Her hand dipped into the inner pocket of her jacket, pulling out a slim leather wallet. She flipped it open with practiced nonchalance, revealing a badge that gleamed just enough to catch the light, accompanied by a laminated ID card. The details were impeccable, the holograms faintly shimmering as Mioura leaned in to examine them. The fake badge was indistinguishable from the real thing—another necessary tool in Dragnelle's meticulously crafted deception.
Mioura held the ID for a beat longer than necessary, her eyes scanning every detail. "Looks official," she said at last, though her voice held an undercurrent of doubt. "Still, I wasn't informed the NSI was taking an interest in this."
Dragnelle shrugged lightly, slipping the ID back into her pocket once Mioura returned it. "That's because I'm trying to be discreet," she said, her voice low, almost conspiratorial. "Out of respect for your family, of course. But if you'd rather, I could head back and bring a couple more agents. Make it a whole production."
Dragnelle stepped closer, her long skirt—deep emerald with intricate gold embroidery along the hem—fluttering lightly in the wind, its movement graceful despite the rough terrain. She tilted her head slightly, her expression calm yet unyielding.
"We could search your house," Dragnelle began casually,
her tone almost too light. "Your car. Whatever it takes."
Mioura cut her off, her voice sharp as a blade, her body leaning forward ever so slightly. "My mother is not to be disturbed," she said firmly, the weight of her words leaving no room for misinterpretation. Her dark eyes burned with a mix of warning and pride, the kind of gaze that had stopped lesser people in their tracks.
Dragnelle, however, didn't flinch. If anything, her smile widened ever so slightly, though it remained polite. "All right," she said smoothly, her cane tapping once against the ground as if punctuating her agreement. "So let me buy you a coffee."