Between the Lines

Posted on Tue Dec 6th, 2022 @ 9:43am by Captain Reuben Gregnol (Mirror) & Evanna Belyaev

Mission: Mirror Mirror
Location: Imperial Palace
Timeline: 2397
3381 words - 6.8 OF Standard Post Measure

"It would be easier to count who isn't watching."

The remark, rendered in a language best understood by the two most active participants in the conversation, sat in Belyaev's lower register as mild amusement. As much as the dancefloor had been her idea, and a reasonable one at that for gauging the omni-directional interest being flung at Gregnol and his crew, it was quite possible that even a woman of such precise and intricate preparation as Evanna hadn't fully appreciated the magnitude of the Butcher's appeal. At the very least, she lacked a little experience with being smack bang in the centre of the spotlight, having favoured a life that owed its definition to the shadows and vague edges where nobody really thought to look. She could not recall a time, certainly recently, where her presence had been the cause of such idle and superficial speculation, any more than she could recall a time where she'd so willingly allowed herself to be perceived as little more than a vacant placeholder, albeit an admired one. There was something to be said for the advantage it gifted her, since very few in the room were paying much thought to her skillset outside being able to move gracefully in the figure-hugging dress that stood out for its sheer simplicity and sophistication. Evanna wasn't convinced it was a decent trade-off for being reduced to mere eye candy but time would tell if the under-estimation of her capabilities would play to their favour.

Pale blue eyes toyed with her dance partner's beneath an immaculately curved eyebrow. Once again, she spoke as only he could translate.

"It's little wonder you have difficulty uncovering anything useful with this amount of eyes on you at all times. Have you tried," her lips twitched, "not being quite so impressive?"

“Why be anything other than impressive? If I was less impressive Cardassians would be swarming all over the universe.” He commented on simply. If he was anything less than impressive he wouldn’t be known as the butcher or Betazed or any of the other titles that people bestowed on him.

"Less ostentatious about it then," Evanna continued, casting a furtive look over his shoulder as they turned again to maintain step with the crowd of dancers. It wasn't an argument she felt particularly passionate about; his fame served its purpose every bit as much as her previous anonymity had afforded her certain gains. As much as the scrutiny was novel, there was a certain thrill that always came with having to navigate a new challenge. "What am I looking for in particular?"

“Anyone who is showing a great distaste for you or me.” He said quietly as he ducked his gaze from the Vulcan regent who was in mid conversation with Alexis of all people. He glanced back to his own companion and smiled. “Mostly me… you are unknown which is why I brought you. You attract the hangers on who are jealous.”

Any other woman, with differing intentions, might have taken offense to that 'why I brought you'. If she'd thought about it at all, which Evanna didn't, she'd have probably opined that such motivation was a good thing. If she was to be rendered a superficial ornament by most in the room, then at the very least there needed to be an advantageous point to it. "If that's the case," she replied quietly, sticking to the language that best disguised their conversation, "then there are at least four women and two men whose expression alone suggest they wouldn't mind plunging several daggers into my back." Her eyes sparkled with amusement. "And several of the wait staff keep alternating positions in synchronised patterns. That may be just normal security," Belyaev admitted, "but they have all the exits covered."

The man listen to her carefully and did his own glance around before he made a subtle look at the Empress and noticed that even she was watching. What was wrong with people today that he was such an interest. “They will be security but I think they are more for her than us. People would be foolish to start something against the Empress here but you never know. It would be suicide with so many Offices loyal to her but some of the regents are getting above themselves demanding more control over the sectors that they are meant to be looking after.” He said grinning down at her as the words fell from his lips a lot easier than when he spoke standard.

His apparent joviality earned him a raised eyebrow, though the expression in Evanna's eyes might have been accused of erring on the side of warm humour. "Would you not consider it also foolish for them to start something with you in the midst of such a gathering? I see plenty of eyes on you but I'd be more wary about who seeks an audience in the shadows on your way back to quarters." Her blue eyes held his. "Our Andorian friend appears to be perfecting the art of making her enemies spontaneously combust. She hasn't stopped glaring at me."

“Our way back.” He said grinning more at her before glancing at the woman who was glaring. “She had many years of experience attempting to spontaneously combust her enemies but has not managed it yet. She is very good at being regent why she has been there a decade but just smile at her.” He was determined that he would not be a prize for anyone going forward now what he knew was the truth about the Cardassian rebels and what they truly escaped with from Betazed.

His presumption, far less attractive on a lesser man, was anticipated enough that it only provoked a faint smirk. Whilst curiosity was a trait that could often lead to untimely distraction, Evanna was intrigued enough by Gregnol's motives to find the prospect of an ongoing liaison unobjectionable, at the very least. As likely as it was that he was simply using it as a stress-release, the fact that it also seemed parcelled with an increased willingness to draw her inside his strike force was a career elevation that warranted exploration. Aside from which, though she was far less susceptible to it than the woman staring daggers at her currently, he was an impressively complex prospect. Belyaev liked challenges, especially those with unexpected depths.

As they whirled around another full rotation of the dancefloor, Evanna dragged her eyes away from his to resume the surveillance he expected from her. "And here I thought you'd cautioned me not to provoke her."

