Shadows of St. Clair 2.5

GM	[It hasn't been long at all since the new Thursday has been brought into Panthalassa, and though things have been kept more or less in order, there seem to be a couple things left to do. On a day without much happening, Thursday sets about trying to contact the boss, who hasn't been heard from since the bombing of the Triad bosses not two days before.]
Thursday	lounges around in a cheap flat, acting pretty casual for someone who is trying to contact The Boss.
Thursday	opts for the intelligent approach: just calling Sunday's cell number. No one ever said it wouldn't work.
GM	[Thursday gets a brief dialtone, as the phone is answered almost immediately. The voice on the other end is unmistakably Sunday, distinctive enough to be instantly recognizable despite the short reply.]
PresidentSunday	"Yes?"
Thursday	is still a little untrustworthy of the organization's cell phone, and opts to speak in a small amount of code.
Thursday	"How does your schedule look for Thursday? Are there any openings?"
PresidentSunday	"Thursday, hm? No need to worry, the line is secure."
Thursday	"Oh, well in that case, I'll just get to it."
Thursday	"I want a meeting. You, me, someplace comfortable. This is where you say no or ask me why."
Thursday	is taking an awful risk being direct, but so what? It's the best way to test the waters.
PresidentSunday	chuckles; the sound has a twist similar to that of her full-blown laugh.
PresidentSunday	"Now, what's so important you have to see me? You haven't made any large missteps so far, after all."
Thursday	humphs a little.
Thursday	"Haven't made any large steps at all. Shit, haven't made baby steps yet."
Thursday	"Look, I jus' wanna talk about all this secret underground whatever-it-is, and I hate doin' this kind of crap over the phone."
Thursday	"Need a face to look at. Makes it more real."
PresidentSunday	"Looking for guidance, hm...?"
PresidentSunday	pauses briefly.
Thursday	"Yeah, something like that. I ain't here to waste your time, so... yeah, or nah?"
PresidentSunday	"You know the floating restaurant with the two golden dragons with blue light eyes on each side of the door? There. 1400. Table 26."
Thursday	checks the clock on the wall. 1230.
Thursday	"Kay."
Thursday	snaps the phone shut; Sunday is a busy woman, after all.
Thursday	"At least this way if she's gonna kill me it won't take all day."
Thursday	grabs a semi-nice looking shirt off the floor and shakes it out. It doesn't match Terry's current pair of pants, but who cares?
Thursday	then heads out the door for the parking garage. Man, in this part of town they really kill you with those overnight fees.
GM	[Roughly an hour and a half later, a ferry drops Thursday off at the doorstep of the assigned restaurant, the dragons looking on with a gaze of bright, electric blue.]
Thursday	looks up at the dragons, and would feel a lot more intimidated if the eyes were actual gems and not some sort of LCD or hologram or whatever they use these days.
GM	[An automated receptionist notices the new arrivals but singles out Thursday, asking if this particular arrival has a reservation.]
Thursday	shrugs and goes up to the receptionist, clearly saying "Table 26, 1400." Terry almost wants to see how good the receptionist's parsing algorithms are, but now's not the time for that.
GM	[Rather than summoning help, as it usually would, the machine whirs for a bit. Thursday receives a text message which, upon opening, shows itself to be simple and clear directions to the table. It's on the balcony overhead, turned towards the cityscape.]
Thursday	heads right over and plops down. Sunday is already at the table.
Thursday	"Ey."
PresidentSunday	is looking outward and a little upwards as Thursday approaches; she seems a little less imposing once Thursday passes front until her eyes quickly fix themselves on Thursday. She smiles, and tips her cap in acknowledgement.
Thursday	is a little taken aback by how cool Sunday is, but tries not to get all ruffled.
Thursday	"So, like... I know you don't really care that I don't act all properlike in front of you or you'd'a tossed me out day one, so I'm, like, just gonna start going."
Thursday	slouches back in the chair and gets somewhat comfortable.
Thursday	"What the hell am I doing here?"
Thursday	posits the initial question, but quickly adds to it.
Thursday	"I mean, I know what I'm doing here, I'm asking you what YOU think I'm supposed to be doing here."
Thursday	"Cause, like... I been here half a week, week, whatever, I ain't done shit and don't know shit neither."
