Egg-citing! (Open)

[atsuro]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #0F0F0F; height: 500px; width: 400px; -webkit-border-radius: 4em; -moz-border-radius: 4em ; border-radius: 4em; box-shadow: #1C1B1C 0px 0px 7px;] [style=background: url(http://i56.tinypic.com/2jer1b5.jpg); height: 250px; width: 390px; -webkit-border-radius: 4em 4em 0em 0em; -moz-border-radius: 4em 4em 0em 0em; border-radius: 4em 4em 0em 0em; border: #242323 6px solid; padding-top: 25; padding-left: 25; padding-left: 25; padding-bottom: 25; opacity: 0.8;] [/style] [style=width: 420px; margin-top: -10px; padding-top: -2px; font-size: 25px; font-family: georgia; font-style: italic; color: #5E5E5E; text-align: center; text-shadow: #000000 1px 1px 2px; letter-spacing: -2;]I'm not afraid to take a stand,[/style] [style=width: 420px; padding-top: -2px; margin-top: -10px; font-size: 15px; font-family: georgia; font-style: italic; color: violet; text-align: center; text-shadow: #000000 5px 4px 2px; letter-spacing: 4px;]WE'LL WALK THIS ROAD TOGETHER[/style] [style=width: 420px; height: 250px; padding-top: -1px; font-size: 10px; font-family: verdana; color: #474747; text-align: justify; overflow: auto; padding: 5px;] He often came to this place, though usually with a different reason in mind. The old but refined building called to his finer tastes, and he had been here more than once to see films on the large screen inside. Now, however, he found himself here simply to enjoy the pleasant weather and wait. He hadn't had a chance, yet, to go out and hunt for pokemon. So when someone offered him eggs at a sale price, he'd chosen two. One, more pricey, had been said to contain a heracross with a chance at being purple. The other was a gastly. Now, he didn't have any goals or requirements on what he planned to capture. Not really...well, perhaps one. He was very, very fond of the color purple. So, when he'd decided to choose pokemon that would end up, in their final stage of evolution, purple. It was kind of silly, he knew. He didn't care, because he also thought it was absolutely awesome. He'd never seen anyone color theme their pokemon before. But there were a ton of good purple ones. Now he had his heart set on the idea, he'd even complied a list. A heracross that was purple was first and foremost. It would also be the hardest to get. He knew he might very well have to go back to the breeder and try for another. The chances were fifty fifty, and he didn't mind trying his luck at it. He only hoped it didn't cost him an arm and a leg. But 'c'est la vie'. The gastly, at least, he could be assured would be a purple gengar one day. Gengar were his favorite pokemon so far as the ghost type went, though Mismagius was a good second. But the list stood as it was: purple heracross, gengar, liepard, skuntank, nidoking and gliscor. A nice mix, to be sure. Gastly, at least, would stay with him when it hatched. The heracross...well, if it was blue, he could sell it and buy another egg to try again for purple. He hoped there were those who wanted heracross...probably. He was just being particular. Heracross was heracross, after all. He just happened to want a purple one. He sat on the steps of the old building, holding two eggs. They always told you when they were expected to hatch. Apparently, they were pretty bang on. Both were supposed to hatch today, so he was feeling kind of fortunate. It was a rather lonely business though, this waiting. There weren't many people coming this way at this time of the day, even if this was one of the places he thought was nicest visually. Aether park was another good one, but there were usually a whole lot of people there, and he didn't want to startle the pokemon who hatched too badly. On a day lke today, when the sun shone down warm and bright, the park would be quite occupied. [/style] [style=width: 420px; padding-top: -2px; font-size: 10px; font-family: verdana; color: #474747; text-align: justify; text-shadow: #000000 1px 1px 2px; background-color: #171617; padding: 2px;]tags; Open words; 495[/style] [style=width: 420px; padding-top: -2px; font-size: 15px; font-family: georgia; font-style: italic; color: #5E5E5E; text-align: left; text-shadow: #000000 1px 1px 2px; letter-spacing: 2;] [/style] [style=font-family: courier new; font-size: 9px; color: #222222; line-height: 100%; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase;]table by Keikei @ BTN[/style]

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[ress6]

