Xen never stopped shamelessly observing the young woman's obvious discomfort, his head even tilting almost innocently even as his eyes narrowed when her hand slipped beneath his line of sight. Going for a gun? He knew he shouldn't feel the little tremor of nerves in the back of his throat; Gil had proven itself to be quite adept at disarming people quicker than they could think, and the android wasn't his only  measure. Still, there was something desperate and almost wild in her, despite all the restraint she revealed in the tight muscles of her neck and face. Finally, the wide blue eyes shot up to meet his amber ones, and for one second he couldn't have even begun to guess what was going through her mind- of course, after that second, the steely glare that appeared gave him more than enough. Well, he had probably lost the merchandise, at the very least. A little voice in the back of his head asked him why he insisted on antagonizing people, particularly when he<span style="font-style: italic">wanted</span>something from them, but he smothered it as he always did and watched as the pink-haired girl and her valuable cargo left his shop without a second glance.<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFBF00">"<span style="font-style: italic">Gāisǐ de</span>,"</span></span>Xen muttered darkly under his breath, scowling at her retreating back as it disappeared, the ancient swear falling from his lips with much less salesman-appeal than his previous words. His fingers laced behind his head and he sighed like a moody teenager, his slouch deepening. He may not have been<span style="font-style: italic">nice</span>, by any stretch of the imagination, but he also hadn't been<span style="font-style: italic">wrong</span>. Still, he should have simply continued his haggling process and given her a better offer. The back-of-head voice tried to revive as he rested his arms on the counter, but before he could doubt himself any more the robot spoke up.<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #40BFBF">"If I may make a suggestion?"</span></span><br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFBF00">"Mm?"</span></span>came the nonchalant response as he sunk his face into his folded arms.<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #40BFBF">"There was an appointment with one Lieutenant Chernov four days and sixteen hours ago in which he requested a very specific - "</span></span><br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFBF00">"The agent? D'you really think that someone like <span style="font-style: italic">that</span> can be trusted with the kind of gear she'd need just to get in the front door?"</span></span><br/><br/>The android cleared his optical lenses and shifted his weight, mimicking human responses to Xen's tone of voice.<span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #40BFBF">"She ultimately responded nonviolently to your threats and - "</span></span><br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFBF00">"They weren't - !"</span></span>a short pause,<span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFBF00">"Fine, they were kind of threats. But I wasn't going to make good on them or anything. And this was only after she knocked over a shelf and Hex'd the place, by the way, which kind of renders this conversation pointless. Just because she didn't try to shoot me doesn't mean she's a "cool, calm, collected" person."</span></span>Xen quoted the Lieutenant, his fingers dragging sarcastic marks through the air by his head.<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #40BFBF">"It means she is able to interpret stressful situations accurately, and respond in the most appropriate manner, given her circumstances."</span></span><br/><br/>Xen was quiet, fixing a quizzical expression complete with a quirked brow on the mechanical figure. It was not surprising that the android had done his own quiet analysis of the pink-haired thief (he did so on everyone who came within his perimeter automatically) nor was it strange that he had chosen to suggest a solution to a problem (the fence did have a deadline to meet with Chernov), but rarely did Gil's logic fail so spectacularly. Anyone could respond to a situation like the one in which he had put her, and they didn't have ragtag-assembled clothing and a child-like affinity for pressing the buttons on random machinery. Perhaps the HexTech had done worse to the android than Xen had assumed after his systems check.<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFBF00">"She's... inexperienced,"</span></span>he finally answered, stopping himself from saying "young"- he was hardly in a position to judge a person's abilities based on that, given his own level in the hierarchy -<span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFBF00">"She obviously takes stupid risks- the C34s, for one."</span></span><br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #40BFBF">"Her performance with Celi Mar was adequate. She identified the Voxel 9000 and the HexTech, which have been banned for 35.2 and 8.7 years, respectively. It is my o-o-opinion that her acquisition of the C34-9v core implants demonstrates an action-oriented attitude, and that her style of dress indicates a level of poverty."</span></span><br/><br/>Xen exhaled sharply, exasperation plain on his face.<span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFBF00">"So she's a scavenger. Big deal. And what does her economic status have to do with - "</span></span><br/><br/>He cut off sharply, his shoulders straightening even as the circuits finally connected in his mind.<span style="font-style: italic">Of course</span>. How could he have overlooked something so obvious? He was a little ashamed that his robot needed to point it out to him, honestly. The job from the Lieutenant wasn't exactly child's play- the person they needed to find needed quite a few qualifications, and one of the most important was an altered body. Not just any alterations, either. It was why Chernov had contacted him, rather than using the resources at his disposal through the Enforcement; his expertise and legendary network of contacts (Xen was pretty sure it deserved the "legendary" title at this point). He had been searching within the ranks of the Enforcement personnel and the ranks of the various crime syndicates, searching for well-known assassins, snipers, smugglers... he had even gone so far as to approach prisoners, ex-Enforcer types with more than a little grudge. His luck had been... well, less than fantastic. He'd been rebuffed everywhere, for every type of reason- the risk was too high, they were unwilling to receive alterations to their body, he'd been unable to pull enough strings to get their sentence suspended. Some of them were perfect, but they were well-known, useful, even famous (like Mar); if the worst came of them, he had no doubt it would be pinned on him, and his network might not have enough bulk to shield him from the shots of outrage. He'd put the few that made it past the first two qualifying rounds through a few tests of his own, nothing out of the ordinary for him- he shot at them, threatened them, tried to bribe them, seduce them, etc. If he hadn't been splitting hairs, some of them had only<span style="font-style: italic">barely</span>failed and could conceivably be suitable, but the Lieutenant had been specific in his requirements. Apparently, it was more than his personal preference. Or it wasn't. Xen actually wasn't sure of anything besides the amount the official was willing to put up for the procurement of such an individual, and the eventual prize that they would be charged to obtain. It was a sum that should interest someone so desperate for money, and the risks and other necessities involved... well, would a northern girl wearing patchwork really object to such things? Of course, should the worst truly happen, the risk to himself would be reduced to minimal- who would miss her? At least, who with enough clout to deal him a blow?