Bayonet's Office

Doing her best to keep a smooth face and unmoving demeanour, Pirouette allowed Garde to talk more of her objections out into the office once she had finished speaking. She didn't move at first, simply watched the other woman, then, very delicately, began to write in her notebook once Garde got around to answering her first question. The other woman's objections, she let wash over her, though she listened carefully as she filled line after line with small, neat sharoan script. When the other woman finally petered out, she began speaking again, though her quill didn't stop.

"Claims to have pride in appearance and in office, yet fails to display any sign of police affiliation while on active duty... Considers showering and applying hair care to be appropriate on duty activities worth disregarding assigned duties for... Notes better uses of time and resources, yet disregards completely the correct channels for pursuing these improvements... Instead, wilfully disregards assigned duties purely because she believes she knows better... Drastically over-inflated ego is clearly the primary problem in this case..." Her quill pen stopped and she looked up, features still calm.

"Officer Garde, it is not my job to care about how much, or, you know, how little little esteem other members of the net police regard you with. It is not my job to be delicate. It is my job to assess, summarise, and recommend a course of action that will best provide results, no? I may advise individuals if they wish. If they ask for it, you know. That is all. You may act as offended or indignant about my assessment as you wish, Officer Garde; it is of no concern to me."

"To continue... Personal presentation is important, yes, but it is also, as you say, secondary, to fulfilling your duty appropriately. Self care, particularly in terms of cosmetic beautification, must be conducted in your own time, and on breaks. Not duty times when you are supposed to be on duty, or performing another task. This is not hard to understand, yes?"

"Next, appropriate action. You were aware that the duty you were assigned today was, how do you say... it was..." her wings twitched as she searched for the word. "Sukhodrochka... aie... busywork, yes? You knew this. You knew that it was a task of discipline, assigned to you due to previous complaints and infractions. Knowing this, you still shirked it. Do you know what this tells me, officer garde? I will tell you what this tells me."

"It tells me that you have an over-inflated sense of ego that surpasses your common sense. You do not accept culpability for your transgressions, but instead make excuses for them. You maintain your sense of right action, even when you are called down and disciplined. You do not feel bound to accept discipline for your misbehaviour because you never truly accept when you have misbehaved. This leads you to commit further transgressions in the disregarding and subverting of disciplinary measures intended to remind you of what is considered correct and appropriate, and what is not. And so you do not learn, Officer Garde, because you do not countenance the idea that you have indeed, room to learn, or need to do so." Glancing down, she wrote a few more lines, then paused again, turning the quill to the side, and delicately holding the end of the feather between the fingers of her other hand.

"I am not of the opinion that you are the worst offender in this matter, Officer Garde. On the contrary. However, I am of the opinion that you could be, and ought to be, setting a far better example both to the general populace and to other Net Police members, than you currently are, yes? As it stands, you know, my recommendation will not be a positive one. The assessment is not good, no? I would strongly recommend that you no more disregard the duties and orders you are given by commanding officers, simply because you believe you know better. If you see a better use of resources or a more efficient course of action, you will raise this with your superiors and work with them. You will respect their decision if they nevertheless overrule you. You will restrict your bouts of personal care and attending to your appearance to breaks that you have, and to times before your duties begin, rather than during the times when you are supposed to be actively representing the Net Police. Finally, Officer Garde, you will stop making excuses for yourself and your actions. They have already been found wanting, and neither I, nor anyone else, wishes to hear any more of them." Turning the quill over in her fingers for a moment, Pirouette set it down gently beside the notebook, and closed the little black cover over, sliding it to the side of her position. Next she folded her hands over each other on the desk in front of her, where the notebook had been resting.

"As of right now, I have not seen or heard anything that makes me believe that these recommendations will be taken seriously, from myself, to you. No sign that they do anything beyond falling upon unwilling ears. Before I dismiss you, and compile my recommendation, what can you say to me now, that I may take into account and lend to my considerations, Officer Garde?"

Unruffled, she watched the other woman in silence. The question of swim attire was a bit more difficult, really. She didn't want to necessarily try to make every police member wear a full official uniform, but at least some kind of unifying emblem was important; that's what badges were for, after all. How to translate that to swim wear, though...? The thought occupied her and helped keep her composure as calm as marble while she waited for Garde's closing remarks.

"You are going to have to get over 'zis obsession with NetPolice branding! None of us display our affiliation all ze time, except PatrolMan, and he's ze worse for it. You are not even wearing identification yourself!" Garde pointed out, jabbing her empty sword hand at Pirouette in protest. She puffed up her cheeks and crossed her arms, smoldering as she tried her best to avoid complaining about everything that was said. "Zis assessment is very unfair..." she complained, growing more quiet as she became increasingly concerned that the examination might have consequences. "I didn't shirk it! I tried to do it better, like I explained!" she asserted. "Ooo, you don't really know me! If you knew me, you'd know how hard I work when I'm on an important mission! Or how much ze populace appreciates my religious patrol schedule! I live and breathe 'ze NetPolice!"

Garde tried harder to keep quiet as Pirouette gave a little, though, having seen some of the other bottom-of-the-barrel NP officers, it was not hard to avoid being the worst NP officer. She opened her mouth to complain more, then thought the better of it, seeming to decide that she'd gotten the best conclusion she was going to get. "... Oui, oui. I will try to do what you want me to," she murmured, seeming to lose all her steam at once. "Ah, er, I'm going to do better, you should write 'zat. Write 'zat I promised to be a better officer," Garde requested again nervously, trying to lean over the desk a bit and see if Pirouette was following through with the request. "Who are you reporting zis to?" she whispered, lowering her eyebrows and fidgeting nervously with her fingers wrapping around one another, in and out.

It seemed more like Pirouette was trying to damage control her way out of the disastrous interview than that she'd really learned anything. At any rate, she was probably as ready to be dismissed as Pirouette was to move on, and the difficulty of changing her behavior had become pretty evident.

Pirouette watched, quiet, while Garde answered then closed her eyes and inclined her head politely. She let herself visibly relax a little bit, in a way that Garde could see, then resettled her wings for an extra moment.

"I am sorry, Officer Garde, and please understand, but I am not obliged to tell you to whom I am reporting in this matter. Only that it is an issue of internal affairs, which you already know, yes? I have, however, understood that you promise to made efforts to, how do you say, lift your game. In your case, it is only simple, minor issues, nothing more. I have far worse offenders to deal with today, I assure you. For you, simply bear these points in mind, yes? First, personal care on your own time, not on duty. Second, if it is not an emergency, make efforts to follow the proper channels for improving net police performance; when you know how yourself and others may be put to better use, clear this with our superior first. Finally, bear in mind that we all have room to improve ourselves, and work actively towards doing so; this means being able to acknowledge where your own flaws lie, you know, and seeking to work upon them. I wish you the best of luck, Officer Garde." She raised a hand with an open palmed release gesture, letting the other woman know that she was dismissed. "Please return to the beach for now and complete the rest of your assigned tasks."

