Tch, tch.

With two short clicks of the tongue, Cybel's back straightened. She tensed as fingers pattered upon her shoulder, a touch before she even had the chance to compose herself and deftly turn to face the presence behind her. She was biting back the urge to jump away from the electric tingles left by those sharp nails, and had somehow stifled the urge to swiftly and ungracefully spin around when she had first heard the sound of that woman's distinctive calling card, as she felt the refinement and notion of purpose that dotted the eyes gazing upon her back right now. This place was a place where she always wore a mask, but she could afford to be nothing less than the most quiet and orderly of girls, fulfilled by and molded completely to her station, when she was pictured in the gaze of chairwoman of Crescent Armory, Office Floor 121, and her direct superior, Eileena Angseth.

Feet clicking together as she turned and stood idly at attention, Cybel asked, "Good evening. What is it, chairwoman?" She tried to turn upwards to politely face the much taller woman before her head was rocked down by a feeling of pressure upon her neck. Drifting across her chest, Eileena's hands helped themselves to wringing the looseness out of Cybel's tie. Though the clock already measured the end of the workday, and behind Cybel there was the sound of lighter and friendlier chatting of her peers beginning to unwind, any release that Cybel might have started to feel was snuffed away by the way that Eileena moved out of habit to correct this irregularity that had appeared in the halls of her palace. Cybel began to stutter, "Ch— chairwoman…", but she was promptly cut off as her superior lowered her head to meet her eyes.

"Cybel, while it often takes some time for recent graduates to acclimate to corporate life and you've only been here for a month thus far, I understand that you haven't visited an izakaya with your peerage at Crescent thus far. Is that correct?" Eileena asked. 

"Yes, chairwoman." Cybel swiftly replied, practicing in her voice. In her head, she was wondering what she had done wrong.

Eileena pursed her lips. "That's most unfortunate... While what I'm about to say next may be considered uncouth given the intrusion into your private life, I want to do well by my juniors." Eileena brought her hand up again to Cybel's shoulder, the side of it, where she again let her nails bite into fabric. The discomfort that arose in Cybel made it easy for the woman to utilise her instinctual reaction to being touched and guide her away from the elevator corridor and back towards the alcove where the service closets lay. As they gained a modicum more privacy from the efflux of recent clock-outs, she started again, "Fostering positive relations with your peers is an essential part of advancing your career in Crescent Armory, and the izakaya is fantastic way to do so, though I suspect you never even considered that. After all, I don't think you avoid drinking out of a past problem not because you're young, but because it's more likely to me you haven't touched a bottle in your life. I think I'm correct, aren't I?" Eileena barely paused to glimpse Cybel's reaction, and the new hire feared she did little to hide it. "You went to the Yigansan Special Academy. I don't think you had the chance or really, the want, to foster that kind of rebelliousness within their program."

` "What? How… did you?" Cybel stammered. Where the chairwoman had obtained such records, which should have been sealed after her onboarding, was racing through her mind as a flood of nervous thoughts about what else Eileena might know began to overcome her. Then, the feeling of Eileena's finger upon her lips, shushing her, brought her back to the present.

"You still use their bookbag, the one from their store." As that came from Eileena's lips, Cybel suddenly felt like she was a massive idiot. "I am a mother after all, my daughter is actually almost your age, and I took the time to consider the proper education for her. The level of occupational therapy you received though is not necessary for her, but I toured the premises regardless. But, Cybel, I digress. You aren't under their care anymore either, so it's important that you consider how, on your own, you might learn how to enmesh with our culture."

