"Knowing what I do about our clients, I expect they'll chafe at the chaperones, but it's likely a good idea regardless. At the very least the chaperones can restate why we think they're so likely to be compatible. Meeting in a room at our office in Seattle will likely make Ancile most comfortable," mostly due to the ease of storming out to drown her sorrows in the spiciest noodles in town if it falls through, "so that's my recommendation of a location."

She nods sharply. "And I completely agree on the mutual NDA. I would've been disappointed in you if you didn't insist on one.

"Are you going to be chaperoning personally, or sending another staffer?"

Daniel nods in return. "I'll be coming personally." Liath can be damn persuasive when she's backlashing, it's the confidence. Best to have himself on it. It'll schedule Vault a little more, but he has a good guide, he can handle it. 

"Good. Likewise." She nods, then decides to throw him a bone. "Would you like to give them the good news, once we have them in the same room?"

Hopefully that will build a small amount of trust from Hailey, which should help their ability to work together in the future. 

He nods. "Thank you. I would like to, yes. Are there any other matters you would like to discuss before we break up the meeting?"

"Just a note that Ancile would ideally prefer to avoid handshakes — or touch at all — from people she does not yet trust. She'll be willing to try a test handshake with Singularity, but after that it will be best to give her a chance to gradually get used to her before more physical contact. Time in each other's presence, gradually escalating contact duration, things like that. She's willing to push past her hurts here for the sake of clearing her and her partner's backlash, but it is easiest on her after trust has been established."

Daniel nods firmly. "Understood. I'll inform Singularity."

He stands. "Thank you for your time."

"Thank you as well."

Once the call ends, she sends a message to Hailey.

Guiding Star apologized heavily on behalf of Singularity, and gave up several concessions to keep us on board. I think you have strong potential with Singularity, if she turns out to be one of the few you can trust, and Guiding Star seems willing to go the extra mile to find out. Singularity's dismissive comment was backlash driven and unendorsed, and both she and Guiding Star still want to make this work.

Still willing to try?

Ancile is not available right now. She is coping with her stiff, aching, backlash-wracked body the only way she can: as much electricity as she can stand short of electrical burns.

Daniel calls Liath. "Mixed news, do you want to hear it?"

"Just give me the good part for right now, I don't want to crush another phone."

"Ancile's still on board and we still think the match is good. We're arranging a meeting between us and Ancile's people at their headquarters. You didn't destroy your chances."

Liath lets out a small breath. "Let me guess, you had to make concessions to keep the contract."

"Yeah. A fairly long list. But mostly their rep wanted to make sure Ancile's needs were taken care of, and that's the right set of priorities. We'll be scheduling you to meet Ancile whenever is convenient for Black Flag."

Her hand squeezes the phone hard, but without her power behind it she doesn't damage the chunky plastic. "Alright," she says. "That's fair. I'll try and prep an apology."

"I'll go over the wording with you once you have a draft together. Good luck."

"Thanks. I'll use it as best I can."

Daniel hangs up.

Yeah, Daniel's still kind of ticked. She's getting the professional face rather than the personal one. Guiding Star must be running damage control right now. 

She puts the phone carefully back on its reciever and goes and punches her couch. 

It doesn't help. 

She wants to rip the cushion apart, spill its plush guts all over the floor — 

Liath schools her breathing down. That kind of thinking is why she is not allowed scissors or non-plastic knives in her silo these days. 

She goes over to the whiteboard on her wall and starts writing an apology letter in felt-tipped marker. 

Dear Ancile... 

Eventually, Hailey has hurt enough that she feels like something resembling a real person again, rather than someone phoning in through a century-old landline to an achy statue.

Huh, she has a message from Valerie. She reads it.

Then she sighs, hard. Matches this (supposedly) good don't come around every day. Or every year.

Fine. I'll give it a try. We're going out for a spicy sub on the way there, though. I need to be in a less-shitty mood if this is going to have a shot.

Deal. My treat. The details will be in your calendar once we've got it scheduled.

Okay, now to work out the scheduling with Daniel.

The Black Flag offices are set into an esper-constructed small mountain on the outskirts of Seattle, just close enough to have easy transit access. Inside, they're a mix of industrial-chic and green spaces with a few hints of doompunk. Daniel and Liath's arrival point is in a small lounge area with comfortable chairs and moss-and-flower-covered walls, and a staffer is waiting there to lead them through a hallway that overlooks some imposing machinery to a cylindrical meeting room suspended from the exposed rock face of the ceiling.