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Penthus was never quite annoyed, but he was easily bothered. He never got all hissy the way some people did, but when things bothered him, they just sat there and stewed. They were like itches - no matter how hard he thought about them, they wouldn't go away. The only cure was to dump cold water on it, and avoid the whole issue entirely. Dealing with the problem was always Penthus's first choice. That wasn't to say he was a fool, eager to rush in. He liked to know everything about a situation before he waded in. He wanted to know each and every detail. There was a late report from one of his informants, and he hated that - but he didn't just go storming off to demand his information. No, far from it. Instead, he pulled out a case file, flipped through it, and refreshed himself. Atsuro Sohma. Seventeen, crobat, standard informer. In the margins of Penthus's notes was a little scribbled note from ages ago - a personal tip from when he'd gotten the case file. 'Talks to himself', it read, and Penthus let out a tiny sigh as he noted it. Fantastic. Another crazy one, perhaps. He hated those ones. They were so difficult to get information from, and even when he got it, it wasn't reliable. You couldn't count on what lunatics said. You had to go and double check everything, which was always a huge pain in the ass. He knew enough, though, when one of his many tipsters informed him that a boy matching that description was over by the Orpheum. Why the Orpheum, of all places? It was a silly and strange place to go, and was enough to make Penthus frown. It wasn't as if there would be an issue with him talking to Atsuro in public - the man was largely unknown, and relatively young. Dressing himself in a coat that wasn't too fancy, and wrapping a green scarf around his neck, he collected his pokeballs and headed into the streets. It wasn't hard to get to the Orpheum from his office, and when he did, he wasn't disappointed - there was his missing spy. Approaching the younger boy, Penthus frowned a tiny bit. "Your report was due on my desk three hours ago, Sohma." Sure, most bosses wouldn't care that it was only a few hours late, but Penthus was a stickler for punctuality.

[atsuro]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #0F0F0F; height: 500px; width: 400px; -webkit-border-radius: 4em; -moz-border-radius: 4em ; border-radius: 4em; box-shadow: #1C1B1C 0px 0px 7px;] [style=background: url(http://i56.tinypic.com/2jer1b5.jpg); height: 250px; width: 390px; -webkit-border-radius: 4em 4em 0em 0em; -moz-border-radius: 4em 4em 0em 0em; border-radius: 4em 4em 0em 0em; border: #242323 6px solid; padding-top: 25; padding-left: 25; padding-left: 25; padding-bottom: 25; opacity: 0.8;] [/style] [style=width: 420px; margin-top: -10px; padding-top: -2px; font-size: 25px; font-family: georgia; font-style: italic; color: #5E5E5E; text-align: center; text-shadow: #000000 1px 1px 2px; letter-spacing: -2;]I'm not afraid to take a stand,[/style] [style=width: 420px; padding-top: -2px; margin-top: -10px; font-size: 15px; font-family: georgia; font-style: italic; color: violet; text-align: center; text-shadow: #000000 5px 4px 2px; letter-spacing: 4px;]WE'LL WALK THIS ROAD TOGETHER[/style] [style=width: 420px; height: 250px; padding-top: -1px; font-size: 10px; font-family: verdana; color: #474747; text-align: justify; overflow: auto; padding: 5px;] It was entirely peaceful sitting there. No one was going in and out of the theater due to the time of day. There was the birds, his eggs, and himself. He was at peace in truth for once. Then, that peace was shattered, falling to pieces all about him like so many shattered mirrors. And what worse luck could there be, than the man walking towards him. Of all the rotten luck... Technically, Penthus Thatcher was his superior in Epispect. He was the one Atsuro reported to, insomuch as he did report to anyone there. Usually, he dropped off the paperwork and left. He was completely thorough, and almost always it was there before it was even due. Hence his irritation at seeing this particular individual on what was supposed to be a day to himself. Only he'd forgotten the owed report. For once. Why was it the man could never cut anyone any slack? It was like he had a stick shoved up his...well, never mind. He was here, demanding the report, in person. As much as it rankled, he would have to deal with it, and hope either Penthus would actually understand just