Cybel tried to speak, but words ran away from her mind. Everything in her head was racing a bit too fast for her to hold onto it, as she was still reeling from feeling so completely exposed and unmasked. While the level of developmental assistance she needed was tolerated by Crescent's fair hiring process, that hardly meant that such history was accepted and praiseworthy when it came time for higher-ups to consider advancement or rewarding ambition if it became common knowledge. Her eyes snapped away from Eileena's—while eye contact was something Cybel could stomach easily, the deep purple of Eileena's irises added a new and unforeseen discomfort to the act. While the germ-line modification behind the color was in theory a meaningless artifact of lost technologies left in the Cennoran gene pool, in Eileena it seemed her gaze was steeped in her deep blue blood. Everything to her demeanor said Eileena had been cultured in the world of wealth and excellence, so much that on the floor she was practically its avatar. She could never do something unbefitting of her station, for anything she did wrote the rules of proper conduct that bound them together in their pencil skirts and heels. And right now, Eileena had seen through her completely, seen that Cybel was struggling doubly with playing pretend, playing pretend in being an unassuming and normal person, and playing pretend in the strange pretend game these normal people had built for themselves to play. This was the longest conversation the two had shared, and it had gone as disastrously as Cybel had predicted. Her shoulders slumped in, her back pressed into the wall, and then Cybel's head was lifted, lifted by the same jumpy reaction against being touched as Eileena's finger worked its way under her chin and avoided forcing Cybel's droopy head up. 

"I'm not here to punish you Cybel, don't shut down on me please. I want to help you, trust me," she said.

"How?" Cybel croaked out, unsure of how this figure picking her apart, as if under a microscope, could in any way do that.

"I care about my juniors, I want them to find their proper reward for their hard work. It would be no use seeing someone like you burn out," Eileena said.

'and bring down my retention ratings.' Cybel silently added in her head.

Eileena continued, a little more sternly, "What will happen, I wonder, after three, six months, or a year here when you haven't learned to fit in? Will you be able to continue on? You're probably worried just about squandering your talents and opportunities, and not even if this is something you can keep up with, right Cybel?" The girl couldn't help but nod at what she was hearing, not wanting to foster any more displeasure.

Her shoulders slacked.

"Aww, good girl," Eileena said, relaxing herself and giving Cybel some breathing room, "I think if you were able to become comfortable with me, with places rough and noisy, with…" She sucked in air through her teeth. "Letting the bottle pry you open a little, let more of yourself flow out… Relying on me, and your peers, I think you'll be in a much more stable position mentally coming to these offices and spending time with your peers off-work. I have an idea, and I'd like you to humor me." She beckoned, gesturing back towards the elevator hall where a group of the usual fawners waited for her, chatting about plans for tonight. She walked their way, Cybel following behind, before making an announcement. 

"My apologies, I want to discuss private project details with Cybel, so I'll be remaining here late. Please go on and enjoy your night without me." The crowd sighed in disappointment, but quickly shuffled out as the bell sounded for the elevator's arrival. Then, there were two in the plaza.

—

Once they had made it back to Eileena's office, she flashed a coy smile, fingered for a button under the desk and one of the drawers slid out with a click. She reached in, fishing around before pulling out a frosty blue bottle of something called rice wine. She popped the cork, and then tilted her head as she asked Cybel, "Would you mind getting those plates behind you for me."

Cybil turned, and indeed there were silver plates amongst crystal glasses and gilded cutlery in her cabinet. Finding herself confused, she asked for confirmation, but Eileena still urged her to go and grab one for the both of them.

"Now, now," and with that, she deftly poured the clear contents of the bottle until a shimmering film ran between the edges of each plate's lip. She lifted hers gently, suspended on the tips of her fingers as she brought it up to her mouth. "For the sake of teaching you the right way to partake, courage and not trepidation your guide, we're going to take these together. I recommend that you don't try to stop halfway and put your plate down, lest you waste what is backed in its quality by its price. I assure you, I believe you'll find it goes down smoother than you think." Cybel eyed her plate, slowly raising it to the edges of her lips steady with hands steadied from the nervousness of this highly unusual situation.  "I'd toast," Eileena said, "To your first drink, but alas, maybe all we can do is count down to it. On three now. Don't make me the only one jumping, please." 

When the count ran down, Cybel closed her eyes and, in spite of the tightness in her chest, tilted her head back. Eileena did have a compassionate reason for all of this. It had smelled of disinfectant, and the taste had a similar prickly chemical quality. But then, as it soaked into her tongue, there was fruit, a rosacean taste. It ran down her throat, lighter than water and seemingly dry, but it carried with it warmth and the tension in her chest dissolved as if melted and washed away in the solvent. Even the vapor that had made it to her nose carried those faint but deep notes of an apple quality, like the last drops of a thick cider. And then, it was over, and Cybel brought the plate down, her sight falling over a relaxed and pleased looking Eileena, before she began to sputter from the astringent dryness that coated her throat.

