Meabh's Quarters

A simplistic space that has only two rooms, the open layout broken up only by the sections of workbenches and small sofa scattered around the area. A bed rests on the far wall next to the bathroom door, a nightstand next to it with a old purple lamp that seems completely out of place.

Unlocking the door, she slumps back into her room, leaving it open for Father Miles to enter as well; it wouldn't be the first time he'd been in this space, and it most likely wouldn't be the last. Setting her harnesses and weapons on a table next to the door, she walks over to her sofa and sits heavily on its worn cushions. Taking a moment to gather her thoughts, she waits until her partner had fully entered the room before speaking up.

"Why do you work with me?"

She runs a hand through her mop of red hair.

"Very few would."

The sniper frowns.

"Is it just because we work so well together?"

She had no idea where this line of thinking came from, although it had been on her mind for some time now. Was it just the mechanics that made them work so well together? That their combat statistics were higher than almost any other team's in XIII? Or could it possibly be that maybe, just maybe there was something else? Maybe he had grown as attached to her as she had him; she knows he is human, and she owes him her life many times over. She hopes beyond hope that he knows she will always try to be by his side should anything come their way.

Miles took in the surroundings as he entered the room behind the redhead, finding them an oddly fitting living space as the door closed behind him. Never being one to sit, he found a place infront of her to stand and listen. Truthfully, he had never really thought about any of the questions she had just asked him and he wasn't quiet sure how to respond to them. Their partnership was extremely successful in the field, that was true, but the reason he worked with her wasn't just for that fact, he had come to enjoy her company for a variety of other reasons.

He was well aware of the feelings some Iscariot held toward her, but she wasn't alone in that regard. Just as people thought her unworthy of being in Iscariot, people thought of him as nothing more than a machine. Granted, this outlook carried some weight to it, but the fact that Meabh never once referred to him in such a way made him view her above many others. She was kind and reliable, and she had saved his life many times. In fact, it would be a lie to say he didn't care for her atleast in some way. Cocking his head slightly to the right with his face void of expression, Miles spoke in his monotone voice.

"Negative, our teamwork has nothing to do with it, and the opinions others have about working with you are irrelevant. The reason why I work with you is because you genuinely treat me as if I were a human despite the evidence against it. And while I still do not understand why you go to the lengths you do, I will repay the kindness that's shown to me the only way I know how."

She smiles tiredly at him, but her body is telling her to get up, so she shoves herself off the couch and makes her way to her discarded weaponry, pulling out both blades and her sidearm, carrying them over to her work bench.

"'Despite the evidence otherwise'."

The sniper grins and shakes her head, taking a seat on a stool before taking apart her handgun.

"What evidence? That you have machine parts? That other people consider you a machine simply because of your actions?" She makes a half-laugh and spreads out the SIG's parts. "You have saved me when it would be imprudent to do so. You talk to me as if I am not unworthy. You have done more for me than nearly anyone else in this place, and yet you consider yourself not human."

Her strange eyes cut over to him. "You are more human that most who walk these halls."

She grins and begins to clean the various components.

"And you know you'll never convince me otherwise."

Miles followed her with his eyes as she moved to the work bench. She was stubborn, in some cases even more so than him, and he knew it was pointless to try and convince her otherwise. Even less of him was human now after the recent repairs he'd underwent, replaced with more artificial substitutes to sustain him, yet she still held her views. She judged him on how he acted and not what he was made of, and while he could argue that all of his previous choices were entirely logical when compared to the situation they were in at the time they were made, he knew she still wouldn't change her mind. That's just how she was.

He was made of metal, bolts and wires, he was a walking computer built for combat and nothing more, yet Meabh decided to see beyond all of that, and he was grateful for it despite not being able to show it. But, the fact remained that, unless Meabh's definition of human was something different that what he had listed, he was anything but. 

"I've only ever done what was required of me, and I will continue to do so."

She runs a rag over the barrel and smiles at his words. The man was just as impossible as she was, a trait she doesn't think looks bad on him at all. That stubbornness was a part of his human side; a machine could refute something by logic and probability, but he seemed to respond to her claims that he was human with remarks that didn't seem to come from a computer. They came from a man unwilling to see what he was.

"Required of you? By that logic, most every operative here is a machine."

She begins rebuilding the handgun.

"I suppose I will never convince you, but I'm just as stubborn, Michel. Don't think I'm just going to concede."

Everyone in Iscariot technically was a machine by that logic, they just followed a different programming; barring very few within the organization. They were guided by faith, something he tried to refrain from. Blame the computer inside his head for this way of thinking, most others would, but he preferred looking at things from a reasonable standpoint, with information and evidence to secure his position on a topic, unlike faith. But he supposed he was like them in a certain sense, following something without question; faith and programming had their similarities it seemed, though this wasn't surprising. Regardless, he wasn't going to bring it up. Instead, he would focus on the idea of Meabh conceding to something.

It was unrealistic.

"The thought of you conceding is illogical. I've seen how persistent you are first hand, numerous times, and despite all there is against your claim, it does hold..value. Conceding would be against your character."

She smiles at his response, turning in her seat to face him while setting the SIG on the table. She is about to open her mouth to debate a bit more when a page similar to both Sister Veronica's and Father Diem's pages comes fluttering into her room.

Hopping off the stool, she snatches it out of the air, skimming over the information it provided. Growing, she pulls out her mobile phone and dials a number she knows by heart.

When a man answers, she quickly, efficiently questions whether they are needed at this particular hunt. A voice is heard over the phone that even Miles could hear, and it crisply told her there were other's taking care of it.

She was to stay put for the time being.

Sighing to herself, she snaps the phone closed and stows it back in her pants pocket. Raking a hand through her hair, she looks to her partner and half-smiles.

"Well, for once they don't need us. I suppose we should be thankful."

The way she said it made it apparent she was anything but thankful at this news. She needed to get out of this place, to shake free of the lethargy and excitement at war within her.


((OOC: Sorry for the bad post. Made it from my phone.))

The appearance of a letter floating in caught the cyborgs attention/ A good majority of their members could use the scripture for a variety of things,  but this was the first time he'd ever seen them uses to carry a message. He would have thought such methods of communication were obsolete given the fact that every Iscariot had cellphones, but apparently not.

Waiting for the sniper to finish her phone call, Miles did his own search through Iscariots database to see just what was going on. The newest addition was something that should easily be dealt with in time. A vampire in Rome was a rare sight, but it was also suicide. There was a high probability that several Iscariot agents would turn it to ash within the hour, so it wasn't a surprise that they weren't needed.

"Even if we were I wouldn't support it. It's still too early for you to go into the field. You have yet to adapt to the changes the operation has made."

She couldn't sit still. This new body of hers was telling her to move, to do something, anything. Taking in what her partner said, she is quiet for a moment before making up her mind.

"Let's go to the training center. Like you said, I need to adapt to this. And the sooner the better."

She gives him the quirk of a smile before heading out the door, her mind bent on taming this new form of hers; she wasn't going to stand for being benched for long.


------------> Training Room

Miles follows.

------> Training room.