TWENTY-EIGHT POINT FIVE : If you want to make it better

[wristsniper]

Filtered to Hughes, Hawkeye, and Zevran
Change of plans. It seems Dist is a complete moron and has taken up residence in the very spot I was going to utilize. My house, instead. It'll work out much better, actually.

Filtered to KimbleyI hope you don't mind a venue change. I've sprained my ankle and the doctor has ordered me to stay at home. I've

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[muertederojo]

Oh you poor thing. I wouldn't want to take away time from your ankle's healing process.

[wristsniper]

Hn. It's swollen to about twice the normal size. And I don't know if you've met my physician, but I wouldn't dare cross her.

[muertederojo]

Perhaps I should wait for another time then, hm?

[wristsniper]

[The stern leader of the people voice goes here.]

I'd like to avoid conflict in the future, and I'd like to head it off immediately. However, I don't feel comfortable discussing terms of your part in it over the phone lines.

Honestly, the sooner I can do this, the sooner I can get back to much less pleasant and stressful things. I think we actually have a lot in common; we just need to find that common ground and work this out so it's mutually beneficial.

I'm prepared to listen to any demands you have.

[muertederojo]

*digests what she has to say before he chuckles lightly*

So this matter is stressful to you? Your poor ankle. But, I do admire that you are willing to work this out.

Very well then. I'll be over.

[wristsniper]

You'd think I could relax, but I can't.

Good. I'll see you then.

[muertederojo]

*Ten minutes later, Kimbley walks up to her door and knocks on it with his gloved hand, readjusting his tie with his other.*

[wristsniper]

[Olivier goes to the door, her ankle wrapped loosely in a dish towel. She's using her sword as a makeshift cane.]

Come in. I apologize again for moving the venue. I assure you, I had Dist help me move the furniture so it looks less like I live here and more like normal people do.

[muertederojo]

*He looks at her state of being and can't help but smile a bit. Obviously, it wasn't a smile of pity, but some could mistake it for that. Olivier knew better though, with the Crimson Alchemist involved after all.

Kimbley steps inside, nodding as he takes off his hat, holding it behind his back as he enters the home.*

A bit of individuality never hurts.

[wristsniper]

Of course not; but this is far less threatening, don't you think?

[She hobbles behind him and closes the door, locking it securely. She's speaking again before she even considers taking a seat.]

I'll get right to the point: name your terms of cooperation.

[muertederojo]

*He glances at her, taking a seat a safe distance away from her, setting his hat down beside him. Kimbley sighs heavily and rests his chin on clasped hands, elbows resting on his knees.*

What did you have to offer?

[wristsniper]

I don't work like that. If I have my way, someone will stand over you and make sure you're subdued every morning until we leave here.

I recommend you try to negotiate.

[muertederojo]

*He frowns. This was difficult.*

...Let me kill for you. If anyone impedes on your means of escape, let me handle them. That way you won't have as much blood on your your delicate hands.

[wristsniper]

And how do I know you won't abuse that?

[Just then, a small rabbit hops out of the kitchen, toward Olivier.]

[muertederojo]

*There's a small flinch, catching sight of the rabbit out of the corner of his eye.*

Give me a chance and you'll see.

[wristsniper]

[Olivier holds out one hand and pets the rabbit mildly.]

I need assurance.