<br/><br/>His eyes still glazed over with machinations, he muttered<span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFBF00">"Where is she?"</span></span><br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #40BFBF">"She was last visualized passing a shopfront security camera in the Eastern District,"</span></span>Gil's ocular lenses fogged for a fraction of a second,<span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #40BFBF">"I do not currently have a visual."</span></span><br/><br/>Xen couldn't supress a quick eye-roll. What were the odds that the girl had managed to land herself in one of the few places that didn't have a lens honed in on it at all times? The entire dome was basically<span style="font-style: italic">made</span>of lenses. One palm came up and rubbed his face, and remained there to muffle his words,<span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFBF00">"You're going to have to go get her."</span></span><br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #40BFBF">"Of course, Master."</span></span>The robot immediately spun on his heel and stepped toward the entrance to the dingy little shop, his long tendrils of hair swishing behind him like an ancient sheaf of wheat.<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFBF00">"Not like <span style="font-style: italic">that</span>, stargazer,"</span></span>the fence barked, managing to grab Gil's mechanical shoulder just before it got out of reach from behind the counter. The android didn't seem offended by the derogatory slang, and simply offered a pleasant smile and a properly expectant expression down to the dark-haired young man. Xen's mouth quirked as he released the machine's joint. Gil really<span style="font-style: italic">was</span>to feminine-looking sometimes.<span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFBF00">"Activate DT camouflage, first of all."</span></span><br/><br/>Gil's eyes hazed slightly, and an intricate network of lasers dotted immediately over the entrance to the shop, in a variety of colors and sizes. They blocked the entrance completely- not with anything harmful or even solid, but with an appearance that the entire place was dark and abandoned. Any curious passer-by who happened to glance this way (a rare thing) would see nothing more than an empty, closed and very dirty shop. Of course, if someone tripped and fell past the laser-illusion, his little scheme would be ruined instantly. It hadn't happened yet, though.<span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFBF00">"Right, now, get yourself dressed in... um... huh. Let's go with Identity 6."</span></span><br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #40BFBF">"Of course, Master."</span></span><br/><br/>Xen watched with a educated eye as the android shed his suit vest, un-tucked his white dress-shirt and unbuttoned the top four buttons. He rolled the long sleeves roughly back past his elbows, then retrieved an old-fashioned hat from one of the top shelves (it rather resembled an ancient grey trilby, though the front of the brim was longer) and expertly tucked the vast majority of his feathery hair into it. Most of the strands that framed his face remained, but with strange precision he plucked a few locks to tuck back- the result was a more masculine visage, provided little focus was given to his eyes. In fact, such a thing had been considered; a pair of UV-shielding eyeglasses, over-sized and tinted very dark, perched on the bridge of his straight nose. Despite his altered wardrobe, the android was still obviously identifiable for the robot he was; he observed just a little too blankly, moved just a little too subtly or precisely, stood just a little too straight and cold.<span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #40BFBF">"Importing Identity 6 now."</span></span><br/><br/>The change seemed drastic, but Xen always thought that. Gil's hip jutted slightly to the left, and his shoulders hooked forward just slightly. One hand perched leisurely on his hip and his pleasant expression disintegrated; in its place rose a bored, slightly impatient tilt to the mouth and brow.<span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #40BF40">"Import complete, boss."</span></span>Even the tone of his voice was different- of course, that was unsurprising. He had technology not dissimilar to the Voxel lodged where a human had a larynx, after all. This voice wasn't refined, lilting- it was relaxed, lazy, seemed made for sarcastic comments. The android even offered an in-character smile, flashing a shot of white teeth.<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFBF00">"Looks good. Was your vernacular database updated recently?"</span></span><br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #40BF40">"Yeah, everything looks fine."</span></span><br/><br/>Xen came around to the other side of the counter and fussed with the android's collar, making sure it was properly wrinkled and flopped, almost like a nervous parent getting ready to send their child to kindergarten for the first time. His expression was properly concerned as well, though his voice was calm.<span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #FFBF00">"Right then. Drop the DT camo. You are authorized to disclose all Phase A details of the Lieutenant's deal with her, if necessary, and to discuss anything that happened when she was in here a few minutes ago. Nothing else. You have a time limit with this, Gil, so get back quick."</span></span>The intricate and delicate programming and changes with his wiring that made this technology possible in the machine (it had been used in some of the newer models as well, but they had two Identities maximum and with far less detail) tended to drain his central power at an accelerated rate. So far, he had never fallen out while in the field, but it was a risk that Xen preferred not to take.<br/><br/>The android's cheesy grin widened and he gestured nonchalantly with his left hand.<span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #40BF40">"You got it, boss."</span></span>It was hard to see behind the sunglasses, but the fence was pretty sure the robot actually winked at him before he strode casually from<span style="font-style: italic">Discount Tech</span>.