3nanashi | (no subject)

This time X does not bother nodding in return, just lets her attention drift from Trowa and toward the view from his window.

Her head tilts ever-so-slightly as she listens.

It is almost as powerful a tool as scent.

She makes use of them both.

Trowa cants his head at her fractionally as he closes his laptop. (After setting the habitual protection measures.) Anything of interest?

He's mostly asking if there's anything out there she wants more details about. But -- even though he's got years of experience in monitoring this circus, and even though he stepped into Milliways just minutes ago by this world's time, and even though X doesn't seem tense -- if you've got a superpowered and sensible friend, it's just stupid to not pay attention to what they notice.

X shakes her head, just once.

Though her expression suggests she is still listening to what is going on outside.

(This is unlikely to change anytime soon.)

"There are animals. Here."

She hesitates --

And stays silent.

"Lions," Trowa agrees. "And elephants. And a couple of people have pets."

"We'll see them."

From a distance, depending on what X wants, but they're relevant to the tour. For a few reasons -- they're relevant to reconnaissance, and they're Trowa's friends.

"There are cats?"

X's attention sharpens. Fractionally.

(In this respect, among others, she is predictable.)

"Besides the lions."

Elephants are irrelevant.

Trowa shakes his head. "Nobody right now. They're hard to keep track of during moves, sometimes."

"A dog and two snakes."

The importation paperwork is hell for that with all the colony travel, but Grant clearly considers it worth it for his beloved albino corn snakes. Trowa does not judge. (Just assesses.)

"They are constrictors?"

X is curious.

And -- at least for a few seconds -- she sounds it, too.

"The snakes."

"Small ones. Corn snakes."

If she doesn't know the species, he can give more detail.

"Oh."

X absorbs that.

"You like them? The snakes."

And the dog. Of course.

(X does not need to ask about the lions.)

Trowa shrugs. "Sure."

He does.

Not as much as the giant predators. And they spend most of their time in their cage in Grant's trailer. But he gets along with them well, all the same.

"Okay."

She is silent for a few seconds, listening to the sounds of the circus again.

Then, with quick sideways glance at Trowa, she shifts position and starts heading for the door --

Slowly enough that she will be easy to overtake.

Trowa has no objection!

He'll move to half a step ahead by the time they're going through the door. He's the tour guide, after all. (The translation of this is: in new territory, it's the friendly thing to let X be at his back, instead of vice versa.)

"The war ended seven years ago," he says, while they're passing through the kitchen. No one will overhear at this volume, not with the door closed. "There was a brief coup attempt the following year, but other than that the peace has held. You could be in law enforcement or bodyguarding, if you need to come up with a job, or anything in the civilian sector."

"Bodyguard," X says, succinctly.

"It is a more efficient skill set."

And this way she does not have to know procedures.

Helpful!

Trowa nods. Makes sense!

And because this isn't the sort of scenario where anyone's going to question her beyond whatever vague details she chooses to give, they don't really need to work out a cover story in more depth. Accordingly, he proceeds out into the balmy L2 afternoon.

It's not technically sunny; that's because colonies are enclosed, and the interior doesn't actually get sunlight. But the ambient light is afternoon-bright.

X does not squint. She does, however, take a series of brief looks around.

Gaping like a tourist is not in her toolbox. She has no plans to put it in, either. (Especially not here.)

There are places Trowa likes to go? Or likes to show off?

It is difficult to know, offhand. And X is terrible at guessing.

Because it's X, Trowa's path is going to be what he considers a sensible one. That is to say, a systematic circle through the non-restricted areas, to facilitate assessment of the terrain. (The non-restricted areas are most of them, when you're with Trowa.)

Because it's the circus, they're likely to get curious looks and occasional people wandering by for a brief and discreetly inquisitive chat. So far, it's only the glances, though, and just a couple of them.

Trowa gives her a moment to take in the ~~terrain~~ sights, before he starts across the grass.

The circus usually sets up in a park of some sort; it's a good central area for the big top, and in the colonies parks are among the few areas with a lot of open space for trailers and tents. (The other common option is a parking lot. Grass is better on everybody's legs, though, and the only parking lot around here is where they need the audience to be able to park.)

X meets the looks as she passes, holding them for a moment or two before looking away. It is not meant to be dismissal.

She notes which of them move like people with combat skills, which could overpower her at close range, and which may (or may not) regard Trowa with surety.

A larger mental database is always better.

Always.

(The current people in view are Kylie Walsh, who's spent her life working in the circus and with elephants, who gives them a quick look and turns back to her laptop; Jenny Trieste, quiet with strangers but currently animated, who's taken martial arts but never put it to use, and who's regarding them with friendly curiosity; and Roy Garcia Schultze, sword-swallower and recent addition to some of the highwire routines. He's one of the few people in the circus with military experience, but he was support staff and only saw combat a couple of times; he lifts a hand to Trowa (who nods in return greeting), tips a curious glance at X, and goes back to his conversation with Jenny.)

First up is the practice area. There's a low wire strung between poles, and a pile of mats stacked near a portable foam pit. Some distance away is a rectangle blocked off with bright tape, with a few targets and a dense backdrop to catch any stray knives. None of it's covered; rain's not scheduled for another three days.

(X may nod to the people that make welcoming gestures, but waving is something that happens to other people. It is not a pity.)

X appears fascinated by the low wire, gaze flicking away to Trowa and then back again.

It could be a request for a demonstration.

Or a request for permission.

Well. Sure.

Trowa cants his head slightly towards the wire. Does she want to give it a go, or . . . ?

X casts another quick look between Trowa and the wire, then crouches down to take off her boots.

A few seconds later she is making her way to the wire, pausing to study it -- and take stock of the wind -- before she sets her foot down.

Hmm.

This will be interesting.

Trowa makes the educated assessment that X does not need a spotter -- she may fall, but it's not that far, and there are mats -- and also that she does not need the complication of somebody else on the wire just yet.

Accordingly, he strips off his own shoes and socks, and heads for the opposite pole. He'll climb to the small platform there, and wait.

Sometimes a demonstration is useful. But X can give it a go on her own first, if she wants.

Clearly, sometime in the past, Trowa has been unwise enough to allow Duo uninhibited access to his phone. Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D Minor starts playing.

X does not startle -- she has been better trained than that.

But she does go still on the wire, toes curling to get a better grip, and looks to Trowa.

Is it an emergency?

Well, it's Duo.

So potentially, but probably not. Especially given the current context.

"Duo," he says to her in explanation, and slips the phone out of his pocket. Into the phone: "Hi."