She waited, with something of a reassuring smile on the corner of her lips, until Garde had seen herself back to the beach, and then took some actually real notes in her little show notebook, jotting down some of her extra thoughts on Garde's case. Next she stood and performed a quick search of the office, looking for any kind of formal, net police official security or video feeds. Regardless of the outcome, however, she returned to lean on the desk and composed a quick private message to Bayonet, keeping it as brief as she could, in the hope of not interrupting her meeting.

Quote (From: Pirouette)

Sorry to interrupt you, but I must ask, is there any net police admissible means of recording the interview I conduct with PatrolMan? I ask only because I am nervous that he may act out, and I would appreciate the extra security of it to evidence his actions and ensure he does not do anything rash, and also, of course, to be kept accountable myself, and let the net police see that I do not overstep my bounds. Again, sorry for the interruption.

While she waited for a response, Pirouette looked over the other files she had at her disposal, and pondered whether she should call HoundMan in in the mean time. The timing of summoning PatrolMan was something she wanted to be precise about; enough time to stew, but not long enough to cool off. In the end, she decided that calling a second person before him would give him too much time to calm down and cool off, so instead she busied herself with reading over each file again and waiting for Bayonet's answer.

Garde's mood seemed to improve with Pirouette's dismissal (which was probably not the intended effect), and she became talkative again. "Oh, oui, perhaps you are a nice girl after all! Do not worry, I have taken all of your words to heart! I am always improving as an officer, and if 'zese are all 'zings I must improve on to be 'ze best, 'zen you must believe that I will improve all of them! You won't regret your good report at all!" she finished, pressing one fist to her chest and grinning widely, as though saying that she was going to get a good report would make it impossible for Pirouette to do otherwise. "Until we meet again, mon amie!" she finished, saluting and then jacking back out. She still probably hadn't figured out that Pirouette wasn't an official part of the NetPolice yet.

Pirouette couldn't find any sort of surveillance technology to use here, but at least the response from Bayonet was quick.

Quote (Bayonet)

If you've met him and feel that way, then I assume he's being his usual boorish self. Unfortunately, I don't have a full means of recording available... an oversight on my part for which I apologize. However, I do have an audio recorder that I use at times. It's in one of the drawers to the right side of my desk. To activate it, simply push the top, then push it again once you're done. Don't hit the button on the side, or you'll play back whatever I had recorded there. Whether you show it as you use it or not is up to you; it should record fine even if you leave it in the drawer. If you're feeling threatened, then showing that to him may help you somewhat.

I must return to my work, but if he gives you any significant trouble, please contact me again regardless.

It sounded as though Bayonet had indeed been pulled away from something, but she didn't sound upset about it, at least. Pirouette would have some means of recording the conversation with PatrolMan; the recording device, a long stick device with a microphone at top, which pushed in and illuminated during recording, if she was to test. All there was to do now was decide which interviewee she wanted to call in next.

Upon receiving her answer from Bayonet, Pirouette nodded to herself and opened the drawer she'd been pointed to, examining the dictaphone and making sure she understood its working correct. As a test, she set it back in the drawer and closed it most of the way, then positioned herself more comfortably at the desk and spoke outwards to the room.

"My name is Pirouette. I am a civilian navi, contracted from the GNA and engaged in this work under instruction from Officer Bayonet, of Internal Affairs, of the Net Police. My task is to interview and attempt to assist in the reforming of several undesired behaviours from other police members." She stopped there, waited a moment, then retrieved the device and attempted to play it back, to check the sound quality.

If she was able to play back just the section that she'd recorded herself, and it sounded clear, then the ballerina would set the equipment back in the drawer and ready to go; if the only way to check was for the device to play through Bayonet's earlier recordings as well, then she patiently let them run through back to the end point, so that she could be sure she wasn't over-writing anything that the actual police woman had recorded.

Once it was set up and recording properly and clearly, and, just as importantly, out of sight and hidden, Pirouette picked up PatrolMan's file and set it in front of herself, flicking through it one more time. there wasn't a lot to be learned form the file that she hadn't learned in person, though, so she moved around to the front of the desk, and hopped up on it, crossing one leg over the other as she perched on it. Once more, she pulled the black feather quill from the air beside her and set it down next to the notebook, which she'd moved to an easy to reach location just behind her. A few more deep breaths while she settled her wings and straightened her tu-tu, then she pressed the button to summon the lout of a man. By her thinking, he'd had just enough time to stew and kick up his fury about her, and ideally, not enough to calm down again.

She waited, hands on the edge of the desk for him to arrive, but when he did, the ballerina just looked at him with a small, silent grin on her lips, and didn't speak right away.

Pirouette decided to make use of the recording device that Bayonet had described, first testing its recording capabilities inside the hidden space of the desk. After pressing the head and speaking a few words about her efforts for the GNA mission, she would push it again and flick the switch on its right for playback. A monotone woman's voice narrated:

Quote ()

Push to stop playback. Switch up for next message. Switch down for previous message. 2 new messages are recorded. Playing: message one...

Next came Bayonet's voice:

Quote ()

The 'party' was a disaster, as anticipated. My role there wasn't as a guest, of course, so it's no wonder that I didn't have a good time. To think that man would abuse his paltry gift of chance to turn me into an exhibition for all of his co-workers... It disgusts me to think back to it. Although, I must say, I took a certain satisfaction in watching his sabotaged car catch fire and splash down into his pool. I will have to thank that ninja properly the next time I see her. At any rate, I can hardly imagine the condition of the car created much confidence when he went to propose his idea. This should put an end to silly talk of rolling these useless distractions out to more of the force.

It sounded like Pirouette wasn't the only one using sneaky means to right the course of the ship, so to speak. Beyond that, the details sounded a little sordid, perhaps something to ask Bayonet about later. For now, Pirouette went on to message two, which spoke in her own voice:

Quote ()

My name is Pirouette. I am a civilian navi, contracted from the GNA and engaged in this work under instruction from Officer Bayonet, of Internal Affairs, of the Net Police. My task is to interview and attempt to assist in the reforming of several undesired behaviours from other police members.

With the recorder check completed, Pirouette would deactivate playback by hitting the top of the device. Presumably, there was another way to access the full archive of messages, but Bayonet hadn't given her instructions for that. For now, she'd just want to remember to hit the head of the device again when she was ready to start recording. She set it up, inside the drawer, recording, and out of sight, then moved to the front of the desk and sat with her legs crossed, smiling as she summoned PatrolMan.

It didn't take long at all for the man to appear. What was, perhaps, surprising, is that he didn't appear alone; he came carrying GangsaMan, the other navi head-locked under one of his arms and entirely nude, once again. "Bayonet! I'm a little busy right now-!" the larger navi complained, before realizing that Pirouette was not, in fact, Bayonet. Seeming to realize something funny was up, he released his hold on GangsaMan and refocused on Pirouette. "The crap are you doing here? What's with that pose, huh? You think you're sexy?" he asked, curling up one lip. "You know what's not sexy? After your little stunt, everybody started beating the hell out of my car! I don't know if you're some kind of senior NetPolice I've never heard about till now, but whoever you are, you owe me the cost of repairs!"

