FUCK YEAH, STEAK. [Closed]

[emptytraits]

Characters: Franziska von Karma, Synchron fon Elemni and Kongou Agon. yeah I put him last wut nao.
Content: Since Sync still doesn't trust the Kitchen to some degree, he decides to scout around for food and gains some unwanted company. And by 'unwanted company' he'd rather kill himself then be in the same room with them. I do believe the rest of

Comments

[karmicwhiplash]

Franziska grinned at Sync wolfishly. "No need to be so tense, Mr Elemni. We're off-duty, after all." There was no friendliness in the statement, of course, and the boy would have been foolish to read too much into it, but after all, they were crewmates, and it behooved the deck officers to have at least a little bit of rapport. Who knew when they'd need to coordinate in the thick of battle?

Still, as her table companion was intent on burying himself in his menu, she decided it wasn't worth pretending at small talk. Prime rib would be nice, the woman thought. I haven't treated myself in a while. And whatever vinegar passes for red wine in this place.

When the boy tensed it had an almost physical effect on his surroundings. Franziska looked around to see what could be the cause of Sync's agitation. Had the Lamperouge boy stumbled in here as well? On a docked gunner's pay? Unlikely. As the shaggy mass of dreadlocks took shape amongst the crowd, however, she understood. Oh, this could be fun indeed, if the scuttlebutt was to be believed. She had never met the man personally, though she recalled him as one of her pilots. He and Elemni, on the other hand, seemed to have a certain... lack of détente.

Franziska leaned back in her chair with a smile. Once the waiter returned, she could look forward to dinner and a show.