<div class="floatright">(http://i77.photobucket.com/albums/j77/wulfjaeger/___protector_of_time____by_vincentxyooj-d5lw1gq_zps59496fa9.png)</div><br/>Allia was happy that she'd said what she needed to say, even if it hadn't created the result she had hoped for.  Damian and Kari were much smarter on the interworkings of the company that she was.  She'd always been a mech jock, nothing would change that no matter how much of a movement up the ranks she made in her time in the company.  She knew the company was in good hands even if she disagreed with some of the ways things were run.  She respected the fact that Kari took her input.  Allia had never been much of a leader or manager in any sense in the time since she left Nagelring, but now she was getting a pretty hard crash course in what it mean to be one of the key decision makers in a unit.  She realized she didn't really like it.<br/><br/>Her thoughts about the meeting and the status of the unit turned into a winding, unfocused walk around the dropship.  Usually in times like these she'd find herself wandering down to Gheistwulf.  There was something soothing and relaxing about her mech.  It was her silent friend, the one who always seemed to find a way to bring her home.  But this time she was surprise to find that she had ended up at the door to Damian's quarters.  It dawned on Allia that it had been over a month since their rendezvous in the ships gym.  She'd let the images of that afternoon filter into her thoughts over the past month, but she hadn't really thought much about the implications.<br/><br/>Uncertain as to why, Allia gave the door a quick rasp.  Consciously she hoped Damian hadn't come back to his quarters yet, unconsciously she needed to see him, if only for comfort.<br/><br/><hr/><br/><div class="floatleft">(http://www.brisbanetimes.com.au/ffximage/2009/03/02/yb0303filmbana.jpg)</div><br/>Desmond pushed the last of the battle armor power cells into the storage locker.  "Crap!  Looking at his watch he realized he was late for his meeting.  It'd been a few months since the last time they'd met.  The last time she had been headed out for some cake walk defense mission.  From the reports, that cake walk had turned into a massacre of the highest degree.  Falcons had stormed onto the planet with little regard for the defenses in place.  Only a handful of ships and crews had been able to escape the Falcons on the ground and the Battleships in orbit.  Desmond was glad she'd come back alive, even if the whole of her company had been shattered.<br/><br/>They'd only shared a couple of short messages since she returned.  Taking over the business of running the remnants of the company and trying to put things back in order had been her priority, no matter how much she wanted to see him.  He knew the loss of her father and all of her friends had to be hard on her, but he also knew she was strong willed and didn't give up easily.  The fact that she was scouring the warrior boards for capable pilots meant she was determined to bring the unit back up.  Desmond had suggested they work out a plan to merge the two units, but she'd been adamant about rebuilding, for her father.  Desmond couldn't argue with that.<br/><br/>The ride through the city to their local dive bar wasn't long.  Desmond parked his bike outside, hoping he'd beat her to the bar.  He sighed softly as he walked in and realized she hadn't arrived yet.  Stepping up the bar he ordered a local beer and took a seat.