Chapter Text
Act lll: The doll and the muse
Scene 7:
The stroll from the Guillotin gates to the Lutetia Cafe was perhaps the most analyzed walk in the history of the Institute. Sandrone had managed to scrub the oil from her face, but she was back in her comfort zone—a high-collared Snezhnayan coat and a pair of sturdy boots. Beside her, Furina was a whirlwind of navy blue silk and nervous energy, her heterochromatic eyes flitting toward every student who dared to whisper.
"You're walking at a pace of 1.2 meters per second, Furina," Sandrone noted, her voice flat but her ears a tell-tale Snezhnayan red. "Data suggests you are either highly anxious or trying to outrun a perceived threat."
"I am establishing a presence!" Furina squeaked, clutching her parasol so hard her knuckles were white. "A lead actress must always maintain a brisk, unattainable tempo!"
They reached the cafe—a sun-drenched terrace overlooking the fountain—and sat at a small marble table. Navia was visible three blocks away, "discreetly" watching through binoculars, while Dahlia was perched at the next table over, buried behind a newspaper with eye-holes cut out.
"So," Furina began, her voice dropping into a rare, non-theatrical register as she stared at the menu. "No blueprints today. No hydraulic lifts. Just... crepes. And direct input."
Sandrone adjusted her glasses, looking at Furina across the table. Without the grease smudges and the roar of the gym, the "Director" looked smaller, more human. "I've analyzed the 'direct input' theory from Xiao and Venti. They suggested that mechanical logic is insufficient for... interpersonal connectivity."
"They're right," Furina whispered, finally looking up. "Sandrone, I don't just like your engineering. I like the way you look at a problem until it gives up. I like the way you stayed behind to build a heart for me when you could have been in Inazuma with the 'Golden Couple.' I think... I think I’m quite fond of the variable you’ve become."
The silence that followed was broken only by the distant click of Navia’s camera. Sandrone didn't pull away. She reached across the table, her fingers—calloused and steady—brushing against Furina’s gloved hand.
"The probability of this working was statistically low," Sandrone murmured, a small, genuine smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "But the 'theatrical resonance' is... significant. I believe I am fond of the Muse as well."
Furina’s face lit up with a spark that outshone any stage light. "Then it's a date! Officially! No more stealing glances in the wings!"
"Agreed," Sandrone nodded, her gaze softening. "But if Dahlia puts this on the front page tomorrow, I am recalibrating his locker to lock every time he tries to type."