Eileena stood and walked behind Cybel, patting her back with her palm as the tingling subsided. "You did very well, I earnestly didn't expect you to drink it down, but I'm glad you made the extra effort." The warmth in Cybel's cheeks made those praises feel nice. Perhaps, she had been overthinking things before, at least in regards to the drink. Alcohol had a strange but pleasing taste, with a slight but not unwelcome bite. She still dreaded the idea of the noise and clutter of a bar, but that thought slipped away, easily, as words slow and silky ran over her ears and redirected her focus.

"How are you feeling, Cybel?"

She looked up and around, looking for something to say. "The lights are really pretty."

"Hmm?" 

Cybel stared up at the lantern which hung from the center of the ceiling of the office. "It's glowing, like there's a little pointed star inside." Little stripes of light did indeed unfurl from the bulb, along with a slightly iridescent halo at the edge of its primary glow. Already, something in the way the world looked had changed for Cybel, seeing the darks as a bit darker and the lights as, well, sparkling in a way. 

"I see, I wonder if there's a tiny astigmatism you get when you drink," Eileena mused. "Anything else?" Her hand slowly brushed at Cybel's shoulder, and for once the touch had no hint of discomfort. The impulses that would usually make her want to squirm away were dissolved in the river of her consciousness before they even surfaced in her mind. The whole of her mind had quelled, thoughts racing and discordant, and thoughts stagnant and marshy no longer pooled about it when all had been reduced to a smaller more even stream. And in that stream, Eileena's touches could create no turbulence. 

Eileena poured Cybel another plate, and lifted it up in her own hand, beckoning Cybel to drink. She did not even think to conjure a protest, instead she just remembered the sugar taste. Again, warmth hit her throat, and then, there was a pleasant tingling on her cheek as the hand that had been on her shoulder brushed gently at the side of her face. Where before, it was tolerated easily, now instead with the feeling of fresh heat filling her blush, it felt delightful. She heard a giggle, and then Eileena said, "If only you could see yourself right now, even the tip of your nose is pink." 

"Like the reindeer, chairwoman?" Cybel mumbled, confused.

"Please, it's Eileena. Do you think they're calling me chairwoman at the izakaya?" She replied. "Oh, of course, let me drink my next round before we forget." With that, she poured for herself and finished it off not a moment later. Cybel found some comfort in Eileena and her imbibing in the same amount, she didn't have to worry so much about overdoing it. And Eileena's hand felt nice as it kept brushing at her cheeks, the touch seemed to make every muscle in her body start feeling slack as well. She could probably sink right onto Eileena's desk, and the side of her that usually protests was unusually quiet about the idea. 

So she did. She heard the sound of someone across from her sitting back in her seat, as she propped herself up in her hands. Eileena was grinning so sweetly. "You're doing so well, baby," Eileena said, and Cybel just let the praise wash over her. She hadn't heard praise like this from Eileena since she joined the job, but maybe giving into herself and the whims that the fruity brew seemed to stop her from restraining really was what she had been lacking in chemistry. The alcohol at the very least made a convenient excuse for any unsuppressed quirks. She saw Eileena's hand reaching towards her hair, and she eagerly waited to receive it, but she could not stop her attention from drifting around, taking in what it could under different circumstances. She could let her scans of the room pass over her without feeling overwhelmed in the slightest, and while the office didn't hold too much of note on first inspection, besides the antiquated wired landline, at that moment she became newly aware of a picture frame tucked away at the edge of the desk. 

"Eileena," Cybel hummed, "Who's that?"

Eileena pulled it out, and Cybel found herself surprised at the resemblance it shared to her. The subject of the portrait had a different color in her hair, more of Eileena's black than Cybel's brown, but besides that the two of them had striking similarity. 

"Her?" Eileena chuckled, "She's my daughter."

"She looks like me," Cybel said, followed by a hiccup. 

"Maybe that's why I'm being so kind to you," Eileena whispered, coyly.

"Wait, really," Cybel said. That did explain why Eileena had been so nice, and as of recent, so touchy. She probably had just never imagined Eileena as the motherly sort, other than in the posturing corporate strongwoman way. Now, it all made sense. All she ended up murmuring back to her superior was, "That's really kind of you, that you see me like that."