“I cautioned you but I did not say I did not have to avoid provoking her. She will find it attractive and a game.” He said stopping his movements as the song ended from the grand orchestra dipping her backwards with a smug look.

From her lower vantage, Evanna maintained eye contact. It exacerbated the connection, the blatantly palpable chemistry that was perhaps the real reason a good portion of the room were doing their best to pretend they weren't staring. Gregnol was toying with his date but not for the usual reason of employing provocation to assert his ongoing authority. He was flirting, and the faint smile that kept tempting his dance partner's lips suggested that it was having the desired affect, or worse; that they were already at a point where this behaviour wasn't surprising to either of them. Evanna could feel the heat of the dozen redirected glares and almost managed to avoid looking smug herself. Gregnol's behaviour was undoubtedly going to result in increased scrutiny, a more permanent place front and centre to contrast her usual preferences, but Evanna found herself disinclined to turn down the challenge.

Her nose came within a whisker of his as he pulled her back up. Despite herself, Evanna smiled.

"You," she murmured, "are going to get me killed."

He kept her close and just stared at her. From the outside looking in, it was like he was looking into her soul but he was simply just looking at her and admiring her. “Worst ways to die.” He said pressing a kiss to her before he let her go and took a step back.

There was no verbal response from the blonde, only a certain angle that her head drifted to that indicated partial concession whilst, at the same time, offering just the hint of controlled reproval. It was playfully meant, as conveyed by the flash of mirth in her eyes, but Evanna slipped her arm through his to be lead from the dancefloor with a graceful yielding that warranted no further comment. Instead, pausing long enough to watch another couple glide past them, she dropped her voice to a low murmur and pointed out, "Do we know the gentlemen far right, blue robe, gold shoes?" She waited the necessary length of time for Gregnol to confirm the target without being obvious. "He's had an awful lot to say to his wrist for the past ten minutes and hasn't looked at you once." She shot a glance upwards to meet his. "His friend over by the buffet seems equally as determined to pretend you don't exist." The precision of her observations translated beautifully, their shared lexicon offering a framework for truly appreciating the way Belyaev's unique mind worked. Part of it was years of extensive training; the rest was pure personality, an ability to view the universe through the negative space.

The Captain glanced at the man in question in the blue robe and gold shoes and shook his head. He glanced at the friend by the buffet table and frowned. He had no idea who either of them were but she was right, they were ignoring him to the point of being obvious. “Well I guess I just make my presence known to him then.” He said taking it all as a challenge even as he watched Ford and Agrax in the corner in a heated discussion.

Whilst she wouldn't have put it past him to confront the lone figure hovering by the exit, Evanna steered their path towards the buffet, both as a means of providing a plausible reason for their redirection and prevent premeditated retreat, and because the co-conspirator was simply a less complicated target. Striking up conversation over food wouldn't arouse more attention than they were attracting already, and their intended target would wind up with his back towards a literal wall. It was a far easier position to gain the upperhand in should it be required.

Accepting a drink on Gregnol's behalf from a passing waiter, moreso because it was offered to her but Evanna so rarely indulged in any substance that affected her perception and wasn't about to start now, the lithe blonde slipped further into her current role as they approached the spread of food. Slipping her arm from his, she took up a plate and very carefully, with the deliberation of one who was not inclined to make any decision hastily, began to move around the table in a slow pattern that would eventually weave them to an intercept. "None of these," she passed over a plate, having slipped back into Standard in order to be intentionally overheard. "You'll be up all night complaining again."

Gregnol could not believe that the woman had gone with that of all things that she had at her disposal. He glanced down the table seeing her plan for them but it did not mean he liked people believing that he had a weak stomach. “I believe that was you complaining, detka.” He said with a hint of amusement as he chose a word that would inflict a reminder of their first encounter that had led to this whole turn of event.

The faintest twitch of Belyaev's lips was only apparent to any who were looking for it. In a universe full of blatant risks and palpable threat, she was a woman who showed her daring through the careful selection of a single word. A retaliatory tease died on her lips, however, as Evanna had also lived this long because she knew when to tuck herself back away to bide time. "Which you complained about," she murmured, offering him a morsel from her own fingertips as well as an interpretation of her original meaning that saw her take the brunt of the weakness.

The man narrowed his eyes before offering a smirk as he took the food. “No one wants to hear the complaining so we shall avoid it all. What about you? What is your favourite selection?” Gregnol demanded off the person that they had been observing.

Evanna watched the man's response closely, which was to say that she didn't lift her gaze from the buffet and seemed utterly engrossed in exploring the selection herself. The dichotomy of the two responses; Gregnol's direct stare coupled with her apparent intent to completely disregard her date's sudden acquaintance, created enough awkwardness that the man shifted weight from foot to foot far too obviously to be indicative of anything other than pure discomfort. He was not, she judged, very happy to have them at such close proximity. Gregnol in particular seemed to force his posture into a slight retreat.

"I hear the cheese is quite good," came the gruff response, reluctant and non-committal. The cheese was certainly not much of a response; there was an entire centre-board devoted to various vintages.

