"Of course. I expected nothing less, really." He sets two big fists on his hips and chuckles. "You have the potential to be one of the greats, Seshat. The example people might use, later, when we think of what the Seeded are capable of, versus the Impacted." He reaches up with a finger and pokes himself under the right eye, on the cheekbone.

"Ms. LaFaille, I'm sure you've surmised, wants your good graces for her pet project. You've turned Razor Thread's eye, too. Serval hasn't bothered, but I think he's making a mistake ignoring you. SRI is definitely sniffing your way. And you can bet Uplifter is, too."

He splays his hands out, palms up. "So, I've come bearing a warning, I suppose: The spotlights of Wetzstein, Liberation, GRF, Night's Host, and SRI suddenly all pointed at you in the past week. And it's making you cast very long shadows indeed.

"Liberation isn't your enemy, though."

"You misunderstand my goal. It's not to bring down the system. SRI has already graphed it; within the next few decades, we're expecting shard bearers and seeded to skyrocket and overtake the non. Humanity as most people knows it is being replaced. I am just laying out the safety mat for the future generations. Violently, but someone has to be there to shoulder the blame until it's too late. Until they accept what's happening."

He grins down at her. "We're terrorists, sure, but beyond my strike force, I am building a society, Miss Seshat. I would not say no to having you fight by my side, but my true goal is to make places where non-combative shards or auras can live without fear of ending up in the world governments' Power Bins. Where sharded inhabitants can study, and improve, and research and develop and build; and to do so with the requirement to ask permission from the government is directly proportional to how much risk there is. We'll keep an eye and a thumb on the bomb makers - but why should we hamper the stem cell researcher?"

"You will be a cornerstone to the new world, one way or another. I would prefer it be near me, at Liberation, with your peers, instead of under the rule of the unsharded, who come up with law after law to leash us. But I won't grab your arm and pull you. I won't go after your family, or your friends. Not unless you give me a reason to, anyway."

He then leans forwards. "But if you ever need a couch to crash, if you survive the eviction from the oppressive governmental apartment? Walk towards the fires. I'll be there."

"Idealistic." He looks towards the veteran hero with one fist on his hip. "As kids, we watched La Lame Argentée kick butt. We were in this fantasy that she had single handedly ended the war, even if the US put its two giant exclamation marks. At the time, she was the only real game in town, too. Before her, the last, publicly known sharded was Tesla. When I became impacted, it was this one in a million. I'd succeed the french vet. I was a rockstar, treated like one, and I saved lots of people and I felt great.

"Real american hero, patriot, soldier. I could be like my idol. But then we found out I was just element zero in this... ongoing shardstorm. Something must have exploded in the world they come from because there's a lot of them. Every country is seeing them, and not only that, but now we're competing against superpowered fauna, too. There's a tiger that became bipedal and sapient in Thailand, d'you know that? She's been offing poachers and raiding villages. Impacted."

"Sure. Have a good evening. Give Ms. Lafaille my regards." He smiles, and then, he's just gone. She didn't even blink. One moment he was, the next he ...wasn't. No fade, pop, poof or bamf.

Whatever kept the rest of the crowd from noticing, that seems to be gone, because she finds a pair of firm, elderly hands come on her shoulders from behind - La Lame Argentee's - to support her from slumping down due to clearly uneasy looking legs.

"Actual-8. Copies, 1. 1. 9. 2. 3, Seshat," an AI lady's voice responds. "Forwarding message to dispatch. Do you require urgent assistance?"

"Understood. Keep the situation stable until backup arrives." Then it hangs up, and she gets auto-invited to a YPA update group text. They're speed-deploying the Falcons and the Adders, while informing Steel Nova to be on standby.

La Lame mutters something to one of her bodyguard, who speaks in his wrist microphone. "Where was he? Where did you go when you saw him?" she asks down at Seshat. "What was he up to?"

It recorded everything just fine. Time went by normally, unlike in Hound-8's world. It recorded the whole encounter - visuals, audio, even picked up what haptic data she's got built in, so as far as her mask is concerned, it believes in every way that Cedilla was bodily present talking to her.

"I had kept an eye over the crowd for the past little while... I had assumed you left, or otherwise walked out of the room. Some sort of illusion, then?" She frowns, looking out over the doors. "That was brazen, even for him."

"My bodyguards are getting antsy, too." She puts a hand on Seshat's shoulder. "Take care, and talk to you later."

