A Rogue in Lady's Clothing

It hadn't been her intention to stay away this long. In truth, Amelia had intended to see Viatorus again right after Christmas, to thank him for his gift and make sure he wasn't in trouble for accepting hers. But after being cursed and then putting Steve through hell as she came down from it, she needed a few days to herself. Now, however, she feels fine. Now she wants to make good on her plans to see her friend again.

As she makes her way toward Viatorus' office, she realizes that, by postponing her plans, she's forgotten to make an appointment. Again. Normally, she'd consider pushing her way in as she did last time. Given her desire to not cause a scene, though, other measures need to be taken. Time for Amelia to exercise some of her more... questionable talents. It's early enough in the day to pencil in a late afternoon appointment, right?

When the office comes into view, so does Lyall. Amelia waits in the shadows of a nearby alley until the guard is distracted by some passerby before walking up and palming his scheduling notebook from a pouch on his belt. Once she has that, it's a simple matter of passably forging an appointment for herself in his handwriting and returning the notebook to his pouch when she's done - all in the span of about 60 seconds. That part of her plan complete, she heads off to a nearby cafe for a light snack and some tea to fill the time before her "scheduled" appointment.

About five minutes before said appointment, Amelia appears at the door to the office. Lyall doesn't exactly scowl at her, but his displeasure at seeing her is obvious, even if her lack of armor over her usual linen clothing and corset puts him a bit more at ease with her today. The rogue is completely undaunted as she steps up to him with a bright smile on her face. "I'm here to see Viatorus," she says in an equally bright tone. "But no need to worry today, friend, I have an appointment this time."

Lyall crosses his arms in front of his chest and rolls his eyes at her. "You most certainly do not." His voice rumbles from deep within his chest, and would likely scare off most people. Sadly for him, Amelia is not most people.

"Please check your appointment ledger - I have an appointment with Viatorus this afternoon." There's a certain smugness in her eyes that doesn't match her cheery tone of voice, but she can't quite help it on this one.

Begrudgingly, Lyall grabs his appointment book and opens it, his eyes widening when he sees an appointment listed for the current hour. When did that get there? He's certain he didn't put that in, but... there it is, in his handwriting and everything. He looks up at her with a look that is equally surprised and upset. "Amelia Ronsam, I presume?"

How she manages to keep smiling when she wants to be grinning is anyone's guess. "Yes. I'm not too early, am I? I can wait out here if necessary." It's a good thing Lyall works for Viatorus, or she might be getting her friend in some serious trouble right now.

Two months is a long time to be away from the people you love and care about most in the world. Being stuck in a multiverse with no way to get back to them is even worse. For Amelia, it's become a daily fact of life - one she wakes up every day wishing wasn't true.

Even with her progress moving forward in therapy and the rather strict schedule she keeps to, she manages to find time every day to sit in her yew tree and think. Sure, some of it is for purposes of therapy, but most of it is for herself. She has no delusions about this selfish act: she misses home and seeing her family every day, which is why she takes the time to wonder about how things are going back home.

It's during one of these day dreaming sessions that an unusual thought crosses her mind, one that requires her immediate attention. After discarding most of her weapons, chest armor, and chaps, she hurries off into the Commercial District. The walk is a familiar one, and it doesn't take long until she's face to face with a room in a swanky, 1920's Brooklyn-style hotel labeled "221." She knocks carefully, hoping she's not disturbing the occupant on the other side.

"Steve? It's Amelia. Can I... can I come in?"

This meeting has been a long time coming, due in large part to Amelia's putting it off for personal reasons. But with Verity's world officially gone, she finds she no longer has an excuse to put it off. Everything in the warehouse has been organized and cataloged to the best of her abilities and the few items she is was going to give to others have been stashed away so as not to cause any confusion. All that's left is to bring Schön to the warehouse and show him the loot.

Her knock on his office door is confident, but that's the only thing about her that doesn't seem on edge. Her full set of weapons rest on her hips and, despite the warmth, she's covered herself in her cloak. It's all she can do to feel less noticed by the world.

The morning after that shot from Samus had Amelia feeling a bit like hell. Breakfast helped, but the nap for the next several hours after helped more. It's surprising, the wonders a good rest will do for the body. No wonder Amelia always feels a little like hell these days.

It's a little after midday when Amelia finally gets herself fully ready for going out. Not for the Nexus, though, for the streets of New York City. No, today is a jeans, long sleeve navy colored shirt, and boots kind of day. Her hair pin is carefully locked away in a small box that she hides beneath the floorboards under her bed and the key tied to a high branch in the yew tree outside of her window. A paranoid gesture, perhaps, but it makes her feel a little better.

If breakfast and a nap helped her this much through the after effects of the inoculation, she feels like a snack on her way to Verity's world will be more than enough to help get her through the day. There's almost a spring in her step as she saunters down the stairs and out onto the streets of the Commercial District on her way toward the Stellar Harp. She figures she can pick up some coffee and pastries for Samus and Verity along the way - and eat or drink whatever ends up not being claimed by the person it was meant for.