"Wait, Stop all of you. I see your point. But we need that hedge gate. That one. Finding another will not be hard, but finding our way to there specific base will be difficult in the ever changing hedge." Spartan paused wishing very much that he could hit something or someone.
"Lets go in. If they turn us away, we will deal with it then. But I will not rule out having to force our way in. If it comes to that we will do our best not to harm anyone. Is that understood?"
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Justin had been quiet during the discussion and he was concerned about the potential of collateral damage, but when Spartan asked for the confirmation of his orders, the Manikin nodded.
"I understand, sir."
Looking over at Rook and Anya, his expression was lacking its usual affable quality. If anything, there was a sense of his drawing on personal resolve so he would not be That Guy who screwed it up. With a tight smile on his face the Manikin walked over and joined his 'parents'.
Rook raised an eyebrow at Spartan, wondering why the King of Summer thought they needed to find another, specific gate to enter the Hedge. The way he figured it, opening an entrance by force from this side, near to the actual gate, was much easier then attempting to burst their way in and possibly causing casualties. He, personally, didn't want innocent human blood on his hands because Spartan couldn't be bothered to think of a different route.
No, that sort of attitude belonged to people like Rust Mane. People who'd stopped giving a damn, people who were too cowardly to admit that murder was the route of loyalists and privateers, and that Summer was always better than that.
'Do our best'? Our best is not doing it, Spartan!
It conflicted with the source of his orders, and he bit down on his tongue, forcing the truth away. Disobedience was complicated, and he wasn't going to start an argument right here. Not unless Spartan decided to follow through with his plan. With that in mind, he leant in to Anya's ear.
"You had better be as good at this as you claim. Because there isn't room for failure," he hissed, for her ears only. His mantle flared around him, the board blazing.
Whatever Anya may had thought about the plan, or anyone's intentions once inside the mental institution, is lost as the Metalflesh spoke to her. Her head tips to one side as she listened to him, leaning in slightly to keep the conversation between them.
The Draconic smiled slowly, idly she ran her tongue across the wicked bronze fangs.
She would never come along on a mission and not do her damnedest to succeed. Dragons did not like to fail, challenging monsters that they were. The very thought of losing, of being caught out made the darkness inside her churn.
Anya shook her head gently. "Oh, don't worry, darling. I'll b sure to play my part quite well-."
Reaching up, she ran a talon across the Metalflesh's face, and pressed her lips to his. The seconds passed quickly enough; the show was for him, not anyone else.
"-If you remember to play yours."
The Draconic drew back, and smiled thinly at her "son". "Shall we?"
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There was a sour taste in Clare's mouth as she nods. She had to admit, if it comes to it, she'd rather fight through the hedge than innocents.
And then she caught Anya kissing Rook and blinked in surprise. Well. They were getting into this.... Maybe they could pull off the deception...
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Swilla doesn't seem entirely convinced with the idea of using force if necessary, but the large crocodile man just shrugs. "This better wok," he says in an unamused tone. "Well, let's get to it so we can go deal what we came here to deal with."
Rook was about to say something when Anya locked lips with him and sauntered off.
For a moment, he just looked totally blank.
"..." His tongue didn't seem to find the words for a moment.
"...Very convincing..." the Constable muttered after another moment's thought.
What in the blazes...
With a soft breath, Anya moved toward the door of the institution. She paused long enough only to turn, and wink at Rook. "Yes, I would hope so," she remarked.
The Draconic presumably meant that in the context of her pretending to be his wife. But then, she did like to just fuck with his head sometimes.
Spartan follows the others inside and shakes his head at the Tete`-a-tete΄ between the Metalflesh and the Dragon lady
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Clare sighs, then turns back to Justin, and pats his shoulder forcefully. "Come on, then, Justin. Let's get you to the loony bin."
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