LOHDUTUS
What might have been perfectly obvious was far better to hear out loud, a form of emotional assurance more than anything. After all, words were only as good as the mouths that spoke them, or fingers that typed in this case.
Perhaps better not to delve into that thought too deeply.
Evelynn relaxed, the laser-focus of her stare softening with a satisfactory answer and instead, turning to amusement as the Home Secretary of the First Order attempted to reference the golden elephant in the room. A sense of buyer's remorse started to creep in slowly, I mean, what kind of ostentatious monster gets a gilded prosthetic? It seemed like such a good idea at the time...
...wait, cosmetic alterations? The woman tilted her head, considering the implication of a First Order sanctioned nose job. Somehow that was more offensive than the notion of being extradited. Changing a name was easy, but changing a face? There was something novel in it all, but also disconcerting. A real commitment to a new life.
Grim necessities and all that, she supposed.
The Grand Duchess Helena Hudor-Tudor and Captain Dante Flameborn brought her back into the fold with a small double-take.
“I believe so, yes,” she typed in return, still internally digesting the words Hudor-Tudor like an expired mind sandwich, “cosmetic alterations and all.”
She drummed her gloved mechanical fingers on the table for a moment, face steeped in chronic contemplation as she lined up her next question.
“The probationary period,” she began, the start of her sentence made disjointed by the robotic voice of her device, “is there a set time frame, or is it a matter of judgement? Just how severe will this surveillance be?” Evelynn paused after that last question, conceding a small shrug that seemed rather self-conscious. “Not that I wish to look a gift bantha in the mouth, or seem overly suspicious. I'd just prefer to be aware of these things if that is possible."
Perhaps better not to delve into that thought too deeply.
Evelynn relaxed, the laser-focus of her stare softening with a satisfactory answer and instead, turning to amusement as the Home Secretary of the First Order attempted to reference the golden elephant in the room. A sense of buyer's remorse started to creep in slowly, I mean, what kind of ostentatious monster gets a gilded prosthetic? It seemed like such a good idea at the time...
...wait, cosmetic alterations? The woman tilted her head, considering the implication of a First Order sanctioned nose job. Somehow that was more offensive than the notion of being extradited. Changing a name was easy, but changing a face? There was something novel in it all, but also disconcerting. A real commitment to a new life.
Grim necessities and all that, she supposed.
The Grand Duchess Helena Hudor-Tudor and Captain Dante Flameborn brought her back into the fold with a small double-take.
“I believe so, yes,” she typed in return, still internally digesting the words Hudor-Tudor like an expired mind sandwich, “cosmetic alterations and all.”
She drummed her gloved mechanical fingers on the table for a moment, face steeped in chronic contemplation as she lined up her next question.
“The probationary period,” she began, the start of her sentence made disjointed by the robotic voice of her device, “is there a set time frame, or is it a matter of judgement? Just how severe will this surveillance be?” Evelynn paused after that last question, conceding a small shrug that seemed rather self-conscious. “Not that I wish to look a gift bantha in the mouth, or seem overly suspicious. I'd just prefer to be aware of these things if that is possible."