PresidentSunday	"I won't be able to help you much if you don't tell me what kind of conversation it is we're having. You want a job description or a manifesto?"
Thursday	blows back the mop of black hair away and shrugs.
Thursday	"Job description ain't worth shit underground; job changes every day. An' jus' the fact that you gotta call it a 'manifesto' means if I ask for it you just start preaching, an' I hate preaching most days."
Thursday	"But, hey, you wanna preach, preach. You're the big boss-lady."
PresidentSunday	"And what good would that do? You're already in the fold, aren't you? What you came to ask is what that means, exactly."
Thursday	shrugs again and looks distractedly out across the balcony.
Thursday	"...How'd I even GET into the fold, anyways?"
Thursday	looks back at Sunday with one dull eye.
PresidentSunday	"What, you think it was coincidence?"
PresidentSunday	smiles, a sly look on her face.
Thursday	pauses a bit, not exactly expecting the possibility that it WASN'T coincidence.
Thursday	"I... Well, I think you didn't ask a whole lotta questions in the interview."
Thursday	"Also think my resume's shit in this line of work."
PresidentSunday	"It takes a little more information than that to make a decision, after all."
Thursday	deadpans at Sunday.
PresidentSunday	"But now that you're here, you should know exactly what you're doing. Panthalassa commands a certain... group of people in the continent. You have your own group to take care of, but I can also hand an assignment over to you completely.
PresidentSunday	"Say... there's something that needs to be blown up, or someone that needs to be taken out. I can plan it myself and have you help me carry it out, or I could give you the job and have you take care of all of it yourself if I'm busy or something I can delegate to you as a Day."
PresidentSunday	gently drums her fingers on the desk before picking up utensils with one hand and eating one of several dumplings that have been sitting in a lidded case up until now.
Thursday	"Well, yeah, I mean I got that much already; we already did that. That's just the details n' junk, I mean who cares at that point."
Thursday	"But ya still didn't answer my question."
Thursday	points inward.
Thursday	"Why me?"
PresidentSunday	chuckles again.
Thursday	deadpans again.
PresidentSunday	"I can't give you a straightforward answer just yet. I know you don't trust me, but once... certain events have run their course, I'll tell you in all the detail you want, I can assure you."
PresidentSunday	eats another dumpling.
Thursday	sighs.
PresidentSunday	"But I will tell you that there's more to it than meets the eye. There is a reason you're here now, and your erstwhile rivals' loss to you was no coincidence. Food for thought."
Thursday	"You know, I knew it. Knew you weren't going to tell me, yeah. Of course you wouldn't. Worth a shot, though."
Thursday	is getting hungry and picks up one of the dumplings with a gloved hand. Has a little trouble getting a good hold of it at first.
Thursday	"That guy was a total dick, though. ANY win over him from ANYbody ain't no coincidence."
Thursday	"I didn't say a damn thing and they voted me over him. I mean, how does he even HAPPEN?"
Thursday	"Which reminds me, oh yeah..."
Thursday	actually sits up straight in the chair for once.
Thursday	"So I remember, like, Dick was all waxin' poetic about art and explosions and I don't even know what he was trying to say, its all political shit anyways."
Thursday	points a dumpling at Sunday.
Thursday	"Please tell me you don't believe in that crap."
PresidentSunday	"This, I think I can tell you. Not quite, no."
Thursday	eats dumpling.
Thursday	"Goouwd."
Thursday	"...What ARE we supposed to be protesting anyways?"
Thursday	"Or is that still, like, 'not allowed' or whatever?"
Thursday	does the air quotes.
PresidentSunday	"Society's changing, Thursday, and before we know it the world itself as we've understood it will disappear. Many just don't... really notice."
Thursday	processes the statement, trying to understand the hidden meanings and for the most part coming up short, though not completely blank.
Thursday	"...Or don't care."
Thursday	"S'not like anyone really cares about old society anymore anyways... Change and future, future and change, on and on and on..."
PresidentSunday	smiles, but only for an instant.
Thursday	scoots the chair back and stands up.
Thursday	"Glad we talked. You have a good day now."
PresidentSunday	gives her usual smile.
PresidentSunday	"Always do."