GangsaMan, now free, stood back up to his full height and caught his breath. "You're lucky I... set aside my weaponry..." he huffed. "Or else that would have gone a lot different!"

"Yeah, in your dreams, Pantsless Wonder," he scoffed. "Anyway, where the heck is Bayonet? She just called me in here. I was gonna tell her how this jerk-off over here upset everybody at the beach by going commando and how a certain little bitch got in my way when I tried to detain him, but whaddya know, you're here too! I'll turn you both in to Bayonet at the same time. Now, where is she?!" he grumbled, perhaps slowly realizing that if Pirouette was here, that likely meant she was the one who had made the call... or perhaps he wasn't really quick enough to put two and two together that way.

Content that the device was working reliably, focused on keeping a clam expression and relaxed body posture while she waited on PatrolMan. When he arrived however, her eyebrows jumped up immediately to see that he had brought someone else with him. That wouldn't do at all. She waited for PatrolMan's rant to subside fora moment, though a part of her was mildly disappointed that he hadn't lunged right for her. That would have made it too easy, though. Oh well. Instead, she ignored him completely for the time being, and turned her attention to the naked one.

"GangsaMan, if you would please, you are dismissed from this office for the time being. I will call upon you soon. I would appreciate it if you were properly dressed by the time I call you back, so that we may talk, calmly, yes? You may go." She ruffled her wings slightly, drawing a breath and glancing down to one side while she waited for him to depart, making it obvious that she had no intention of continuing further until her request was met. If PatrolMan made any further fuss she continued to ignore it and didn't look at him, but instead reached behind her and retrieved her black notebook. Opening it, she skimmed through the scribbled notes, flicking the pages with one finger as she scanned and waited. When she was alone in the office with her most difficult charge she finally looked to PatrolMan properly.

"My name is Pirouette, and I have borrowed the use of Officer Bayonet's office for my purposes today, you know. Now, perhaps, PatrolMan, you can tell why you believe you are here, and what you have to say for yourself, no?" For flair, she plucked the black feather quill out of the air again, rather than retrieving it from behind herself, and let her notebook flick to a blank page.

"Setting aside that casting sexual commentary like that is very unbecoming of a member of the NetPolice... On the beach, you laid hands upon my person without my consent. Further, despite my pleading to be released, you proceeded to mock my body, and also to touch me in several severely inappropriate places. What have you to say to this?"

As she waited, poised, she was ready, in fact, to cry out if he tried to 'arrest' her physically again — her questions were sparse so far and didn't give him too much while still being somewhat goading, but she wasn't certain it was going to be quite so easy to draw him into an easily actionable offence. If he'd lasted this long, and been as much of a thorn in Bayonet's side, then it was likely that he was clever enough to keep his vile behaviour under wraps when superiors were concerned. She didn't want to imply that she was in a judgemental position over him just yet, for that reason. So instead she waited, listened, and goaded gently.

Really, she could come back to his other complaints at any point, and she filed them away in her mind; jumping back to address earlier remarks that she'd seemingly ignored might even be a god way to keep him off balance later, if she needed to.

"Yes, I knew the call wasn't for me, but as you can see, I was dragged here," GangsaMan complained, still locked in the tight grip of the crook of PatrolMan's arm. "Wearing clothes now is hypocritical to all I believe. We can discuss that further at my appointed time," he finished, gritting his teeth for a moment as he tried to wiggle free again. Unable to do so, he settled for transporting himself back to the beach.

PatrolMan watched GangsaMan leave, then crossed his arms at his chest. "What, you're going to tell me off but don't have anything to say to Nudey-Boy? What, should I strip down too?" he joked, shaking his head irritably. "You just brought me here to stare? Don't you have anything better to do than to keep screwing with me?" the big officer gripes, increasingly impatient. Finally, he seemed to catch on that she was waiting for him to shut up, so he threw up his hands and did so, leaning against the chair regardless of the lack of invitation.

"I believe I'm here because Officer Bayonet has a stick up her ass and is still sore from the time I made her shake said ass while she washed my car," the vulgar officer posited, smirking proudly. "It's a nice ass, though, for what that's worth. Not like you. If some girl's going to try and ride me, I'd want it to be someone with a little more to offer than you've got," he complained. "Skinny, your consent doesn't have a single thing to do with it when you're interrupting an arrest. Since when does an officer need consent from a criminal? And uh, if you're coming at me for giving you a little poke in the boob, how about you flashing the whole beach, huh? Pot, meet kettle, right?" he sniffed.

On one hand, his assault so far was purely verbal abuse and no more attempts to manhandle her. On the other, he wasn't showing any kind of tact that seemed to explain how he'd managed to avoid discharge for this long. Engaging him a little longer might clarify that matter, but for now, he seemed very convinced that his behavior wasn't going to get him in any sort of trouble, for whatever reason. "Well, we done here?" he asked, frowning hard. "I'm not going to try to book you for obstruction or anything since I guess Bayonet's the one who put you up to this, but you should probably read a book or two while you're here and learn what the extent of your 'rights' are when you mouth off to an officer."

Listening to PatrolMan's answers, Pirouette took small notes in her book with the quill and affecting an air of unconcern. While she did, however, her mind went quickly over everything else that had happened. Strangely enough, she realised, the man had been unexpectedly careful on several important key points. Most notably, not matter how it had looked and seemed, he had made threatening motions, but hadn't actually made a move to lay hand on her until after he'd declared his intent to arrest her. It had seemed like coincidence at the time, in amongst his other brash behaviour, but now she wasn't so sure. She began to talk quietly, as though to herself as she wrote.

"Claims that others wearing revealing clothing justifies uninvited sexual contact... continues to pass sexual commentary and make derogatory slurs against women even while being interviewed... propositioned exposing himself indecently to interviewer... continued derogatory language and insults directed at other officers..." She put a dot at the end of one line and looked up at him again.

"No, we are not done, PatrolMan. This interview has only just started." She paused for a moment, letting the extra second stretch before continuing just before he could fill the space with any more objections.

"Do you believe that the way you talk to civilians is appropriate and becoming of a NetPolice officer. You believe that you are entitled to treat others in such a demeaning way, no? Why? Why continue to act in such an overtly abusive manner when you are aware it only makes doing your job harder? You spoke, on the beach, about things you have arrested others for, yes? And yet within that, you made clear that, were a civilian to act towards you as you act towards me, you know, that you would certainly arrest them immediately. You believe it is your right to maintain this imbalanced and abusive position?" She paused briefly, rolling her shoulders and re-crossing her legs as she did, then ruffled her wings slightly as she resettled and began taking notes again, looking down at her notebook rather than at the man opposite her.

It didn't seem as though she was going to be able to easily goad him into a direct assault in the confines of this office, where it would be recorded... but she was still vaguely prepared for it and ready to brace herself for it, if it did happen. Mostly she was hoping he might let a little something more go about why he seemed to be so untouchable, despite his obvious attitude problems.