Eileena looked the picture over one last time, and then folded it down. "Hey, we can't have this affecting my reputation. Can I get you another plate?" she said, but already she held the bottle half-tilted in her hand. Cybel watched her pour from above bereft of caution and all too playfully. She looked as if she was holding back a laugh about something, and that seemed so far from Eileena's typical character, but maybe it was the alcohol's effect on her. 

There was a question that burned at the back of Cybel's throat, more than the parching did. It compelled her, before Eileena could serve her again, to rise and make her way to the other side of the desk. Whatever qualities that made it seem ridiculous to her were overruled by the implicit knowledge that rejection would not sting, so she cleared her throat and asked, "Eileena, please continue to help me like this. I'm so glad you're someone I know I can trust, and you could be… someone familiar even in scary, crowded, noisy, rude places. It's not like you don't know my circumstances, and I really want my life to amount to something here. Can you be someone I could lean on?" She felt as though she stumbled over her own tongue trying to get the message out, but in Eileena it seemed as though she was struck, not in any discernably positive or negative way, by its earnesty. Her grip moved from hovering near the plate, and instead she wrapped her fingers in Cybel's whilst looking down in contemplation. She invited Cybel onto her lap, just as the lights in her vision began to stretch, but she could not hold the girl's gaze from there for very long.

"The look you give me…" She said, "It's all too familiar…"

She took hold of the plate and drank it down abruptly.

Cybel watched her smile return, in the midst of a blurrier world full of swaying and rocking colors. Since she had stood, it felt as though some of the laxity in her body had begun to travel up her neck and filled her head, and even as she sat now she felt as though she was a moment's slip from tumbling out of Eileena's arms. Her obvious lack of balance made Eileena paused, but did not change her regained cheery disposition. She just laughed and said, "Cybel, you look quite delicate there. How are you handling lap time, baby doll?"

Cybel put her hand on the desk, closing her eyes and steadying herself as she meagerly croaked out, "Everything's spinning." 

"Oh my," Eileena said, "I know that this is quite the sweet drink, but I didn't expect it to hit you so sharply." Her hand ran down Cybel's back, and that seemed to soothe her seeming seasickness enough for her to avoid nausea building, just as cool air began to flow from the vents. 

"That feels nice," Cybel whined, holding her eyes shut. "The cool air…"

"How odd," Eileena mused, handing Cybel a cup of water, "I find this drink highly tolerable. It's quick to circulate between the ears, bring you deep under its spell, before agitation anywhere else begins. I guess you are learning something unusual about your tolerances… Cybel, do you feel as though you would like to empty the contents of your stomach?"

"No, not yet," Cybel said, leaning into her.

"Good, now if you can walk, and don't worry," She locked her fingers with Cybel's limply grasping hand. "I will guide you, I'd like to take you outside. The cool air and being able to sweat off some of the liquor is sure to improve your disposition. And if not, I imagine we can do as the salarymen do and let you perform emesis behind a bush." 

The outdoors did sound quite appealing to Cybel at the moment, she nodded her head and let Eileena lead her through the office, through the hum of the elevator corridor and out onto the nightlife arcadia that surrounded the Crescent complex. For the first steps, Cybel felt so unsteady and slippery on her feet, but the more she leaned into Eileena's arm and let the firm words of her superior steady her steps the less she had to worry about straying in her wobbly state. She delighted in the salve of the quiet breeze, for the moments it lasted before the sounds of a crowd, and lights bright enough to shine through the lids of her eyes began to surround her. It was thankfully only faint and distant impressions compared to how these normally assailed her, but she was about to complain for the sake of her stomach before something different colored her sense of smell. 

