"...Spartan, I can't lie," Rook said, his expression slightly awkward behind the sunglasses. He hated admitting to faults in himself, particularly such obvious, glaring Achilles heels. "I'm not saying that because of some moral objection, I'm literally not capable of it, my tongue's enchanted. If they ask me any questions, my tongue will try and answer automatically. About the best I can give you is a blank look."
He glanced at Anya.
"Just how good at lying to people are you?"
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Well....he certainly didn't expect that sort of a plan. For a moment the surfer-ish looking Manikin had a look on his face that said duuuuude, what are you thinking? but he quickly went back into Team Player mode and put his own reservations aside in favor of making it work.
Looking up at the wall of the building, he wondered just how badly he wanted to go through with this, but....what was it about Summer and Sacrifice. As long as he wasn't swept into custody by some burly orderlies, divested of any 'harmful' clothing, and held down while he was jabbed with a syringe's worth of sedatives he figured he would be all right. Funny thing how that stuff could affect even his artificial body.
"Right. How convincing do you want it to be? My kid here thinks he's a robot?"
Well, actually the kid knew he was a robot...cyborg actually, thank you very much but no-one else could see it. It was the first bitter lesson the Manikin had learned when he returned from There. What made sense and was real to him was cause for papers to be filed and see you in about 45 days with time added if there wasn't a sign of improvement.
Looking over at Clare, he smiled slightly, then, "I'm....not sure actually. Time is sort of weird with me. I guess I look about the same as I did....age-wise, that is. Beyond that...it's something that's hard to figure out if I'm still the same age or newer because of the machine body."
Anya responded to Rook with a nonchalant shrug. "I'm alright." A tiny smile graced her lips and she studied the Metalflesh closely for a minute, taking a small step closer. "Don't worry... darling, you're mute. After the accident."
Besides, pushing the attention onto Rook kept her from feeling slightly odd about the scenario. There had been too many reminders lately of her children; and now she must pretend they were here with her. A fang nibbled absently on her lower lip, eyes narrowing slightly as she studied her "son".
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"Aight, so we are all on the same page then?" asks Swilla as he looks from one Summer Courtier to the next. He takes the duffel bag handed to him by Spartan and the looks up at the building in front of them. "Do we have a backup plan, in case shit gets real...real fast?"
"...Darling?" Rook raised an eyebrow, staring at Anya's inscrutable, reptilian features. "...You better not be enjoying this." He shook his head very slightly. At least he could probably pull off being mute. He'd just have to bite his tongue until they found the gate and look as serious as possible.
She's enjoying this, isn't she?
On some deep level, he felt the Board stirring, eying Anya. Tentatively, it asked the question.
Enemy... piece?
Even the moral strictures of the Board were confused.
"We are the backup plan Swilla." The Hopelite King says as he looks to the Crocagator... "If our desception does not work, then force will be necessary..."
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Clare notes the others reactions, and turns back to Justin. "Yeah. I know how that is. I should be Thirty-two, but I look like I'm 26..." She gives a shrug, then sighs. "I'm not that great at lying myself, but I'll do what I can for this..."
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Is the Summer King really suggesting that they beat up a bunch of innocent people, if their original plan does not work? Swilla is slightly surprised by this. Is not that the suggestion of violence bothers him, but the Coldscales doesn't feel to inclined to walking into a place and start swinging at people that have done nothing wrong.
"Wait a minute, so you are suggestin' that if plan A doesn't work, we just start beating up on a bunch of innocent people?" asks the large reptilian man, not at all amused by the idea. His predatory eyes look deep into the hoplite's for a moment, as silence fills the air.
"I don't mean no disrespect, but that's fucked up!" says Swilla as he shakes his head. "I wanna get these bastards just as bad as you do, but I ain't gonna be hurting innocent people just to get to them. If we do that, how are we any better than those fuckin' assholes?"
Rook raised an eyebrow at Spartan's plan, and cleared his throat.
"...Or we could jump into the Hedge from outside," he said quietly. "The orderlies are just ordinary people, Spartan, they're not enemy piec-soldiers. It'll be easier if we can find the gate, but we should be close if we go in from out here, we'll just need to find our way to the tree." The Constable was almost glad to be able to turn his attention from Anya, but he had the uncomfortable impression that the back of his head was somehow transparent to her.
The uneasy thought occurred to him that perhaps Anya could read his mind.
Anya didn't respond to Rook, but a tiny smile appeared - was she enjoying this? Or did she simply act as if that were the case to purposely confuse the Constable? Perhaps her responses actually had nothing to do with the Metalflesh at all, and it was just in the Draconic's nature to act in ways that set people on edge.
Whatever the reasons, Anya was completely nonplussed by Rook's reaction. Maybe by now, she had come to expect it from him, of all people.
"I agree," she commented, her voice soft but firm. "If we start a fight, we'll draw unwanted attention, and innocents will be hurt in the crossfire. Places like this may hire private security, we cannot risk entering the Hedge injured, because we had to fight them."
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