"Hey, I'm not against all women! Just uppity snobs like you, Skinny. You and Jugs have that in common," PatrolMan snickered, content to fire off as many further derogatory remarks as he could while Bayonet was out of the office. "Ha, well, I might as well drop some knowledge on you since you've got so many questions. We can treat this as a lesson for you rather than an interrogation for me. Lesson number one: demand respect!" he began, holding up a fist and then thumbing out one of his large fingers, firing off his alarm as he did and briefly strobing a blue light obnoxiously out of his helmet. "The truth is, we NetPolice do a hard, thankless job. The people of the net are entitled asswipes who don't have a lick of respect for the work that I do. If you try to be nice and worry about people's feelings or whatever other crap like that, you're just wasting your time; they'll walk all over you. But being a goody-two-shoes is just as bad. There's shades of gray to everything. That's lesson number two! Nothin' pisses people off like a good-two-shows, so being the bad cop is actually the cool thing to do now. Chicks love it," he chuckled, not seeming to realize that a survey of 2/2 women would vote in opposition to that.

The big man crossed his arms, absently inspecting some of Bayonet's model ships as he continued pontificating. "So to answer your question: yes, I do think it's okay for me to keep an imbalanced position. It's not about balance, okay? It's about I'm a cop, I put in the work, I deserve to stand above the mooks and society only keeps running alright if I remind people where they stand every now and again. Got all that?" he asked again, looking over his shoulder with a smug smile. At this point, he seemed to just be running his mouth to entertain himself, clearly still not fearing any consequences regardless of what he said. "What, are you writing all this down to give to Bayonet? Sorry you don't like the way I do things, but that's not gonna accomplish a damn thing. I've got friends in high places," he sneered, perhaps giving some insight to his trump card... but she might have been able to guess that much already. The real questions were who was keeping him on the force, how, and for that matter, why?

At this point, Pirouette wasn't in much danger of running out the timer. it stood to reason she ought to have enough time to interview anyone she wanted separately, so long as the average officer came in and out as fast as Garde and didn't linger the way PatrolMan had so far.

As PatrolMan responded, Pirouette wrote, taking quick bullet points of his statements and forcing her expression to remain calm. Bayonet hadn't been wrong; this individual truly had no business being in the employ of the NetPolice at all. No-one who would put themselves in a position above the law did, and she had now as blunt an admission of that belief from him as it was possible to get. At last she composed her thoughts and stopped writing. She didn't look at PatrolMan right away, but instead brushed her lips delicately with the end of her quill, then slowly closed the notebook and set it aside, with the pen on top. He had mentioned his friends in high places. That was what she needed on two levels. Not just for what it was, of course, but also, it showed from him the admission that he knew very well that his actions and behaviours were not appropriate. He probably believed they were justified and the best way to do things, maybe at least, but he knew they weren't correct, and simply felt safe and assured that someone higher up had his back. That, she could work with.

When she looked up again it was into the officer's eyes and she made the transition from sitting on the edge of the desk to standing in front of it in a small, silent motion. Next, slowly, she walked towards him, hands behind her back and wings down, though still looking to his face. It didn't matter how much taller than him he was; this was about presence, and if PatrolMan was loud and brash, Pirouette certainly knew how to command and air of absolute poise about herself. When she spoke, it started very quiet; enough that he'd be able to hear clearly, but in direct contrast to his bully-boy tones.

"Have you considered, PatrolMan, that in all of your over-reaching, you may have finally exhausted the favour of those who would shelter you?" She stopped just a step or two from him, her hands coming around to her front in a steepled clasp that pressed her finger tips together. "Have you considered, perhaps, that I am here today, instead of Bayonet, to whom I do not, in fact, answer, you know, because you have made yourself more of a headache to protect than your continued friendship is worth?" Her wings rose slowly as she spoke, lifting to an arch as she let her force of quiet presence fill the space.

"When you arrived, PatrolMan, I gave you my name. I am not required to inform someone of your position anything more about my rank or standing if I do not wish to; my name, I give out of courtesy. You will think very carefully about the position you find yourself in, and you will think carefully about whether you wish to continue using derogatory and sexually insulting terms, or whether, as would be wiser, you will use the name I offered you for the rest of this interview." Her gaze became a harder glare and her wings arched to stiffness, though she didn't raise her voice by even a hair and kept it soft and even.

"Lesson one. I do not desire nor require your respect to do my job. I simply do it. I do not need to rave or bully or raise my voice. I simply do what I deem necessary, without a fuss. You have attempted to, as you say, walk all over me, at every opportunity since we met, and it has gotten you precisely nowhere, PatrolMan, because I am doing my job, and your opinion on that means nothing to me."

"Lesson two." She continued, her voice firm and quiet but with an edge of intensity. "The NetPolice upholds. They do not stand above. If you behave in a way that you would arrest other people for, then you are not fit to be a member of the NetPolice. If you joined up because you believed it was a good place to grant you the power to bully other people and boss them around, then you should resign. Perhaps go and join the Shogunate instead, no?"

"Lesson three." This time her wings ruffled and shuddered briefly, bristling before regaining their stiff arch. "There is no circumstance, at all, where it is ever appropriate for any member of the NetPolice to initiate uninvited sexual contact with, or pass perverse sexual commentary upon, anyone. It does not matter if it is another officer, a civilian or a criminal which you are apprehending, this is never appropriate under any circumstance." Pirouette took an extra moment to lock eyes with him, standing her ground with poise against his much larger size, then, with a suddenly relaxed stance, turned her back on him and walked back to the desk where she reclaimed her notebook and quill, and flipped open again. Still with her back to him, the ballerina glanced back over her shoulder. Her voice had smoothed out to a resigned tone to match her stance.

"I am not a 'goody-two-shoes' as you put it, PatrolMan. I am just a woman doing her job, quietly, efficiently, and without a fuss. You might stand to learn several things, no? Now... Unless you have any final remarks you wish to add which you think may help your position or mitigate your failures, I am finished with you. You are dismissed to return to your assigned duties." Her face turned back to her notebook after she finished speaking, looking away from him and keeping her back to him dismissively while she took some more notes and waited for him to, potentially, throw another tantrum before leaving. She wasn't expecting to get through to him properly, really... her real hope had been that in implying that his protection had expired, PatrolMan's reaction might give her, or at least Bayonet, some more workable information about exactly who it was that was protecting him and why. In the end she found herself distinctly relieved that it seemed as though any kind of actual assault form him wasn't' going to happen. Mentally she'd been preparing for it, thinking of it as an acting role, or as doing a partner dance with someone she very much didn't care for, but as the likelihood of it faded, the relief was more palpable than she'd anticipated.