this once, or maybe just take the finished paperwork and go away. Still, maybe Penthus had a reason for being such a stick-in-the-mud? Maybe it was his thing, and he had nothing better to do. Did the man have any friends? He took his job way too seriously. Epispect probably had something to do with that. He tried to keep his feelings on the matter off his face. "You know I'm usually prompt, Thatcher. You shouldn't have troubled yourself with coming out here looking for me. I had other business to attend to..." he trailed off, jerking his head toward the two eggs in his lap. Was the man going to get anal about it, or perhaps he would pleasantly surprise? He already knew how uptight Penthus could be about matters relating to business. Yet there was no way in hell he was going to bring two eggs into the Epispect building with him. It was unprofessional, and really, having them hatch there of all places...it wasn't a place he cared to have new life born into the world. Problem was, Penthus Thatcher might not get it--or care to get it. For a man who was usually pretty darn astute, he wasn't the easiest to predict when it came to things like this. Meanwhile, he thought he felt movement from the egg on the right. It was slight, but he couldn't help but look down at the egg, then back up at Penthus. Chances were, he might accuse him of making excuses, or not care and simply say so. He hated to jump to conclusions when he wasn't sure. He was going to just give the older man the benefit of the doubt, until he heard his reply. He wasn't worried overmuch. There was nothing he could do. Atsuro had the report, completed as efficiently as usual. Oh, he hated doing them. Hated handing them in. But it kept Epispect off his back, and that was more important than what he did or didn't like doing. [/style] [style=width: 420px; padding-top: -2px; font-size: 10px; font-family: verdana; color: #474747; text-align: justify; text-shadow: #000000 1px 1px 2px; background-color: #171617; padding: 2px;]tags; Penthus; thanks for the reply. :3 words; 533[/style] [style=width: 420px; padding-top: -2px; font-size: 15px; font-family: georgia; font-style: italic; color: #5E5E5E; text-align: left; text-shadow: #000000 1px 1px 2px; letter-spacing: 2;] [/style] [style=font-family: courier new; font-size: 9px; color: #222222; line-height: 100%; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase;]table by Keikei @ BTN[/style]

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[ress6]

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Penthus always disliked those who slacked - and no matter how good you had once been, the moment you started to slack, that all went out the window. All it took was one week of missed reports to fall out of his good graces, and Atsuro had fallen hard. Yes, he was always a stickler, but this would be the first time Atsuro would have to face up with a properly annoyed Penthus. "That's Mr. Thatcher." He was a good eight years older then the boy, and acted even older. Even if he was only a year older then the boy, he was still his direct superior, and he expected to be treated as such. He was a fan of formalities and titles, of the proper order and place for things. Atsuro, laid-back as he was, was not exactly his favorite person at the moment. "You're entirely right. I shouldn't have had to leave my apartment to do so, but here I am anyway. You've been getting sloppy, and I'm missing an entire report, at the moment." He paused, eyeing Atsuro as if expecting to find him sitting on a report, and with none forthcoming, he uttered a soft sigh. "I expect better of my subordinates." Penthus didn't like using the term 'employees'. He didn't employ them, after all - just took in all their information and directed them. They were employed straight to epispect, and he was still technically an outside contractor - opting to avoid visiting the home office as much as possible. He rarely visited, opting to communicate through other ways. There was something so terribly indiscreet about visiting their headquarters, after all. He watched Atsuro as he glanced at the egg, the frown still on his face. That was it? Eggs? "You're perfectly capable of doing a report in the comfort of your own home, with your eggs... and you're fully capable of walking to my apartment and dropping it off while holding said eggs. It's not as if I ask much of you." Considering what he did was buying his life, Penthus thought he was getting a damn good deal.

