment before they closed.

"...So you know then."

…Was it supposed to be a secret?

Her eyes turned meaningfully to Chrysaor for a few moments with a silent question in her eyes. Unfortunately, her companion wasn't in a position to pay attention to her. Much too busy sizing up the taller God as though he was some sort of slab of meat and she was a butcher.

"Chris." She muttered in a low tone, one of both pleading and warning.

Her companion spared her a glance before she grumbled and closed her eyes, folding her arms and appearing for all the world as though she had just curled up and gone to sleep.

Hanleth could only look at her in envy.

She wanted to sleep.

Her uncle looked between herself and Chrysaor a few times before shaking his head.

Wetting her lips, she dared to speak first. "Did you…need this room for something, Uncle?"

"...Just…" He muttered out, pacing across the room with heavy steps and towards the far corner. Coming to a stop with his back to her and looking down at one of the terminals. "Just sensed a familiar presence nearby and thought…"

He trailed off.

Hanleth winced. "Ah…you thought I was mother?"

"...I thought you were Caffrey."

Now she just felt annoyed.

"Sorry to disappoint…"

A weary sigh came out, her uncle turned around and looked down at her, shaking his head from side to side.

"I'm not…" He trailed off, cutting himself short before moving his hand up and scratching his brows. "...Pay no further attention to it. What are you doing?"

She debated for a few moments about answering him, then figured that there wasn't a problem with it. Shrugging her shoulders, Hanleth pointed towards the computer in front of her and tapped her finger against the screen. "I'm cycling through images of old ballrooms and party halls. Trying to get the perfect blend of ancient and modern so that uncle Gwyndolin could make something for the party I'm making."

She wasn't sure what she was expecting from her oldest uncle.

He just looked between her and the screen before slowly raising a brow. "Gwyndolin is helping you?"

There was no disguising his surprise.

"Hanleth approached him." Chrysaor spoke up with a quiet but stern tone of voice. "Not the other way around."

She wasn't quite sure why Chrysaor needed to elaborate it, but she nodded her head along with the words of her friend. Looking towards her uncle with a strained and rather exhausted smile.

"Mmmmh." Her uncle gave a small nod of the head, a faint hum as though he had solved some small puzzle. That was something she couldn't quite understand either, especially as her uncle approached and pulled out the chair that was beside her, lowering himself into it slowly.

Given his impressive size and equally substantial weight, she was unsurprised when the chair let out a small groan of protest.

Neither of them said anything for a moment.

Then the chair stopped creaking and fell silent.

Her uncle leaned forwards and turned his head, looking forwards and to the screen of the computer she was at. His eyes flicked up and down through the assembled images without saying a single word. Seconds blinked past into minutes before she even really paid attention to the time.

"I-is there something the matter?" Her words slipped out as barely a whisper.

Turning to her, the older God raised a brow in puzzlement, as though he was the one who was confused by her and not the other way around. "That should be my question unto you. Was it not you who gathered these portraits? I thought there was more to do here than stare into their soulless copies."

"...I mean…you just sat down and stared at the screen." She muttered out, dipping her gaze and tapping the tips of her fingers together. "That's…er…pretty intimidating…and we haven't spoken all that much before…you know?"

"...Ah, yes…" Clearing his throat, her uncle turned his head away and slowly pushed himself up. "I can leave if you are so troubled by my presence-"

"It's not that I'm troubled!" She blurted out, raising her head up. "It's just…did you want to help as well?"

A grimace became visible from behind the scarf. "I doubt Gwyndolin would take it well if he found out that I was assisting you…much the same would be said for your mother as well, also your father would doubtless try to have some words with me."

The latter felt more like a halfhearted addendum, as though he was just saying it because it occurred to him but it lacked any of the sense of danger from the first two.

Evidently her father didn't strike all that much fear into her uncle.

Then again…looking at her uncle and knowing what his role had been…she wasn't all that surprised.