PatrolMan's eyes remained unseen behind the blue glass inside the narrow slit of his visor, but his mouth held a challenging sneer as she left the desk and approached him. The look on his face told her that he believed himself untouchable and didn't think there was any chance that whatever threats she could come up with could make much of a difference against him. His grin curled down slightly as she resumed her attack from another angle, however; soon, it had become an angry grimace. "What...?" he asked, tilting his head up and sounding both agitated and confused. "Hey, I've fooled around a little, but all I've ever done is what that bastard told me I could and should, alright? What is this, are you telling me I'm a fall guy?! Cut the bullcrap, this isn't some movie!" he shouted. He'd become so tense so quickly that it was likely the narrative was pretty on point with worries he'd already been harboring. "I'm gonna...!" he growled, then muttered a hurried expletive before clenching his hands into his fists.

As he listened, trying his best to holster his own tongue, his mouth continued to betray hints of his own aggravation. He let her get all the way through, then marched back towards her, slamming one hand back onto the desk. "Dammit...!" he snarled again, his lips curling around another word, perhaps an insult that he wanted to say but couldn't due to her restrictions. "What the heck are you talking about?! My conduct?! I thought you guys said I wasn't going to have to worry if I did things my way? Just how deep in the crapper are we, huh, that you're telling me to be a good boy while I pick up trash on the beach? There can't be any danger just from stupid stuff like that, can there?" he asked, locking up his jaw into a tight frown. He put his hands back into fists then straightened up his back. "Fine. Doesn't matter. You guys say jump, I ask how high, I get it. You just keep doing your part and I'll do mine. I guess I've got no choice but to try to be a little more saintly, huh?" the big man complained. "I know the way this works. I'm in deep now and there's no walking away. And I don't want to! I'm gonna keep being loyal, you don't have to worry about it, just... you know... damn! I'm not supposed to have to worry about this crap! You guys do your part, alright?!"

After simmering down for a moment, he spoke back up. "Hey, who's snooping around anyway? Besides Bayonet, I mean? Is it the witch?" he grumbled, laying off the offensive names (to an extent) for the sake of showing he was under control. "I'll bet it's the witch. If you guys want me to do something about it and get all our asses off the line, just say the word," he finished, then turned his head towards the shelves of model ships. He was probably lamenting his inability to smash them without directly disobeying orders from his shadowy superiors. Thus frustrated, he took her offer to leave before he dug himself in any deeper and said anything he'd regret (more), jacking out in a beam of blue with an alarm blare behind him. With that, the most important disciplinary action was over, for now, and she could either report this valuable info to Bayonet or otherwise continue on to address more of the officers of concern.

It was an effort for Pirouette to keep her features smooth and calm while PatrolMan reacted to her veiled implication. As he gave her more insight, however, and wound down, Pirouette inclined her head and let her wings relax. As he gave his final words she managed a few small, potentially mollifying lines to the dubious police officer, just before he left.

"I appreciate your understanding, PatrolMan, and I apologise for speaking... firmly to you. I will, of course, continue to do my part in this matter. Your loyalty is noted, yes? Good day."

When he as gone, Pirouette stepped back, relaxing onto the desk and letting out a long breath that seemed to make most of her body go loose and deflated for a few moments. After a second, she blinked then sat up again, rolling her shoulders. He stood and walked back around the desk, then opened the drawer and retrieved Bayonet's dictaphone.

"This is Pirouette, I am stopping this recording, now." She murmured in an even tone, then pressed the button to stop it, as she'd been instructed, then slipped it away again and sat once more at the desk to review her notes. That had certainly been something. Not quite the explosion she'd been expecting from him, but something far more telling and worrying. Hopefully Bayonet would know what to do with the evidence she had collected. She took a few extra long breaths to calm and centre herself, then looked over her other files, making a selection.

Pulling GangsaMan in now would probably be best, just to further avoid him and PatrolMan coming into any more conflict... corrupt or not, the obnoxious one had been correct in as much as GangsaMan's indecent exposure was a problem, and his file painted a deeper problem. She read over the details available to her once more, then slid the folder to the side and pressed the call button. she had requested that he dress himself before returning, but she wasn't' entirely sure that he would, and was prepared for that possibility. She was a little apprehensive, even so, since, to be frank, grief counselling wasn't something she was cut out to do. Oh well, the best she could do was her best. She waited at the desk for him to appear.

With Pirouette's deception complete and valuable information extracted, she now turned off the recorder. In hindsight, it was a good thing she'd decided to explain herself going into it, since, if she hadn't, it could very well sound like a self-indictment as well. Before calling in GangsaMan, she decided to review what materials she had available and what she'd learned so far. All of his oldest files indicated a model service record: he'd been selected for a mentorship program in the NetPolice, wherein he was part of a small group of other newbie officers. Of those, the only two who were still active appeared to be himself and City. The other two, Libertine and CarriageMan, had both been deleted, the first in the Net War and the second in a random attack. His assigned mentor had been BrassMan, a ranked member of the Department of Internal Affairs. He'd undergone many successful missions and it appeared that he'd be a shoe-in for Internal Affairs, before the deaths of his partners.

The best of the notes ended there and the next were mostly a collection of disciplinary reports, detailing a slow descent into his current character. His attitude had gone from grieving to indifference, now to insane-seeming eschewing of responsibility and even clothing. He claimed to have adopted a policy of nihilism, but there was nothing to explain why things had gone that way. Losing belief in something would make sense, but nothing in the file seemed to explain what, specifically, could have caused him to go so far off the reservation as he had. It sounded like he had picked up a girlfriend at some point and entered a relationship, but those notes were mostly gossip and there was no mention of the girl's name or anything past her gender.

He showed up promptly enough, still not dressed, but at least having the modesty to carry a white-and-red-checked towel. It'd be better if he was wearing the towel around his waist, but instead, he simply held it at his groin in one fist. "I've returned," he announced himself with a grave, serious expression... though there was something about his straight, low-set eyebrows that always made his face look a bit overly severe. "I've got to hand it to you... Whatever you said to PatrolMan seems to have affected him in some way. That's very rare. Perhaps I should have faith in your abilities, but I'm sorry to say I don't," he began, frankly but rudely. "Don't be offended, though. I don't have faith in anyone or anything." Thankfully, he shut up now, so that she could begin approaching this from the angle of her choosing.

Pirouette had been hoping that GangsaMan would heed her request and be dressed when he returned, but she managed to keep her initial reaction to a few blinks and a deliberate focus on his face. She still wasn't sure how to approach this one, but now she was here and putting it off wasn't going to help. She took a breath, then paused, biting her lip again, brow furrowed. Where to start?

"GansaMan... My name is Pirouette. I am... A ballerina, as you could probably guess, no? Nothing more than that, on the surface, and much more, for what it is to be myself. If I am not mistaken, you were named for the arts as well, no? Tell me..." Her head tilted softly as she spoke. Polar opposite of her work with PatrolMan, there was a softness and a thoughtful care in her voice now, mirrored in her gentle expression. She stood, beginning to walk around the desk.

"You ask me not to be offended... and I wonder why you do so, if you do not care..." she stopped, pausing still and pressing her finger tips to each other in front of her, part way around the desk and looking off to the side, then immediately waved on hand, brushing the question away.

