"Going up?" You give her a friendly smile as you step aside. You might as well be polite; there's no reason for her to dislike you.
Unfortunately, it doesn't look like she needs a reason to be in a bad mood either. She steps inside decisively enough that you back up against the wall.
The doors slide shut behind her.
"What's the civilian doing here?" You could swear that the temperature in the elevator drops two degrees.
"You know who he is, don't be rude. He is here to see Ortega." Herald sounds defensive; maybe he didn't have permission to bring you here. Interesting.
"We have a lobby for waiting." She gives him a stern look.
"Don't be such a…" Herald breaks off before he says something he regrets. "Look, I get why you're angry with me, but Garrett Helton has nothing to do with this."
"It's fine," you say, not wanting to cause a scene in an enclosed area. That's a nightmare scenario if you've ever seen one, fighting Lady Argent without your armor in an elevator. "I can understand if she doesn't trust me."
"Hmph," she snorts, not turning to look at you. Looks like you hit a sore point. Good to know. "Don't flatter yourself."
"I rarely do." You don't flinch as she glares at you. She looks so different without the helmet filtering your senses.
"That's commendable." There is a long pause as she holds your gaze, neither of you turning away. Does she even need to blink? You're not sure you can win this stare down, but luckily you don't have to. There's a soft ping as the doors open up behind her, and she turns to leave. Whether this is her floor or she's exiting the awkward conversation, you're not sure.
You have an opportunity to head after Lady Argent, or you can remain in the elevator with Herald, continuing to your destination.
You haven't spent much time with the Rangers, but it seems that every time you do, Lady Argent is glaring daggers at you. It's too risky to have someone care enough about you to dislike you. This might be a chance to change that.
"Hold the elevator," you tell Herald as you follow Lady Argent, not bothering to wait for a reply. You already know he won't stop you.
"Maybe you…" His voice peters out as you walk away, his advice unheard but not unfelt. Be careful. That's what you can feel from him; he's worried about you.
But not worried enough to stop you.
Not That He Could
"Hey!" You raise your voice as you follow, lengthening your step to catch up with her.
"What?" To your surprise, she turns around, taking a step toward you, too close, too fast.
As she steps close, you hold your ground. She's much shorter than you, but she certainly doesn't feel it. Her presence is downright intimidating as you stare into her mirrored face.
Is the threat physical or mental? Maybe both.
Maybe it's the bleedover from your fights; you're aware of how dangerous she can be. There's a solidity to her that unnerves you, something about her skin that makes you hesitant to get close without your armor to protect you. Have you ever touched her?
No. Not skin to skin. You rarely touch people in the first place, and she's less approachable than most. You never even shook her hand.
"I could have you thrown out, you know." She breaks the silence first but doesn't back up. Nor does she look away. Is she standing on her tiptoes, or did her feet just grow heels?
"That's not hard to do," you say, holding her gaze, your reflection in her skin twisted but unafraid. "But the smart thing would be to hear me out."
"Fine." Her smile is hardly visible, but her stance relaxes. "What do you want?"
Why are you giving Herald a hard time?" You don't look back over your shoulder, and your words are quiet enough not to be overheard. There's really no reason why the way she acts toward him should bother you, but somehow it does. On levels you are not quite ready to deal with yet.
"Why do you care?" She's relaxed now as if she's taken your measure and found you wanting. You're not sure how you feel about that.
Who says I do? Maybe I'm just curious." You decide against a smirk; that would be overdoing it.
"Then go read the gossip magazines like everybody else." Lady Argent gives you a look filled with enough disgust that the smirk comes out anyway.
"I'm not interested in what they have been paid to say." You know the drill; the media team can be surprisingly effective.
"What are you digging at?" She taps her nails on her hips as if she's considering what to do about you.
"Maybe I just want to see how dysfunctional this team really is compared to the old one?"
"What would you know? You were never a part of the team." She tosses the truth in your face as if she's expecting it to hurt. She can't do worse than what you've already done to yourself.