And with that, she's left, La Lame Argentee walking away with her suits. The crowd is getting dispersed, naturally. Jacob, thankfully, has the good sense to realize that something is going on and is easing out with the crowd instead of trying to go back to her.

A few minutes after that, a "Seshat!" voice comes as a pack of little golden dragonflies hover up through the doors. They form up, and with a quick flash of light, they are replaced with Iry, touching down with her crystally dragonfly wings buzzing. She's got something that looks like a thin, plate outfit on, some sort of plastic, with a matching - dragonfly themed - helmet.

By then, a perimeter's been set up and it's just about empty, though there hasn't been any explosions or anything, so doesn't seem like they caught him.

"Are you alright?"

"It'd be the second time Liberation used another incident to distract from an attack. Feels way too early, though - the GRF is still patrolling, and we're even seeing the Night Host making passes by the west coast." She frowns, crossing her arms while idly bouncing off of one foot like she's in low-gravity, her wings buzzing slightly in irritation with every hop.

"Well, anyway, point is, we couldn't find anything." She takes out a smartphone, starting to tap at it, and Seshat receives a map labeled YPA situational routes. "Actual wants you to take route B. Hound-8 is setting up a monitoring trailer and wants to talk to you there. Fair warning, though, there's some suits with her. She isn't happy.

"The Seto Dragonflies and Steel Nova are in standby in case of heavy trouble, so you'll be shadowed by the Camo Ferrets. I'm to take you down to ground level through the hall window... I think that's the whole message. Questions, comments?" She smiles at her.

"O-kaaay." She grabs the window and swings it open. "Watch your step!" Iin a flash of light, she becomes a little army of dragonflies. They ease out the window and form a line that heads down to the bottom. Once in position, a little, golden glowing circular 'pad' forms atop of each one, forming a staircase down the story and a half to the street below.

It doesn't look super safe, but Iry is (are?) seeming to fly pretty stable.

There's not really any give... The platform is projected, clearly, and is strong enough to hold her weight, without straining Iry, even split up. There still aren't any railings, and she can't imagine Iry could maintain it if there was a sudden explosion or something.

But she reaches the ground, and the girl reforms to give her a thumbs up. "It's not much for fighting, but it's great for scouting and rescue missions, hence Flying Adders. Good luck. I'll talk to you later."

Iry splits again and the dragonflies go every which way. Overhead, she can see a couple others floating and scouting around. Near the start of her assigned route, there's a teenage, rather girly looking boy - or boyish looking girl - with long, dark hair and a slim pair of glasses, dressed in a slim, formal-casual looking suit.

Even up a little closer, it's still hard to tell. The squareness of his bone structure is hidden in the suit, and the way it doesn't cinch at the waist gives a boyish allure. ...but put him in a skirt and a girl sized shirt and it'd probably be impossible to tell. His skin is on the darker side of Caucasian - sunbeat, outdoors a lot sort of style. He's immaculate, his hair is shiny and looks practically silky, moving like dark water strands, and the black of his eyes looks particularly deep.

"Yo." He pushes up off of the lamppost, raising a hand in greeting. "Yeah, that's right. R&D, of Camo Ferrets. Infiltrator, disguise expert, analytics, research, development, and tinkering. Nice to finally meet you, Seshat." Voice has a boy timber to it, but it's not deep. It's soft... he's probably voice trained, and must be able to sing nicely.

"I'll be with you to the trailer. Tezcacoatl will follow up on the rooftops, and Garra will be following us from underground."

Hard to tell how in-shape he might be. Enough to be a cape, anyway. If he's put off by the nervous ranting that comes out of Seshat's mouth, he has more than enough grace to not show it or point it out. It actually makes him smile, and for a moment she can imagine as if the orange, setting sun had dipped behind his head, enough to cast rays of light through the locks of his hair, even if it doesn't actually happen that way. It feels supernatural.

"We'll figure out how to work in the same space first, so we don't impede each other's projects. Then, once we know how we both work, we can learn how to collaborate. I think this'll work out. Haven't had another inventor in the YPA since years before I joined. I'm excited."

He nods his head down the street, and begins to walk - right side along the sidewalk. Traffic is non-existant due to the perimeter, and cars have been left behind rather than risk Cedilla driving off among them. "I can relate to the skintone thing, too; Polynesian grandparents."