It was the smell of grease, the charcoal of a grill and tender fresh meat. As her vision cleared, and hunger overtook her looking to quell the discontent in her stomach, Eileena handed her a skewer which she greedily gobbled down. As she ate, and as she drank of Eileena's water bottle which still tasted faintly of drink even if her superior swore it was more lingering in Cybel's mouth, it felt as though the abrupt slip into stupor from earlier eventually evened back out in a nice floaty sense of warmth. Some of her own excitement no doubt helped her to rise, as when she realized the occasion of the night was a festival she found herself full of exuberance, especially with reliable incorruptible Eileena to shadow her. Street games and food stalls lined a paper lantern-lit street, as up and down the colorfully decorated promenade families and groups of teenagers loitered about. It bubbled up in her head that Cybel was no longer a minor, and that might make somewhat inappropriate some of the juvenile-oriented activities her attention was immediately drawn towards, but even having a reason to approach them with Eileena holding her hand made her smile. Her superior urged her on, telling her "lead the way", as if she was treating her junior out in exchange for having endured the mild bout of sickness. It was working on Cybel, the incident of nausea was already almost completely forgotten in favor of spending the rest of their night together in the blissful now. 

As they walked though, Eileena suddenly tugged on her hand, squeezing it hard. Cybel's focus was drawn to a group of older boys, maybe college residents from the nearby dorms, directly ahead in their path. "This could be troublesome, tch tch…" Eileena muttered, a little worry twinging her voice. Seeing her without her steadfast resolve caught Cybel off guard, but she assumed it was an effect of their shared indulgence and vulnerability bringing them closer. "There's a good chance they might try to pick us up and they obviously have the numbers to be pushy. We draw attention, me with my eyes and you being obviously intoxicated," she continued.

"I can hold it together," Cybel said to Eileena, trying to put on a neutral tone.

"You are all too bubbly," Eileena replied, "I'm guessing that's how you really are when you aren't hiding yourself at work."

"Mmmm, maybe," Cybel remarked.

"Oh I know, I just had a great idea," Eileena cooed, "Why don't we pretend to be mother and daughter, you already said you look like my next-of-kin. They'd be real scoundrels to interrupt us then." 

Cybel wasn't sure it'd work, especially when they were still wearing their Crescent officewear, but it wasn't as though nepotism was especially frowned upon. Regardless, time was running out and she felt a little tickled to have Eileena receive one of her previous comments so positively. She cleared her throat and eagerly piped back, "Sure thing, mom!"

"Love you too, little angel," Eileena said with a giggle, patting Cybel's head.

Cybel was determined to try to sell the illusion for what it was worth, and so she pointed to an air rifle game, tugging at Eileena's sleeve. "I wanna play that, Mom. Can we? Can we?" She was sure her slightly slurred speech fed into an appearance of juvenile overexcitement. Eileena's smile only deepened, cheeks filling with more rosiness. Cybel had heard alcohol described as liquid courage, and it was living up to that in the lack of restraint towards farces like these that would have seen her hands lashed with rulers at an earlier time in her life. It was worth it to impress Eileena, and see that genuine joy grow that told her she had a chance of becoming like her superior, someone who could look out for and protect others even if it was in a rare and quite silly moment like this. 

As the fraternity group passed, they gleefully played a round of air rifles, punching holes through paper cups. Much to Cybel's chagrin, she found herself at a loss by its end. Then they moved on to fishing with magnets, and popping balloons with darts, all while Cybel lost in the joy of having an excuse for these experiences continued to reaccount phrases like, "Can you get that one for me, Mom?" and "Thank you Mom, you're the best!" All the while, Eileena returned her joyful exclamations in kind humming about her sweet little angel and precious baby joy. Cybel wondered but only scantly, and maybe not even enough to remember to ask her later, if Eileena missed her daughter at all. She just wondered why every time she opened her mouth it seemed blush filled Eileena's face. 

Then, they found themselves in front of a wack-a-mole booth, where a large purple-colored, razor-toothed and swirly-eyed teddy bear sat behind the counter. For its scary appearance, it seemed as though it had avoided being scooped up as a hotly contested prize, or it had simply not been won by the general audience of still physically-uncoordinated younglings. And for Cybel, it twinkled in her eye from the moment she came to captivate it, shining as what was meant to be the next addition to the plushie collection she was slowly and secretly building as much as it ashamed her. She pointed it out to Eileena, jumping as she said "That one! Let's work together and get that one mom, pretty please?", hoping that even under the influence both of them still could shore up the requisite coordination to win it. 