[atsuro]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #0F0F0F; height: 500px; width: 400px; -webkit-border-radius: 4em; -moz-border-radius: 4em ; border-radius: 4em; box-shadow: #1C1B1C 0px 0px 7px;] [style=background: url(http://i56.tinypic.com/2jer1b5.jpg); height: 250px; width: 390px; -webkit-border-radius: 4em 4em 0em 0em; -moz-border-radius: 4em 4em 0em 0em; border-radius: 4em 4em 0em 0em; border: #242323 6px solid; padding-top: 25; padding-left: 25; padding-left: 25; padding-bottom: 25; opacity: 0.8;] [/style] [style=width: 420px; margin-top: -10px; padding-top: -2px; font-size: 25px; font-family: georgia; font-style: italic; color: #5E5E5E; text-align: center; text-shadow: #000000 1px 1px 2px; letter-spacing: -2;]I'm not afraid to take a stand,[/style] [style=width: 420px; padding-top: -2px; margin-top: -10px; font-size: 15px; font-family: georgia; font-style: italic; color: violet; text-align: center; text-shadow: #000000 5px 4px 2px; letter-spacing: 4px;]WE'LL WALK THIS ROAD TOGETHER[/style] [style=width: 420px; height: 250px; padding-top: -1px; font-size: 10px; font-family: verdana; color: #474747; text-align: justify; overflow: auto; padding: 5px;] It was easy to tell that the man who curtly replied that he was to be called 'Mr. Thatcher' as his next words wasn't impressed. The next few sentences clearly laid out precisely why. Problem was, he wasn't really able to deny what 'Mr.' Thatcher had to say. He knew it was true--and was hoping he'd be cut a bit of slack based on his good performance before he'd taken a little side tour, as it was. Since he'd been hunting for pokemon, his 'work' had taken a back seat. Problem was, he didn't have the leisure of letting it slack off. Epispect was nothing if not anal about how things were done by those who worked for them, or were even associated with them. He knew that better than most. Still, it frustrated him, more than he would ever admit. Subordinate. The word rankled him, and if he'd had hackles, they would have shot up. He hated being anyone's 'subordinate'. The worst part was not that he hated it. It was that it was true. It was exactly what he was, and he could have been a subordinate to someone a hell of a lot worse than Penthus. He'd gotten a fairly easy way out of his little 'situation' with Epispect. He was damn good at what he did. It didn't matter that he procrastinated to high hell on getting his reports done. He often put it off to the point of near panic that he wouldn't have it done on time at all. Somehow, he functioned best that way, and always had. Procrastinate, get it done at the last minute, to max effectiveness, and in on time or a few hours early. The bit of ego he did have was impressed with himself every time. He'd never had any complaints about his reports and work. He was damn thorough...until now. There was really no point in trying to be dishonest about it. Penthus gave the impression he'd see right through it and he was no liar, besides. Also, it rankled that he should even consider making up some 'excuse' for it. At least that last bit... He reached into his black knapsack, and removed a folder, offering it to Penthus. Oh, he'd done the report all right. About as well as he usually did. It was the 'dropping off' part he'd not been so prompt with the past week was dropping them off. He only did three in a week. He'd done the last two, as well...only they weren't with him, they were at home, in his locked desk drawer. Metal lined, no one was getting in there, it was like a safe. It and the filing cabinet, equally impossible to get into, was where all his information was stored. "The other two aren't with me, but they are completed." No excuses from him, plain and simple. He wasn't going to give Thatcher any reason to be more irate than he already was. "I'll have them to you before the end of the day." He wasn't going to apologize, either. He'd been busy with his own business for once. He hated that working for Epispect was his life now. He'd have given just about anything to get the hell away from them entirely. He didn't even want to know what they did with the gijinka he reported on. Or what they'd do if they found out there were some he didn't report on... Children, mostly. There was always shades of grey, and never just black and white. Their lives had come at a cost: the lives of others. But they hadn't killed them, and hadn't asked to get sick. There were not a lot who did anymore. The virus had nearly died out. Atsuro preferred to concentrate his talents on the power hungry. On those who killed other innocents, gijinka, to gain their DNA and sell it on the black market. He was one of the best there was at what he did. Only he couldn't bear to report on those he knew hadn't asked for what they'd gotten. Not unless they were