Say It Like You Mean It, Attn:Maris,Constance [fishw/permission]

[Constance Bravil]

One thing that served the Alliance's purposes above all else was the fact that Confederates were an ultimately predictable species. Push a certain button, and they inevitably reacted the same way. Prick them, and they always bled. The exalted High General exemplified this point of view as he proceeded to charge towards Angler heedless of the consequences involved. Bullies, that's what Dolomar's military produced without fail. Both sides of her identity disdained Villa for that.

She'd been merciful thus far, maneuvering to disable instead of damage her opponent. However, if he kept up this behavior much longer, no one could blame the infamously disciplined Wing Commander from defending herself with whatever force was necessary. His rank stopped protecting him after his first attempted blow. As much as Conner did her best to keep her personal feelings from coloring her actions, she had to admit the thought of putting Villa in his place was a pleasant one. The only man she'd rather pound into the ground right now was Sorn, the original source of all this trouble.

In the end, Constance never got the chance. Maris and her tractor beam grip intervened, halting the High General mid-way through his lunge. The maneuver violated every principle of physics the pilot understood. Villa looked to outmass the Grand Admiral's administrative aide by a couple dozen kilos. No way the slender and statuesque woman should've been able to kill the momentum of his charge like that. She should've been yanked off her feet for even trying a stunt like that. But there it was.

Nor was the blonde woman done disregarding natural law tonight. With a seemingly effortless gesture on Maris' part, Villa became an airborne projectile, clearing the length of Conner's living room. The whole kriffing living room! Angler watched the sequence of events carried out, gone wide eyed and still as a herbivore afraid of attracting a predator's attention. After all, that's what Maris had just proven herself to be, whatever other identity she might claim. That's why Villa was afraid of her, as Paol had noted the previous evening... and why Constance found she suddenly was too.

Lowering her arms to her sides, the Corellian observed the staring match between the two Confederates in silence. The spy discovered she could take no enjoyment out of seeing the High General humbled now. In fact, she felt a touch sorry for the bastard. Not for getting tossed around so much; he'd asked for every ounce. Maris hadn't done anything wrong there. But becoming the helpless victim of someone you had no chance of defending yourself against... that would be a harsh punishment for any sentient.

The bright side to all this was that Maris' manhandling appeared to have knocked some sense back into the Dolomarian's dense skull. Taking up the datapad again, Villa approached the pilot in a far less arrogant manner than before. Conner kept her countenance carefully neutral as everyone's attention swung back to her. She refused to show how much she'd been bothered by this little scene. Displaying weakness before the enemy was unconscionable in her book.

“I’m sorry. About the other night, and... just now.”

An apology. This whole fracking mess over a simple apology. Were she in a better, less wary mood, Conner may well have laughed at the excess of irony. As it was, she merely fixed her technical superior with an evaluative look. He meant the words only inasmuch as he earnestly wanted Maris to approve of his efforts. Still silent, the pilot relieved Villa of his minor burden with a gentle tug. A quick scan of the datapad's glowing surface confirmed it to be a longer written version of the same 'sentiment'. Commander Bravil didn't know what to make of Grand Admiral Stone insisting she be apologized to, and at the moment she very much wished the flag officer had ordered otherwise.

The deep-cover agent refocused her attention on the man standing before her. "Apology accepted." Calm words simply spoken, devoid of any trace of sympathy. She doubted he'd appreciate it. "Was there anything else either of you needed from me this evening, sir?" From her behavior, one would think they'd never strayed from the realm of polite conversation.

[Maris Kala'myr]

It was a deep and terrible shame that Maris had to go to such extremes to elicit a simple apology from a man such as the high general. This shouldn't have been difficult. It should have been a two minute affair where both parties, though loathing each and every moment, bared their teeth and acted civilly. Constance seemed to understand this elementary idea. But just how Lelouch Villa had achieved the rank of high general without a modicum of decorum or even a sliver of political savvy was beyond her computations. From the appalling display she had the dire misfortune of witnessing, High General Lelouch Villa was no better than a first year cadet who had yet to understand his place in the galaxy.

A strange possessiveness had taken hold of the droid in the moments preceding the feral charge of the high general. Although the information Maris knew of friendship came from many sources, many of which abstract psychological dissertations and anthropological research, one fact shone through; friends were a valuable resource and the utmost care needed to be taken in their preservation. Constance would be preserved.

And in a less than wholesome light, Lelouch Villa was firmly in Maris' sights. She had witnessed his drunken antics in the Ice Tap and had computed them to be the actions of a man who's faculties had been clouded with alcohol and not as a testament to his character. But in the ferocious manner he went for a fellow officer without the slightest provocation and possessing a mind uninflected by a drunken haze, Maris saw the true Lelouch; and she did not like him. May the Confederation of Dolomar protect their precious high general if he ever lay another finger on her friend.

“I’m sorry, about the other night, and... just now.”

Maris grinned like a droid who got the last fuse coupler. She nodded in approval as the general sent her an expectant glance. The murderous fury hidden behind her crystal blue eyes was easy to contain. In fact, not a byte of her diminished opinion of Lelouch Villa touched her countenance. While it was true that he had apologised, an epic milestone to say the least, subtle tells in his facial expressions and the tenor of his voice spoke otherwise. It was not a heartfelt apology, but Maris was pleased with it nonetheless.

"Apology accepted. Was there anything else either of you needed from me this evening, sir?"

As expected, and in accordance with every social norm and convention, Constance accepted the apology. Maris nodded a small thank you to her friend and smiled.
"Thank you, General Villa. You may be excused," she said, turning back to Lelouch with an endearing grin that masked every aspect of horrible violence that she was capable of. She waited patiently for him to alight the room.