"No. I apologise. I am not... aie... I am not here to interrogate you. I am not offended. I wish... ah... I would like you to be comfortable, yes?" She took a few more steps, then leaned against the front of the desk. After a moment she spoke again, tilting her head to one side as she watched him.

"Please, if you wish to take a seat, we may sit, but I won't put this large desk between us like some kind of interview, you know?" She gestured with one hand and followed GangsaMan's own lead depending on his choice. At this point she wouldn't be surprised if he opted to sit on the floor, but if so she'd do the same, for the sake of keeping the playing field even.

"So..." she began, turning other thoughts over in her head. "I am told you have decided to embrace a form of nihilism in your daily life, yes? What can you tell me about this? I have only read a little of the philosophies of our old masters, you know. Tell me more of yourself. I wish to understand more clearly. If something would help you relax, do let me know, yes?" Notes and reports were one thing, but she didn't really think she could try to help GangsaMan's situation without hearing it from his own mouth first, though a part of her was still concerned about the idea that someone higher up was having a bad influence on him.

The navi opposite Piroutte kept his eyebrows low and his eyes locked with Pirouette's; it was the type of intense expression that would make one want to look elsewhere, but in this case, looking elsewhere would be even more awkward. "Yes, I used to play the instrument for which I was named. Indeed, at that time, it was significantly easier to understand the reason for my name, because the look of my armor matched that of the instrument as well. I understand your concern, but know that nothing I do is intended to offend you, nor does my policy of nihilism mean that I do not care if my actions offend others. At the same time, I want others to embrace the same understanding that I have and just... let it all go, to put it simply. I've found peace with this way of life, and I believe others will as well," he explained. "Though, like everything, the more you have to think about it, the less it means. It is best not to concern yourself too heavily with it, or with anything. In time, that will result in doing best unto others."

Her reassurances only seemed to make him more suspicious; there was something very strange about a person like this, who seemed so alert and critical, claiming the sort of policy he had. "Thank you; if I have my choice, I'll stand," he conferred, remaining upright and still (and unabashedly nude) like a statue. "As I mentioned earlier, the more I have to say about it, the less it means. Put quite simply, I wish to live a life free from pressuring others, but also being pressured. If you've read my file," he continued, casting a brief glance to the files on the table, "then you know that those I cared for were taken from me. For a long time, I was bitter against the Mafia, but the truth is, it was all part of the same senseless struggle we navis are caught in every day. While humans learn to drive cars, to cook, to play an instrument, we arrive 'from the womb' with weapons in our hands. I don't know if nihlism is the answer, but I do know that this life we navis live... NetPolice, Mafia, whoever... is a useless construct and an entrapment. The only way we can free ourselves from the yoke of those expectations is to first dump all of our concerns... clear ourselves of memories, duties, and the like. And in time, I feel confident, the answer will come to me."

Here, he turned to look around the moment; if Pirouette didn't avert her eyes, she'd be treated to the sight of his bare backside again for a moment as he examined Bayonet's many war-related artifacts with a critical gaze. "It must sound strange to you. You're a ballerina; I assume you still love the stage and relish the chances you have to perform. However, I ask you to turn your thoughts inward: you were created to be a ballerina, with all of your talents in place and a plan ahead of you that your operator likely considers unalterable. Have you ever thought what you might do if you freed yourself from that weight? I can't promise you what you might discover, but in my own case, I've found I never want to pick up my instrument again. In time I will find something, and when that time comes, I will adopt a new name. Or not. I care not for what the world expects of me in that matter." There was a lot to digest here, but so far, GangsaMan hadn't revealed the actual source of his new doctrine.

Pirouette listened, watching his eyes and his expression as he spoke in what she had to conclude were predominately empty circles without any actual substance to them. She pondered if he was aware of that himself, or whether the outlook he'd picked up had been bought into wholesale with no understanding. He might be refusing to be clear, or he might not be able to. Certainly there was more to it than a simple grief response though. Perhaps a test, in that case. She mentally stilled herself and slipped into her performance calm.

"So, you say you wish to live a life without being pressured, and without pressuring others, yes? You say that it is not the case that you do not care how others receive your actions and decisions. I do not pretend to know what policy for yourself you adopt, sir, but it most certainly is not Nihilism, you know. I suspect that you do not understand what the word means, or the philosophy it represents, sir... at the least you have said nothing that makes me think you do, you understand this, yes?" She stood upright and put her finger tips together in front of her chest, then turned her back to him, giving signs of thoughtfulness.

"Are you perhaps embracing nihilism of existence? Or is it nihilism of morality? I cannot, of course, be epistemic nihilism, you understand. Regardless, you only selectively seem to want to follow the code you embrace now, as it suites you, and while that is fine, it does mean you cannot hide your choices and actions behind a philosophical stance, yes. You must admit simply that you behave as you do because you wish to, you know." She turned back again, now folding one arm across her middle so that she could perch her other elbow on the wrist and raise thoughtful fingertips to her chin as she watched him.

"Let me give you some examples, no? I will show you what I am meaning." She gestured with one hand to the office they were in.

"You judge me and make many assumptions about me in ignorance, and that is a pressure you place upon me as you levy expectations. You suppose that I have not considered a life outside of Ballet and performance, and yet, if that were even remotely true, sir, I would not be here, now, speaking with you, as part of work for the NetPolice. By your word, it sounds as though you expect me to act and behave as a ballerina at every waking moment of my life, without thought. That, too, is a social pressure you are pushing onto me... simply because it suites you to do so to make some kind of argument, no?" She waved the point aside with one hand, and took a few graceful steps back and forth across the room.

"If your personal description of nihilism is to say that there is no meaning in any of this, then I am sorry, sir, but you go against that statement every moment that you remain out of dress. If there were no meaning to it, then it would not matter if you were clothed or not, you know. I made a polite request of you, and you have disregarded it, which is hurtful and rude, yes, but it also shows that you do find there to be meaning in this decision after all. If you did not, you would have complied... since you also say you do not wish to offend or put pressure on others." Her hands were pressed palm together now as she moved around the office, chatting calmly and with her voice pleasant and welcoming, despite the step by step deconstruction of his explanation she was working through. She stopped at the desk, once more putting her back to GangsaMan — she was being careful not to use his name aloud, out of politeness to his claims of wishing to disown it, but was still thinking of him by the moniker.

"Another example; I spoke to you when you arrived, and made it clear I wished to keep our meeting on equal terms, yet even knowing this, and despite my polite request that you come to our meeting clothed, you remain as you are, so, that places further pressure on me..." At that point Pirouette took a last stabilising breath, then reached up behind her neck to the small clasps at the back of her leotard.