using their new found abilities to harm others. He wondered...did Penthus ever notice that those kinds of cases were exempt from his reports? Probably he didn't care. Epispect's biggest targets were those selling on the black market, or buying from them for the 'wrong reasons'. Or buying period...not the kids who didn't know and got the DNA in the do all, end all. Killing children...is was a rank thing to even think of, leaving a proverbial bad taste in his mouth. "I've been side tracked lately. I'll do better next week," he confessed, sighing. Being an informant was better than the alternative. But it was still a harrowing job because it wasn't what he wanted to be doing with his life at all. Even if he wasn't the one directly killing the people he reported on, they still died in the end. The hunters got the information concealed in the reports, and they did the real dirty work. But without him, they wouldn't have it, period. "Did you volunteer to do what you're doing?" The words were out before he gave them much thought. He pretty much expected Penthus to tell him to mind his own damn business--but in a much more refined, Penthus Thatcher kind of way. He just...wondered. He hadn't signed on for this. He hadn't really had a choice. Now it was 'do or die' and he liked being alive, thank you very much. [/style] [style=width: 420px; padding-top: -2px; font-size: 10px; font-family: verdana; color: #474747; text-align: justify; text-shadow: #000000 1px 1px 2px; background-color: #171617; padding: 2px;]tags; Pethus; good post! words; 941[/style] [style=width: 420px; padding-top: -2px; font-size: 15px; font-family: georgia; font-style: italic; color: #5E5E5E; text-align: left; text-shadow: #000000 1px 1px 2px; letter-spacing: 2;] [/style] [style=font-family: courier new; font-size: 9px; color: #222222; line-height: 100%; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase;]table by Keikei @ BTN[/style]

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[ress6]

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Penthus's eyebrows raised as the first report was offered to him, and his hand carefully reached out, retrieving it. There were reasons he didn't do most information collection in broad daylight, but he wasn't stupid enough to glance around and see if anyone was watching. You only checked if people were watching if you had something to hide, and the best way to avoid interest was to avoid that very thing. If you looked confident, like you knew what you were doing, people had a tendency to ignore you. There were a million things wrong with what Atsuro had just done, but Penthus carefully tucked the file into his coat, pinning it under his arm in the most discrete manner possible. His face stayed even, voice calm, even if inside he was raging. "I shouldn't need to remind you that timeliness matters, Sohma. Every minute I do not have them in my hand, your reports become more and more outdated." His voice was stiff, as always, and like always, it was 'Sohma'. Never Atsuro. Everyone was a last name to him, save the rare case when you had a family working under him - two brothers, in one case. Then he found other ways to differentiate him. "I also strongly discourage you from carrying your reports around with you in the future. One pickpocket and you've been rendered completely useless." One pickpocket gathering the report, and that was that, cover blown. There was a reason the reports never included Penthus's name. They were always addressed to the 'handler', or some other silly nickname. He didn't care who they were addressed to, as long as they didn't have his name on it, and he went to great lengths to avoid being connected to Epispect itself. It was why he had runners, why he worked under pseudonyms, and why he so rarely went out like this. Going out like this had indeed been a mistake, because now he was going to have to get back to his apartment while trying to avoid being noticed, because he had a goddamn secret report on him. The question, though, caught him off guard, head tilting down to glance at Sohma. Where had that come from? Nowhere. It had come from nothing, out of thin air, and now he was supposed to answer it, he supposed. His first instinct was to inform Sohma that it was none of his business - because, simply put, it wasn't. His second, though, was to catch him off guard by being honest - which he opted to do. It wasn't as if he was ashamed of what he did - hell, he'd created the position. "Yes, I did. The job I do is needed, and having it all fall under one organizer means everything is far more efficient." Having one person to report to, who in turn reported to Epispect was a million times more efficient then having individuals all reporting to different people, and then trying to corroborate.

