Round 186 Transcript

The tension in collapsing dock (east side) tightens for a beat as the interruption refuses to go away. Everyone is forced to stay quiet and choose their next move carefully.

Jeane's crimson eyes flicker dangerously as she feels her shield magic stutter again. Five minutes of this… arrangement? she hisses back to Silra, you drive a hard bargain, rogue, but fine—five minutes before I freeze solid or this shield gives out. With a supreme effort of will, she allows herself to lean against Silra's smaller frame, hating the intimacy but knowing her core temperature is dropping fast. And if those guards get any closer, I don't care what kind of distraction you have planned—I'm not going down for corporate crimes when there's a demonic conspiracy to uncover here. Her breath forms white clouds in the cold air as she mutters darkly, So don't fuck this up, because if we're both arrested, I swear on my ancestors' graves that I'll make your last few days very… uncomfortable indeed. Got it?

Silra's pointed ears twitch, hyper-aware of every sound from outside the shed as she maintains a calculated distance from Jeane. Five minutes? she repeats, her voice a dry whisper that barely carries over the creaking metal around them. Let's be clear—this isn't an arrangement. It's survival math, pure and simple. I'll get us out of here before your shield flickers again or we both freeze to death. Her teal eyes dart to the crack in the door where guards are visible, then back to Jeane's crimson ones. And as for what I'm going to do? I'm going to pick those locks faster than you can say 'demonic conspiracy,' but if you start sparkling like a cheap streetwalker demon before then… Silra's slim fingers drum against the wrench she holds, her movements precise despite the cold numbing her fingers. Let's just say I'd rather not have to explain why two women are huddled together in a freezing shed looking like we're about to start a coven meeting. So stand down on the threats, princess—focus on keeping that shield steady long enough for me to actually do something useful instead of scaring off every guard with your demonic glow. She shifts slightly, trying to angle their bodies so Jeane's wings are less obvious beneath the wet jacket. And as for what I'm going to do… Silra's pointed ears twitch at Jeane's earlier tone. You're not making sense. Torture by paperwork? Death by committee meeting? Do tell—sounds like a fascinating skill set you've got there.