(Inspiration image from the White Mountain offices at the end of this page. Picture that with comfier chairs.)

Valerie sits near the table, facing the door, wearing a sharply tailored business suit that somehow looks casual, pink hair tied back in a ponytail. She stands to greet them with a smile.

Ancile is a slender, 5'3" young woman with supernaturally-messy black hair, faintly glowing green eyes, and a thoughtful frown. She's wearing a dark green denim jacket with easy pockets, a black crop-top with a stylized silver dagger-and-shield print, snug black jeans, and black combat boots.

Her aura feels like locked-up muscle begging to be painfully stretched to mobility again, or an uncomfortable shell of stone that longs for a hammer and chisel. It feels like a fresh canvas of skin stretched taut, awaiting a knife to carve bloody artwork into her surface, like overwhelming distance, desperate to be bridged as sharply as possible. The fierce need to be torn to shreds until she feels human again is so loud that Liath can almost taste it.

Not a whit of this shows on her face, however. She looks firm, thoughtful, and considering.

Above all else, she looks guarded, like she's not sure about letting herself hope. (That is, however, more hopeful than anyone's seen her look in quite a while.)

Liath Belaria, AKA Singularity, is a six-foot-one woman with the build of a model, tending a bit to the underfed side. Her hair is red and straight: her eyes are a deep ruby, an esper's color. She wears a professionally tailored blazer jacket and a white linen shirt, but in place of a tie she wears a four-pointed-star pin on her lapel, inset with an opal. She wears black-dyed jeans beneath the formal top, good for running in and that won't show stains, and a set of black utilitarian combat boots. 

As soon as she steps into the room, Hailey can feel her aura. It coils with backlash: it feels corrupt, almost murderous, like the aura wants to do violence of its own will and is only restrained by the focus of its wielder. Where the edge of that aura spills out of her body and contacts the remnants of Hailey's backlash, the desire to hurt and the desire to be hurt find mutual satisfaction in the air, and annihilate. It's not as potent as the touch of Hailey's previous guide, but it feels like there is finally something of the same caliber as her aura in the room.

Daniel shakes Valerie's hand, and gestures to Liath. 

"Thank you for hosting us," he says. "I'm Daniel Marks, Singularity's agent with Guiding Star; and this is Liath Belaria, aka Singularity. Liath, Ms. Mitchell here is my opposite number with Black Flag, and this is the woman she represents, Hailey Willburg, aka Ancile." He looks back and forth between the two of them. "I'll give you two a moment to adjust to each other's auras."

Liath's gaze goes from Hailey's face to her combat boots and jeans, then back to her face again. A slight smile creases her face. She can feel Hailey's aura in the air too, which is more than she was ever able to do for any previous guide. Suddenly she really wants this meeting to go well. 

"Ms. Willburg." She doesn't extend a hand to shake, remembering Daniel's coaching; instead she bows slightly. "My sincere apologies for the earlier incident. I would not have said that had I been thinking more clearly. I hope we can move past that and form a mutually agreeable relationship."

I can taste your aura, and it tastes delicious. Not to mention being on the right side of the practicality versus fashion line. Let's see who you are, Ancile. 

Hailey stands as Liath approaches her, taking in the sharp sting of relief as their auras touch. She moves with the forced fluidity of someone pushing past backlash-induced stiffness, carefully looking her potential guide up and down.

Sharply dressed, with enough break from business norms to wear something other than a tie. Extremely practical under the nod to formality. Very much my type, although I can see the physical cost of her backlash. Her aura feels like the sharp release of a knife breaking skin.

After Liath bows and speaks, Hailey responds with an exactly identical bow, moving smoothly despite her rigidly aching joints.

"Thank you for your apology. I understand the costs backlash can impose, especially on one's judgment. I hope we can grow to trust and lean on each other."

Bowed instead of a handshake, clearly informed of my trauma by our handlers, able to take direction despite clearly badly suffering under her backlash. Sign her remark maybe really was a backlash-induced one-off, and perhaps she's only a bitch in the fun ways rather than the frustrating ones.