[atsuro]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #0F0F0F; height: 500px; width: 400px; -webkit-border-radius: 4em; -moz-border-radius: 4em ; border-radius: 4em; box-shadow: #1C1B1C 0px 0px 7px;] [style=background: url(http://i56.tinypic.com/2jer1b5.jpg); height: 250px; width: 390px; -webkit-border-radius: 4em 4em 0em 0em; -moz-border-radius: 4em 4em 0em 0em; border-radius: 4em 4em 0em 0em; border: #242323 6px solid; padding-top: 25; padding-left: 25; padding-left: 25; padding-bottom: 25; opacity: 0.8;] [/style] [style=width: 420px; margin-top: -10px; padding-top: -2px; font-size: 25px; font-family: georgia; font-style: italic; color: #5E5E5E; text-align: center; text-shadow: #000000 1px 1px 2px; letter-spacing: -2;]I'm not afraid to take a stand,[/style] [style=width: 420px; padding-top: -2px; margin-top: -10px; font-size: 15px; font-family: georgia; font-style: italic; color: violet; text-align: center; text-shadow: #000000 5px 4px 2px; letter-spacing: 4px;]WE'LL WALK THIS ROAD TOGETHER[/style] [style=width: 420px; height: 250px; padding-top: -1px; font-size: 10px; font-family: verdana; color: #474747; text-align: justify; overflow: auto; padding: 5px;] Atsuro didn't miss the raised eyebrows, and he immediately guessed what the look was about. Still, he wasn't careless. There was no one around who would notice, or care, that he was handing a file folder to someone they wouldn't recognize. Still, he had to hand it to the man: he was professional right to the end. Still, he couldn't help but feel being that uptight had to have its downsides. He again couldn't argue with Penthus' logic. He was right, and Atsuro knew he was right. So he simply nodded curtly. He knew and really didn't need to be reminded--only he did, because he'd been late as of late. So he kept his mouth shut. It was simply safer to just agree with someone who was right when you'd erred or, in this case, screwed up on something you were supposed to have done on time. The next lecture of sorts surprised him, though. Not carry his reports on him? They were always on his person. It was far harder for someone to rob him than to break in and steal from him. He was a bit taken aback that Penthus thought any 'pickpocket' would even get close enough. So, he at least could set him straight on that matter. "I always carry them on me. No pickpocket is going to be able to touch a file folder as large as the one I keep the reports in without me noticing. They won't even get close enough to try," he said, in a voice that left no room for doubt on what he was stating. "They're safer on my person than anywhere else, Th--Mr. Thatcher," he corrected himself promptly. "There's a reason I was assigned to do what I do," and here, there was a bit of bitterness. He was the best at what he did, and that's why they found him so damn useful. No report had ever been lost, or stolen. He was far more cautious than he was being given credit for. He wasn't known by anyone, really. No one ever paid him any attention, save a few interested glances by the opposite sex--or the same, at times. He made sure he was someone they forgot about soon after they met him. He was anonymous. He didn't even give out his name. He had sharper hearing than was believable. In the dark, he could use the crobat's sonar to 'see' anything, or anyone, anywhere. He had his faults, sure...but he did what he did, and he did it well. No one knew him, or watched him. Of that he was certain. He was quiet for a moment after he received the answer. He had volunteered. Atsuro wasn't surprised. Still, he was curious, now. It was true Penthus was also the best at what he did. He knew that--heck, everyone who worked for him did. It seemed, to Atsuro, that the man hardly had a life outside his job. "Does it bother you?" he found himself asking, not sure why he even cared. Yet he couldn't be the only one, could he? "That the information and reports you collect, and what we do...ends lives of people? Children, even..." he trailed off. He knew how it worked. Lives were taken, lives were saved, and there was a fine line between what was right and wrong in many cases. Still, Epispect didn't see it that way. Everyone who had illegal DNA was guilty. It was