<> <> <> <> <> <> * Demetreia blinks at the people giving her strange eyes, then strides off through the mass of people, looking for anything interesting. No signs of possible triggers...continuing search. * Demetreia wanders about, occasionally stopping to peer deeply at one person or another, then abruptly shaking her head and moving on. <> <> * Demetreia shies away from the obvious Twenty-Fours, a look of faint disdain on her face, but moves closer to the tunnel, curious to explore this phenomenon. <> * Demetreia steps on the walkway. "Thank you, cousin." <> * Demetreia stays out of the way of the impatient fleshlings, although she doesn't hesitate to look closely at several of them now and then. <> * Demetreia widens her eyes just a bit, trying to take it all in. <> << ... are done in a very tasteful nano-built wrought iron finish, albiet stainless.>> * Demetreia blinks again and tilts her head from one side to the other, trying to recalibrate. <> * Demetreia feels her circuits react to the noise and the smells, triggering her "excitement" subprotocol, and rushes forward curiously. <> <> <> * Demetreia looks around everywhere as she wanders, paying more attention to her eyes than to her feet. <> <> <> * Demetreia shoves her way through people, occasionally hoisting herself up with the shoulders of some of the stronger-looking ones to see out over the crowd. <> * Demetreia tilts her head, still holding herself up, and runs the probability equations: Is this kid a dangerous presence Y/N? <> * Demetreia lets herself down and shrugs, walking over to the boy. <> <> "Ah, there you are. I've been waiting for you for a while. Took your time, didn't you? But then, that's to be expected." * Demetreia checks the surroundings for any possible surprises, then looks at the boy, wondering if he might be a Clue. "Greetings." * Demetreia straightens up a bit. "Waiting? You know me?" "Oh, yes." * Demetreia tilts her head and peers at him. "Scanning....subject does not match any identified files. I don't...remember...you." "No, you wouldn't remember me. And I can't talk long, sadly. So much work to do." <> "Here are new mission parameters. Follow the instructions on the card inside. And don't worry, you'll see me later." <> "A *new* mission? But I thought I hadn't--how do you--hey! Wait! Come back! Who are you? Who am I?!" * Demetreia clutches the card in one hand, running towards the boy. <> * Demetreia shoves through the crowd for several more minutes, casting about desperately, before giving up and wiping her eyes on her sleeve. "Dammit...and now my visual receptors are acting up again, too." * Demetreia finally remembers the envelope and looks at it for the first time, opening it and examining the contents. <> <> * Demetreia frowns, trying to deduce why mission parameters would be phrased in such a manner, and why the parameters themselves are so vague. ...of course! Infiltrators! That must be it... * Demetreia looks at the card again, looking for directions or other information or clues. <> * Demetreia notes the address and nods, putting the card in her small satchel. "Well, at least there is one thing I can do without further instructions." * Demetreia goes off to search for a mask. <> <>