"Well…" She shrugged her shoulders and then frowned. "They can make up their own parties if they have a problem with who I'm getting help from. It's my domain and I can include whoever I want to include in it."

A beat.

"T-that is to say if you want to help…you can say no…"

Despite saying that, she hoped he didn't say no.

The more help she could wrangle up for this, the less physical work she would need to do and if all went well…perhaps she could even cut down on the mental side of things and free up some time for her own hobbies.

Like sleeping.

A faint noise, a mixture between a laugh and a scoff, erupted from her uncle as he shook his head. "I was never much for design, I spent precious little time within the halls of the great city and even when I was called back to the capital, I preferred to spend as little time in the many wondrous sights as possible…most of my time was spent in the rooms and…no, ignore my words."

He trailed off, a distant look in his gaze for a moment.

Hanleth made a noise and rolled her eyes. "I wasn't going to dump all of the work on you. I might not like putting in a lot of effort but I do have some pride as a Goddess, you know? I was going to gather up all the ideas for what constituted a bonding expression and romance and then blend them all together. A big mixture of different romantical expressions."

"Oh, I had not meant to imply you lacked pride." Evidently ignoring the latter part of her words, her uncle raised his hand and waved it. "But that…mmmmmh. Romantic expressions? I would hardly be the one to ask about that much either. Especially on account of my own…status."

Oh, right.

He didn't have any wife and children, did he?

Then again, as far as she knew it was only her own mother that had children between the three of her aunts and uncles, so perhaps it was more of a case of her mother being the odd one out rather than the other way about.

Still, she would rather not think about that.

"You don't need to do much work."

She grumbled, then pointed at the screen. "You can just point at whatever you think looks alright and then we can…borrow some ideas from it."

His arms came across, folding over his chest as his eyes lowered themselves to the ground. A thoughtful look crossed his features before sharpening, his golden orbs slipped away from the ground and towards Chrysaor. His voice took on a more tense edge to it. "And your companion holds no problems with my being here?"

Chrysaor said nothing for a moment.

Then she sniffed.

"Stops her asking me." She replied, then closed her eyes and leaned back into her chair once more.

Hanleth pouted at the lazy response.

She was envious right now.

But she had made a commitment and she was running on a time limit here.

Shuffling himself closer, her uncle leaned past her and looked at the screen with furrowed brows. "...And what am I supposed to be looking for here?"

She shot him an incredulous look. "Didn't I just say you were supposed to be looking for ballrooms that looked nice?"

"I never went dancing."

"...Really?"

"There was a war." He answered matter of factly.

She wasn't convinced. "Alright, but what did you do to relax?"

"...Relax." He parroted, in a tone as flat as flooring. "What did we do to relax in an active war? Where you could scarcely go a single week without being attacked or forced to move your entire army to one corner of the world or another."

She nodded her head and frowned. "If no one was relaxing, then how did they keep their minds sharp for their next battles? What were they supposed to do when the fighting was over? These are the questions people don't tend to think about."

Rolling her eyes, she let out a sigh.

Honestly.

Some people just did not think things through at all.

Still, she could see she had her work cut out for her.

Especially if this was the best help she could get.

Chrysaor abruptly tensed once more, raising her head up and looking at the door.

Hanleth barely managed to get a word out before the door was flung open and a blur shot into the room. A split second later, she suddenly found herself staring at some blonde girl with a hoodie, pointing a finger towards her companion with a challenging scowl on her face.

"Ah-hah! I knew my Saber detecting skills were working perfectly! The scent of a Saber was too…wait a second."

The blonde slowly lowered her hand and squinted, then turned and looked towards the door before shooting the baffled gaze back to Chrysaor.

The movement repeated itself several times.

"...Aren't you supposed to be a Rider?"

"...That's mother." Chrysaor blankly replied, then raised a brow. "And what are you supposed to be?"