business to them, nothing more...or so he figured it. He didn't grasp the entire situation because he wasn't entirely sure himself of how this all worked. The damn selfish pricks in the black market had started this. Killing gijinka for their DNA, and selling it for lower prices than Epispect. Most people who bought it, didn't even need it. Just bought it for power. So he knew some deserved what they got. Yet everyone got the same thing, no matter who...death sentence. He had wanted out because of it. Yet there were people who went so far to think what they did was entirely right. No grey, just black or white. He wasn't sure where he stood, but he didn't think taking lives without segregation was the right way to do it. Even if he wasn't entirely sure, there could be no right in killing innocent children who would have died without it...right? He hated thinking about it. He got riled over it every time, arguing with himself. [/style] [style=width: 420px; padding-top: -2px; font-size: 10px; font-family: verdana; color: #474747; text-align: justify; text-shadow: #000000 1px 1px 2px; background-color: #171617; padding: 2px;]tags; Penthus; buh, sleepy posting. words; 764[/style] [style=width: 420px; padding-top: -2px; font-size: 15px; font-family: georgia; font-style: italic; color: #5E5E5E; text-align: left; text-shadow: #000000 1px 1px 2px; letter-spacing: 2;] [/style] [style=font-family: courier new; font-size: 9px; color: #222222; line-height: 100%; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase;]table by Keikei @ BTN[/style]

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[ress6]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true]

Penthus hadn't been expecting a correction. People rarely, if ever, corrected him, and his first instinct was to snap back, to tell Sohma that he was wrong. He was, the vast majority of the time, but Penthus paused, let himself stew over the information. No. He would be wrong to jump down Sohma's throat for it, because it was entirely possible he was correct. Penthus knew little of proper combat. He knew only that if he had things on him, they'd get pick-pocketed. His house was secure, though, rigged up with more traps then you could ever count. For Sohma, it might be the opposite. His house might be unsecure, no safer then leaving the files in the street. He did have combat experience, however, and that might be a greater advantage to the safety of the files then leaving them at home. "Hm." It was an acknowledgement, a simple noise that meant yes, Penthus had heard what had been said - and no, he wasn't going to jump down his throat for it. It was the closest Sohma was likely ever going to get to Penthus flat out admitting he was wrong. Of course, the reason he was assigned to do what he did... well, that much was obvious, no matter how noble Sohma made it sound. He was supposed to be a killer, to hunt down illegals, and instead he was gathering information. A useful job, but not his real job. Not the job he was supposed to be doing. He was here, working for Penthus, because he didn't want to kill. A coward, in so many words. Not that Penthus would ever say that. He was a coward himself, after all. He preferred flight over fight. The question he was asked, though, was so... emotional. So alarmingly pathetic. He eyed Sohma, pausing, unsure if the man was even serious. Apparently though, he was, and Penthus carefully cleared his throat. "They're rats. Even baby rats are still rats. No matter how good an individual rats intentions may be, they still bring down the place where they live. A stolen life is still stolen, regardless of who is granted that life. If you make allowances for children, they'll eventually grow up to be adults, and the problem never stops." "The thing is, Sohma, if every single illegal Gijinka was killed this very day, that'd be that. People like you and me would have no real place in the world. We'd all get shuffled around. Even so, the world would be better. It'd be a better place for everyone, and people wouldn't have to live in fear of being killed for their DNA. That's what I'd like. It's a goal we may never reach, but it's the only right thing to do. It's for the greater good of all."