She was fully immersed in her stage calm as she unclasped; this was part of a performance, and it was not the first time she had been in states of undress or very close to for the sake of playing a role on stage. What mattered, compared to other times, was that it was her voluntary decision related to a role. So her fingers and arms were perfectly stable and still as she slipped the fabric from her shoulders and slid it down her body. She wasn't going particularly quickly, or deliberately slow; her aim was calm and casual, and without a fuss. When the leotard was at her hips, she deftly unfastened her tu-tu as well and set it aside, then bent down top slide the heels of the leotard past her feet, so that I would come off her legs smoothly. Her hands didn't pause as they returned to her hips and slipped the garment down and off the rest of the way, then, still with a calm expression, she folded it up and set in on the desk alongside her tu-tu, turning back to the man in the office with her arms crossed beneath where her bust would have been, if she'd had more than she did in that area.

"And so, if I am to be true to my word on this, you place pressure on me to match your state. Why do you do this, I wonder? It is clear, you know, that it is something that you do, in all truth, care about. More than you care about not making others feel uncomfortable or upsetting them at least, no?" As long as she was portraying the role of her own volition, Pirouette found it simple enough to maintain her composure; she didn't even blush, despite not doing anything to cover herself from the one she was interviewing. There wasn't a great deal to see in any case; the swells of her chest were small and reserved to the point of being easy to miss, and she kept her legs together as she stood against the desk, so her groin revealed only an exceptionally small, thin groove in the pale flesh, which revealed nothing at all, beyond its existence. Otherwise, her body was just as it had been before she'd stripped off the costume; tall, lithe and fair skinned, without blemish. Her wings stood up straighter behind her as she raised an eyebrow at him.

"Tell me, sir... what is going through your mind at this moment, and do be honest, yes?" If he was true to his stance, she wasn't really expecting him to pay any attention to her body at all; it would be interested if he did, all things considered. Even so, she was watching his face... and more subtly, his hands... for his reaction.

GangsaMan's already cross expression became more so as Pirouette informed him that his policy of Nihlism was not flush with the defined tenants of Nihlism. "Ma'am, forgive me for saying so, but these sort of pedantic concerns, rigidly clinging to established definitions, are exactly what I want to avoid. Whatever there is worth doing in this world, it's not arguing with you like this," sounding terribly aggravated. "I'm not hiding anything. That is exactly what I mean. It's my will, living how I choose. Even you now, you can't truly find it worthwhile to stand here and debate me on this. Why are you even here? Is there nothing more worthwhile the two of us could choose to do?" he complained, throwing one hand down in an angry slap at the empty air.

Pirouette went on to explain why she was in the office. He narrowed his eyes and nodded. "I won't stop you, if joining the NetPolice is what you wish to do. But most of those in the NetPolice are hypocrites... PatrolMan is the worst example of human scum there is, but just because others are more discrete does not mean they are worthy of any respect. For every good officer there are another two who watch in silence as evils go unpunished," he grunted, sounding like he had more to say on the topic, but listening to Pirouette instead. "I understand your point, but know that while my views may seem abrasive, they come from my intention to liberate you. If you'd rather not talk about them, you're free to leave, but you seem to have a lot to say. You say you are not defined by that identity that was given you, but here you stand, wearing a ballerina's outfit. Until you have tried shedding yourself of that identity, you should not be so dismissive of my idea of starting fresh to find one's own way."

He remained staunchly naked as Pirouette criticized his motivations for staying so. He shook his head, seeming very frustrated. "Ma'am, I'm keeping myself covered out of respect to you, but I cannot dress. I've disowned the uniform for the hypocrites that wear it! I've disowned the gangsa because it looms over me like an unalterable road-map for my life! To clothe myself at all is to buy into useless social policies," he griped. Done talking, Pirouette cornered his argument by stooping to his level, shedding off the costume that had identified her as a ballerina. He watched, looking like words were caught in the back of his throat the whole time, then blinked and made an effort to continue. "First off... I appreciate what you're doing. There is honor and meaning in it, and I must admit it forces me to re-evaluate my thoughts regarding your argument..."

He held up a hand to continue, pointing two fingers upward. If Pirouette was observant, she might notice that his towel was staying in place over his groin, regardless of both his hands being off of it, and now held a more vulgar shape... "I think I had the wrong opinion of you. But Pirouette... I saw your reaction on the beach. Was that all an act? You feel nothing at being naked like this?" he asked, arching one eyebrow, suddenly remembering himself and grabbing the towel again. "I feel as though you were acting then and acting again now. I find it fascinating. Where is this conviction coming from? To wit: my coming to be in this state of self-examination came after the death of my comrades and my recognition of the bald-faced lack of care that the NetPolice has in bringing the perpetrators to justice. But... you wish to join the NetPolice and you want that... or perhaps something more substantial... so badly that you're willing to bare yourself like this. I know that this does not come easily to anyone, myself included, at least at first. So how...?"

While Pirouette had been expecting some kind of turn about in the man's reaction to her challenge, she was honestly surprised at the way it had drawn him to a much more earnest question. Tactically, she didn't look at the signs that she was having a physical effect on him, though the knowledge of it made her performance calm just that little bit harder to maintain. Still, underneath the hyperbole and only vaguely philosophic rhetoric, there was a seed of something there and she did her best to focus on it.

"I have worn many different costumes in my life, sir. I am a performer after all, you know. For the time being, this is but another one. It is... a role, as it were." She gestured briefly to her complete lack of costume as simply another costume in its own right, letting her hand rest at her hip for a few extra moments at the bottom of the gesture.

"What matters in this, you understand, is that it is my choice to present the faces and masks that I do, and not that they be forced upon me by another. I think you must feel this most keenly, yes? On the beach, I was playing a role, it is true. I was Pirouette, innocent bystander and civilian. I was not prepared at that time, for my body to be exposed to people, or to be man-handled by a brute, at all, and it was distressing... but afterwards, I could take a moment to calm myself and known that it was, all the same, simply a role. This day I have also worn the face of Pirouette, would-be Internal-Affairs officer, and several other faces in between no?" She relaxed a little, watching GangsaMan and thinking, but she could see where he was at, now, and felt like she understood at least a portion of it, no matter how it had come about or where from. Without really thinking consciously about what she was doing, or her state of dress, Pirouette pushed back and hopped up onto the desk behind her, crossing her legs so she could sit on it and pressing her palms together thoughtfully in front of her; in her moment of contemplation, she didn't consider what that would look like or show to the other navi, but even then, there still wasn't all that much to see; the slim, self-contained line at her groin was far more visible, but it still didn't particularly show off any greater details, slightly underdeveloped as she was.

"I think I should like to tell you a story, if you will listen..." she began, her eyes didn't focus on his directly now as she thought, and her wings rose and fell slowly in an extension of her breathing.

"I first opened my eyes about seven years ago now. I was a ballerina, and my purpose was to assist my operator in teaching his classes. I enjoyed my life, and I grew to love Mikhail dearly. It was not for three years that I happened upon the thoughts that led to me questioning my life, my purpose, and my freedom." Mostly unconsciously, she began to go through simple arm stretches and extensions as she spoke, recalling.