Straightening herself, the blonde puffed out her chest and wore a wide smirk. "I am the Saber of Sabers, the Ultimate Swordsman! The peerless warrior from the Stars! The cloak that hides in every shadow! The movement in every corner of your gaze! I am Mysterious Heroine X!"

Hanleth had no idea who this was.

Her eyes flickered left and right, searching for any hint of recognition.

She barely got one from her uncle, but he looked more perturbed than anything else.

"...Another loud human then." Chrysaor dismissed, then waved her hand towards the door dismissively. "Go away. I'm not in the mood to play around with you."

Heroine X thinned her lips. "Oi. I was walking around just because I smelled a Saber nearby. You aren't allowed to just dismiss me like that. Where is your sense of…wait, what are all of you guys doing in here anyway? Is this Chaldea's museum or something? I mean…yikes…some of these terminals look older than the appearance of Entropy's Avatar."

The blonde started to mumble to herself, pacing around the room and seemingly forgetting all about Chrysaor. Cupping her chin and scratching it as she walked.

Eventually, she walked around until she was behind them and looking down at the screen.

With a deft movement, Heroine X thrust a hand forwards and snatched her notes off the table.

"Hey!"

The human had the nerve to stick a finger up in her face to silence her.

Reading through the notes, Heroine X made a face and chucked them back clumsily onto the table, dropping her hands onto her hips and tilting her head. "Where is the laser show?"

Hanleth blinked. "The what show?"

"Laser show." Repeating the words, the blonde rolled her eyes. "Tell me you at least have those in this era. I could have sworn it was part of all those classic songs. You'd have those old jazz balls and this reflective ball would spin around on the ceiling. You know, those old classic dances."

Classics?

Classics?

Hanleth could only stare.

Heroine X sighed and dropped her shoulders. "No? Tch. What about a little holographic moon? You have to have one of those, or a starry night? These are go-to things for romantic getaways. I couldn't tell you how many planets make a killing on being solely marketed towards couples because of their scenery."

A snort escaped her, waving a hand.

"There is this one planet in the northern cluster, it orbits a black hole with a big cloud of ice around the atmosphere…it's a pretty popular resort."

Hanleth had no idea what was going on here.

But she could see an opportunity when it appeared before her.

A sly smile formed across her lips as she looked at the blonde woman. "Say…seeing as you know so much about romance, perhaps you could give your own opinion on some of these ideas that I have…though it's more as though I need someone to just double check them, really. Not a lot of work."

Heroine X blinked, then jolted backwards and frowned. "Hey, I came here for the Saber and…uh…wait, is this for something important?"

"A little holiday…nothing serious."

"...Wait…they had Valentines Day even here? I didn't think it was that old but…" Wetting her lips, Heroine X bit down on her lower one. Eyes darting left and right in clear conflict before her shoulders dropped and she leaned forwards. "Alright, I guess I could give you a couple of pointers. They don't call me Mysterious Romance Master X for nothing."

Hanleth was absolutely sure that no one called her that.

But getting someone else to do the work for her was fine.

Heroine X paused, then looked at Faraam. "...So who the heck are you anyway?"

"...Faraam."

"...That it?"

"Yes."

"Huh. Alright then." With a shrug, she went back to scrolling through the images and glancing between the notes. "Eh…this stuff is all so old. Are you holding a dance or an archeology dig?"

Faraam made a small noise as he leaned forwards. "They are hardly ruins and perhaps they have stood the test of time because they have proven their worth? Akin to an old sword that needs only a whetstone to keep it in service, rather then having it cast aside and replaced with an entirely new blade."

"...Are you trying to apply battle tactics to a romantic dance, uncle?" Hanleth could not help but ask.

Heroine X shrugged. "They do say that love is war."

Faraam made a noise, folding his arms.

Hanleth grunted.

""Sounds like some my sister/mother would say.""

They stared at one another for a half second.

Faraam snorted and shook his head.

Hanleth wore a ghost of a smile.