When the last hammer flew and a note of victory played, Cybel eagerly stretched out her arms until she had received her destined prize. So many delighted thoughts flew through her mind, so much she hoped about this about this wonderful outing and evening into her most crystal clear memories, and she overflowed with the desire to express her sincerest thanks to Eileena for making this possible, for giving her such a bright connection to make her working life so much more tolerable. She barely registered the sound of a cork being pressed back into a bottle, and it certainly did nothing to stop her from turning around to face her superior and her dear new friend.

“Thank you mom!”

Eileena's lips locked around Cybel's, drops of liquor spilling onto her collar from the little that did immediately find its way running down her throat. Hands forced her onto the hard metal of the console behind her, as Eileena's tongue continued to impress upon her mouth. Lost in confusion and stuck unable to cough, Cybel tried to push Eileena off her, struggling against her superior's weight until she finally found the purchase to free herself and slump to the ground sputtering from the burning sensation in her throat. 

"Fucking freaks!" She heard from somewhere above her, as Eileena quickly took hold her hand and drew her up. She wanted to stop her, but becoming aware of the astounded, sickened glares that surrounded her caused her body to freeze completely. Even through the fuzz, in the unreal festival air full of golden-haloed lights, her chest tightened and her heart quickened, for at least the few moments before Eileena broke into a run dragging Cybel with her. 

Between two stalls, and through an alley they ran, Cybel not even with the breath to ask Eileena what she had done or what was going on. Once they were onto a street, Eileena paused not a moment to hail a cab and instead ran the both of them up to the door as Cybel was shoved inside. The parching in her throat was abetted with the aid of a freshly-opened can of terrible, bitter beer being poured down her throat with her head forced back.

The moment she had her bearings, she tried to get something out to Eileena, a cry of 'Why?' or 'What?' but she was only meant with shushes and a caressing hand running over her face. Her hands dug into plush fur, holding onto her new teddy bear as if it was a life-preserver in her mottled, turbulent sea of awareness. Unable to concentrate on anything else but the few gentle touches that came her way, she ended up just murmuring 'that feels nice' throughout the ride, and as she found herself on an elevator in an unfamiliar apartment building, and as she wandered into an unfamiliar pink-paneled bedroom. 

Cybel was thrown down onto the bed, with Eileena immediately forcing herself on top of her. Over the sound of cars rolling by the highway outside, she faintly made out her superior's harsh, labored words.

"21 years. 21 years of raising a daughter—reading her bedtime stories, taking her to sports practice, cooking for her the best dinners you'd want for your growing girl, playing with her every day, making sure she learns a new lesson each day too. And she grows up looking exactly like your wife." Cybel felt Eileena groping at her chest, as a knee pushed its way between her legs. "And that'd be fine, even if that sow abandoned her because she wasn't up to raising the child of an old moneyed princess, of all things, hah. You don't blame the child, you're not a monster. But it doesn't help you see her face in every girl you sweet on, every girl that flops her hands around the same way the way she did, the way your daughter does…" Eileena huffed raggedly, desperately, as she fumbled with Cybel's belt buckle even as the tie balled up in her mouth and shoved down her throat made me gag. "And gosh, you get your daughter all the help she needs to grow up right, because you love her. And for that love, your daughter comes home for the holidays and you see her giving girls those eyes, those eyes you know so well…." She kissed Cybel, and then again, and again, frantic kisses all over her face not content to be satisfied with just one. "Because, because they're the exact same eyes you saw when you put the collar around HER neck. And you can't believe your daughter is making you feel like the ultimate cuck. Raising a girl just so she can whimper under another woman's boot, what a joke. What a joke!"

Later that night, Eileena curled up beside Cybil in that cotton candy bed, as she lay out like a light and snuggly wrapped in hand-me-down pajamas. "Good night, my little angel," Eileena whispered in her ear, as she stroked her hair. Eileena wondered how much of this night Cybil would remember besides knowing she must have gotten reason for a killer hangover at some point, and if she would laugh at the idea in the morning that the both of them in a complete drunken stupor had somehow ended up hooking up in her daughter's bed. There were more drinks and overturned cups laid out on the table outside just in case. "Good night, my sweet Gracie, my precious baby girl…" she whispered timidly in Cybil's ear, before she at last closed her eyes.