"I read many things, and spent much time thinking, and in reflection, you know. Mikhail, he was very supportive. It is, as I understand, not uncommon, in navis like you and I. Some happen upon it quickly, and others slowly, some question their purpose from their first breath, and some never do, unless some great upheaval brings them to it. This is what I learned. We are, in many ways, ever so much more complex than our makers ever know. It took me six more months before I felt sure of myself again."

Pirouette scooted forward off the edge of the desk and stood, then realised how she'd been sitting and had to fervently fight off a blush. to cover it, she took a slow walk along the outside of the room, looking at the shelves and the models as she did, moving ever on the balls of her feet, delicate and light.

"For myself, I determined that I do very much love being the woman that I am, yes? I am a performer, and I wish to be a performer, and if I did not, I would not need to be. Mikhail would not stop me from being the person I wished, just as he has not stopped me from making my application here, to become a member of the Net Police, you know." Her circuit around the room took her quite awkwardly close to GangsaMan at one point, but she was determined not to make a deal of it or deliberately avoid it.

"So, yes... Indeed, sir, I do find talking with you, about matters like this, to be very, very much worth the time. If you are upon this path now, then it is vital that you take the time to find the answers you need, and that you have support in doing so. She stopped when she reached the desk again, this time standing with her back to him, though she continued to speak with enough volume to be heard clearly.

"Aie... At any other time, I would suggest that, while you re seeking answers, continuing to be a representative of the Net Police, with whom you are disillusioned, may not be for the best, for you, but I am not sure now..." unthinking, she reached across the desk to the far side to retrieve her black notebook, unwittingly bending at the hip to do so for a second or two, giving another tantalising few moments sight at things normally kept hidden, before straightening up and turning back to him, quill an book in hand.

"You have gone through these steps of casting off the thing you feel yoke you, and yet, you have steadfastly remained an active member of the net police. I did read your previous record as well, yes... and it seems as though your commitment has always been honest and for the good. Let me tell you why I have taken this mission, and why I am seeking to join. I think perhaps we share a common ground, yes?" She leaned back against the desk now, still standing but with her behind on the edge of the desk while she flipped open her notebook and skimmed through it.

"In the past six months, I have encountered a terrible number of ill deeds and dangerous individuals. Unethical behaviour, unscrupulous acts, crimes and transgressions for which I do not feel any should stand, you know. And yet, whenever I asked other people, what of the Net Police? Where are they? Why are they not fixing this? The answers I would get were laughter and derision. The image of the net police is that of incompetence, and of incapability, in far too many people's eyes. Their name is tarnished, and the public have little faith in their ability to uphold, or protect, at all.

"This, I wish to fix." Her face had grown serious and fixed, and occasionally her eyes flicked back to the file containing PatrolMan's information. "I have applied to Internal Affairs, and it is my intention to begin making changes. We must restore the public image, yes, and we must return the people's faith and confidence in us... but before we can do those things, the source of this rot must be taken care of. If one is not fit to protect and uphold, then one must not be permitted to damage the name and image further. If one seeks only to dominate or bully, then their only proper place in a net police department is in a cell. These things, I wish to fix." She paused, then looked up at him, meeting the other navi's eyes again with a more focused and piercing gaze than she'd turned on him yet.

"I guess, and do correct me if I am mistaken... but I guess, sir, that you would see these changes come to pass as well. I wish for you to have the support and time you need to find out who you are and who you wish to be now... and this is important... but I will not suggest that you step down from the Net Police while you do this, if you do not wish to. Rather I think, if you had given up entirely on the Net Police, then you would have left by now on your own, already. So... Will you help me right its wrongs?"

"If you wish to work with me to do this, and reform the Net Police as it so badly needs, then we must be proper examples as well. You will need to dress yourself in some manner, out of respect for the comfort of those around you... but it should most certainly be in clothing of your own choosing, and not any of the costumes which you have, for now, cast off. I am not averse to designing costumes, if you wish help in finding something you would be comfortable to wear, you know." She tilted her head as she watched him, wings ruffling slightly. There was definitely the core of a good person in there, he was just going through a very difficult time, and it seemed like he had no support, not really. Helping him through it, rather than abject discipline, might number him among her potential allies in future efforts at reform.

GangsaMan wasn't in much of a position to hide anything either, and his eyebrow twitching accompannied a slight movement below as he watched Pirouette sit her naked butt upon the desk behind her. "I see now how you chose to handle your own questions. Truthfully, I thought the average navi would likely accept life as given to them, rather than accepting the difficult journey of self-discovery. If there is a book that will provide me those answers, I will gladly devote as much time as necessary in solitude to read it, but I highly doubt such a thing exists," he complained, keeping one arm at his side and one hand on the towel at his groin. From there, he listened silently, with her describing more of what she'd decided and her recommendations for himself. If she'd managed to watch while her back was turned, she'd notice he failed to avert his eyes even when she bent over, though whether that was because he thought he wasn't being watched or because he, ethically or philosophically, didn't see any issue in it, was impossible to say.

Still, he seemed more overtly interested in her words (or at least more willing to talk about them). "You are absolutely correct. With the resources we have, there is no excuse neglligence in the higher-ups, who refuse to allocate those resources where they're needed or order valuable tasks. We're at war on equal footing with the Mafia now because we let it happen!" he agreed, stoking his own anger even higher. "Through a mix of allowing horrible people into positions where they don't belong, the public distrust that followed that based on their heinous actions, and then the acceptance of the GNA's ridiculous terms of mediation, we let people come to see us as a lifestyle choice, and a poor one at that! All these factors together... It's just as you say!" he growled, now pressing his hands onto the portion of the desk just next to her and leaning forward himself, glaring at Bayonet's office chair. The towel stayed covering his front, but only just, as some part of his abdomen or lower body connected with the desk's front face.

He then met her eyes, turning his head sideways to look at her. "Yes... Yes! Whatever it takes, Pirouette. I want you and Internal Affairs, whoever you trust, to use me as you see fit, Pirouette," he insisted. "If that means following their rules or dressing myself however, so be it. I just want an end to this stagnation, to this fallacy that 'we're doing all we can!' Perhaps you were the answer I was looking for all along... change from within! Working together on two fronts, we can end the complacency, shape up each Department, and in the end, with a strong, functional force, we'll drive those Mafia back into the underground where they belong!" It sounded like maybe he'd gotten a little ahead of himself with the planning somewhere along the line, but the basic agreement was there.

Now excited, he turned, smiling genuinely for the first time. "We'll need officers from every department to assist us! People of action who can make a real difference. You're getting in good with Bayonet now... that's fantastic. Keep that up and you'll have a lot of pull. I can work on the fronts of both Public Safety and Justice, I have allies in both... and from there, we need support in Investigations and Prosecutions, even Tech. I'll do whatever I can to help, just name it," he insisted. Perhaps just as pressingly, he'd forgotten his towel now, and his excitement was evident in more than his voice... also, quite physically close to Pirouette now. At this rate, Pirouette might be considering taking him down as a NetPolice officer displaying unbecoming behavior, rather than relying on him to support her efforts... She might want to start by insisting he put the new outfit on before he left the office.