It was a weak reply, weak replies summed up the man and what he must be doing. House security was so lax he didn’t know it would be something he would be bringing it up with the Empress when he had a chance after he found out what was going on between the group. “You must have a better choice? Ask your friend what theirs is.” Gregnol said turning from the light conversation to the lion stalking a prey as he sized the man up.

"My friends also like the cheese." Slowly, the charade morphed to something less furtive and yet slight drop in pretence, which seemed to actually increase the man's quiet confidence, wasn't enough to pinpoint the pair's intent. Evanna noted the use of the plural on the term friends however and recognised it as a power play in itself, if only a very subtle one. She didn't interrupt, having slipped into Gregnol's preferred space for her beneath the radar, and instead focused on the cheeseboard to begin carving out small portions of the rounds in reach.

Gregnol chuckled at the confidence and gripped the cheese knife in his hand as he took a piece of the cheese that he cut and popped it in his mind. “Bring him over or you will be choking on the cheese on offer.” Gregnol said picking up up one of the wax rounds contemplating. “Garlic and chives would be a good option.” The knife in his hand would do minimal damages compared to him using the cheese to choke him.

"I believe he has other matters to attend to." Sure enough, the man's counterpart had left his post and a quick scan of the room gave no indication as to where he'd disappeared to. "I can contact him, sir, but he may not respond."

There was a stubbornness to the man's behaviour that struck Belyaev as brave, if not entirely foolish. It wasn't correct to say that he was entirely without trepidation, it was clear that Gregnol's insistence was intimidating on some level, but Evanna, despite taking great pains to keep up the appearance of being distracted by food, had seen enough of the expression in his eyes to find it familiar. Zealous conviction, the kind of rock-solid certainty in one's chosen path that forged an unshakable faith. This one, she was almost certain, had been trained to withstand torture. He certainly didn't seem to be fearing it nearly enough.

“If he is not here by the time I turn around you will die from attempting to breathe through cheese. We both know how serious I am and who I am. So choice is yours or you could tell me what you are up to and take him out of the equation.” He said in the same sickly sweet voice but there was a tone to it that spoke volumes of how serious he was.

A low murmur, in a language only one of the men could decipher, registered as a passing observation as Evanna picked over a fruit platter. "Three others stationed near the exits have also removed themselves." It was a statement that didn't ask for validation, a rock-solid certainty that spoke to the woman's impressive attention to detail leaving no room for argument on the matter. Belyaev's visual recall was uncanny and, in this instance, had clocked the movements of other patrons not dressed in such an obviously-connected fashion.

Despite the threat to his life, the cornered man lapsed into resolute silence.

Gregnol did a quick glance around and nodded at the woman in a thank you for that information. “Looks like your friends have left you here to fend for yourself but that really makes it more interesting. Are you the weak link or are you something more that they just do not care if you live or die.” Gregnol said darkly as he looked at the silent man. It was easy to see he was not swayed which was more the pity. It was easier when that happened, less messy and less awkward for people around who were not quite as accustomed to that level of violence despite where they were, some got through the cracks of the Imperial palace by simple skills in the bedroom.

A slow, knowing smile spread across the man's face. The next words he spoke were in a language the translator did not pick up but the cadence of the delivery didn't sound like a response, an incantation better suited for final prayers than exposition of intent. Evanna paused, her mind racing to connect dots at a speed that allowed her time to react. The cheese knife left her hand with practised aim, lodged itself between the knuckles on the back of the man's hand, and forced an involuntary release of the remote detonator he'd been clutching, concealed out of sight. The abrupt attack prompted immediate screams from those close enough to witness it, but the blonde took no time to explain, ducking to grab the device whilst Gregnol, who had better sense to read a situation than most of these pampered idiots, dealt with the cursing terrorist.

"Close proximity detonation sequence," she declared, running an analytical eye over the trigger. A similarly efficient gaze lifted to regard the subdued man, darting about his torso in search of visible proof of her suspicions as the palace's impressive security force descended on them. "Hold him," she cautioned Gregnol, for the moment not entertaining the irony of being the one issuing orders to him. Yanking aside golden robes, Belyaev documented the arsenal of explosives dangling from the man's concealed belt and addressed both her Commanding Officer and the arriving security personnel as she concluded, "Limited capacity, minimal fallout." Her cold, blue gaze lifted to meet the man's. "Single-target more than likely, with superficial collateral damage. There were others. This fool had the misfortune of targeting The Butcher, the others likely had other objectives."

“They betrayed you, my friend. They sent you to your death without honour or anything.” Gregnol said in a tone that even the security operatives flinched at. Saa in the chaos of the sudden screams had instantly fallen into bodyguard mode and was glued to the Empress’s side despite her wanting to get closer.

“Relieve him of his toys and take him to my personal punishment chamber.” Nalani said simply as she shared a look with Gregnol and then Evanna. Gregnol turned to the man and knocked him out cold to the floor before stepping over him to go after the other men.

A second glance passed between both women, a silent communication that dug beneath the flippancy of earlier introductions, and Belyaev inclined her head once before turning to follow.