08 / 11 / 11 - Jean-Paul, Zaza
=XF= Empty Building - Training Facilities - Chemeketa Military Base
Though three stories tall, this building still manages to look squat and workmanlike. The walls are reinforced concrete, made to withstand damage - as the faint scorch marks along several prove - and the stairwells are narrow and filled with echoes. Though at a glance the building is a throwback to prison-like construction trends of earlier eras, its monitoring system is state-of-the-art, intercoms and cameras feeding into the control center on the top floor, in addition to any further surveillance equipment set up for the day's specific drills.
While the empty building is able to be moderately highly secured, for now, the defenses are down and the building is merely that: a building. There is cover in the choices of approach, in timing, in cover, et cetera, as Jean-Paul walks through the building doing various bits of basic maintenance as Zaza charts her path to sneak past him and up the stairs to the waiting control center. That is her goal. In the meantime, Jean-Paul checks on bits of electrical work that have been shorted or cut in more advanced exercises, making notes for repair.
It is safe to say that Zaza left her high heels at the door for this evaluation. For a woman who normally narrates her presence with the stuttered echo of heels against the floor, and louder clothing, she is surprisingly quiet and observant of the space she is moving through, even having never been in the building before. She is far less successful at the whole completely hiding behind cover part of the test, partially due to her awkward size. Never mind security cameras at the moment. Oops.
Jean-Paul finishes what he is doing before he follows Zaza, but given the fact that he finishes so promptly after she ascends -- well. He probably had a pretty good idea of her progress, 'stealth' or no. When he joins her in the control room, he moves to take a seat like he owns the place. "What would you say your greatest disadvantage is?"
Jean-Paul does own the place. Doesn't he? Zaza is already sitting, legs crossed in a chair, one foot bouncing somewhat anxiously, and her hands settled in her lap. Her arms still show the bruising from her Hand to Hand certification earlier in the week. "Other zhan having very little clue about spotting ze cameras?" She chews her lip thoughtfully, considering for a moment before responding, "I am rather large and am /shit/ at avoiding notice or hiding."
Just slightly, Jean-Paul nods. Then he says, "You're wrong. You're no taller than I am, and you are in fit shape. Your disadvantage is the fact that you are uncomfortable with your height in this context. I saw you picked up hand-to-hand recently when reviewing your file. If you have the agility and dexterity for that, you have it for this. The rest can be learned."
"I don't exactly...press flat," Zaza replies, more wryly than argumentative as she gestures from her figure to his own. Damnable curves. "I won't argue zhat I am not uncomfortable zhough." Clearly she is, fingers pressing the flat twine of her braid back over her shoulder as she fidgets in her seat. "And yes, I did." She looks a little relieved at the fact she may not be a completely hopeless case where this is concerned. "Good."
Jean-Paul shrugs. "No one presses flat. Stealth isn't cartoon sneaking," he says with a demonstratie eel of his hand peeking around the corner of the desk. "Your discomfort and your awkwardness hinder you in two ways: one, you are unable to move freely, and two, you draw attention because of that ill-ease. I would take the next couple of weeks and work on cultivating an attitude of blending on, on not drawing the eye, whether it is in your clothing or in how you carry yourself, until you become comfortable with it."
Despite her awkwardness, a slight smile turns Zaza's lips as Jean-Paul's eeled hand writhes around the corner of the desk. "I can certainly try," she promises, fingers strumming lightly against her ankle. "Any suggestions as to how? At least in regards to blending in a crowd. Clothing, I can do."
Jean-Paul gives her a few ideas, just a couple of starting tips, I don't know what they are, and then adds, "A lot of it is just in being more observant of people around you, you know. Emulating them. It isn't skulking up along walls in the shadows, but carrying yourself as if you belong, as if you are no one, as if you aren't of interest. There's a lot you can do with body language that stops just shy of telepathy." He taps his temple with a lift of his chin and adds a bit dismissively, "People aren't actually as observant as they'd like to think. They miss details."
It is very good advice. Zaza makes for a quietly intense and serious student, listening to the information with her gaze fixed firmly on him. The final suggestion causes her to chuckle slightly, shaking her head with a flicker of quicksilver amusement cutting across her features. "It's amazing how many things with zhis job come down to watching ze people you are among. Seeming. Listening. Watching zhem for what zhey say and what zhey actually mean," she muses softly.
Tipping his head, Jean-Paul says, "It's something that most people tend to think that they are better at than they are, as well." Just a touch of the acerb fading from his tone, he adds, "I'd also recommend you spend more time in town: watching, blending. This is a highly atypical environment."
"Yes. I got very similar advice from Ilad," Zaza admits, dipping her chin in a slight nod. The dash of acid doesn't really register all that keenly. "And true. It isn't and it is rather removed for much of zhat. I will do zhat."
Quashing the starting arch of his eyebrow, Jean-Paul says, "Ah." He glances over, pulls up his laptop, and opens up training scheduling to review. "I'll send you some reading materials that might help this all fit together for you, as well. I'll put you on a light lesson rotation until you've had more time to work on blending in and getting comfortable. Anything else? Any questions?"
"That would be wonderful, thank you," Zaza acknowledges with a low smile. "And no. Not at ze moment, I might have one for you later after I get ze chance to dig into the material a little bit. Thank you for ze instruction." Unfolding from her chair, she stands slowly and dusts her fingers along pants.
Dry, Jean-Paul says, "You're welcome." No one can say he isn't polite. (Plenty of people can say that.) "If you can't reach me, any of the basic stealth instructors are available to you as well. For now, I think we have more of those than any other area." Slightly, he rolls his eyes. "Just remember: you're not as hopeless as you might think."
"I would think you are more zhan correct in zhat," Zaza affirms, eyebrow ticking up a little in response. She laughs, bright and mirthful at his affirmation. "You are just happy zhat I didn't show up to zhis in heels, saves on ze hopelessness. I will practice, and get out of your hair for now. Have a nice rest of your morning." Sketching a short salute, she flashes him another bright smile before heading out of the control center.
"I had a bet with myself," Jean-Paul admits, maybe-maybe-not serious. "But good job on shoe choice." He inclines his head in a farewell nod in response to her smile, and then turns back to juggling schedules. So. Many. Students. Fucking Carpenter.
Stealth in heels??