Chapter Text
The time is 1342, Midnight is standing in the middle of the break room, a stack of papers under one arm and hands raised as if to clap. As if, y’know, he wants everyone’s attention.
Oh no, Catapult thinks. And then realises she’s the only one in the room actually making eye contact with him.
Ohhhh nooooo.
“Ladies and gentleman.”
(Spot doesn’t look up. Probably he doesn’t really like called a gentleman, but also, it’s Midnight speaking.)
“I feel I have found a proposition even Kal’tsit herself cannot refuse.”
“You’re never getting her into bed, so don’t even try,” Orchid murmurs, deeply uninterested in looking up from this month’s copy of Egoism Fair Lungmen. Harsh, but, uh, fair.
“No, no! Not like that. Goodness, Orchid, even as a joke, you shouldn’t mistake me for a man as driven by his libido as that…” He wipes away a little crocodile tear, and Catapult shoots a glance to her side; thankfully, Popukar isn’t even paying attention. Too busy staring deeply at the pearls in her boba. “I mean more to curry her favour! A6 may get results in the field, but I feel we’re always being sidelined compared to our colleagues, for… reasons.”
“You,” murmurs Spot, and Midnight seems to miss that. Guess those big old Sarkaz ears are for show?
“A problem shared is a problem… fifthed. Divided by five? Lessened! Look, don’t you think it’d be nice if we got brought up during the Operator Of The Month townhalls slightly more often?”
“Dude, I get it. You’re annoyed that some teenage horse girl gets Dobermann patting her head and not you,” Catapult asserts. And, to be fair, that’s the instructor’s loss, because Midnight’s hair is nice to tousle around. Smells good, very soft, and he makes seriously cute faces when you start pulling on it.
“You mean Fang? She’s twenty-three.” Huh. It’d be creepy if it was anyone except Orchid saying that, but considering Orchid spends more time in her air-conditioned HR office talking to young women with inferiority complexes than actually doing Operator Work™️, it’s fine.
…wait, is Fang older than me?
“We’re getting out of hand here, team. Now, if you’ll let me continue…” Midnight shakes that beautiful, beautiful mop of his around, and grabs a paper from under his arm. He looks like the proudest little puppy in the world. “None of us are the most competent on the field itself, but we all understand the heart, I like to think.” Everyone in the room (except Popukar. Man, that boba is doing a lot for her!) seems kind of offended at this for their own reasons, but maybe that’s the beauty of Midnight. He really does bring ‘em all together! “And so, I propose we show Rhodes Island why being in ‘reserve’ might be the best place to put us!”
--the piece of paper he holds up does, at the very least, have a nice amount of graphic design put into it. Wow, does Midnight have actual talents?
“…Club Midnight?”
“We’ll ask to clear out that dormitory everyone hates – you know, the one with all the cardboard boxes? And use it as a host club! A one-night-only affair, to start, but if we’re successful…”
“I’m sure all ten heterosexual women on site are gonna deeply appreciate that.”
“We can target the bisexual clientele too, you know… the bientele.”
Everyone summarily ignores that one.
“Okay, imagining Kal’tsit actually approves this—”
“We don’t have to go through her, you know! Not to launch the club! We just need HR and the admin staff to agree…” Midnight looks towards Orchid, and Catapult swears that if he let that stubby little tail of his out of his tight pants, it’d be waggling right now.
“Wonderful. I’m sure Earthspirit’ll be keen to discuss.” Orchid doesn’t lift her head.
“Look, assuming we get this approved, you’re gonna need hot guys, right? Where are you gonna find them? I don’t think we’ll be allowed to, uh, import hosts? …shit, that sounds pretty Kazimierz.” Spot actually looks up from his manga, looks Midnight in the eye, and suddenly has the fear of fucking god put into him. “I’m not fucking taking part in this, man.”
“Well! Hm. Uhm. We have Matterhorn, and Courier’s rather handsome.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s sexy. Love to pay to see men talk about how they wish Silverash was here,” Spot hisses, before nope-ing out of the conversation again and returning to his manga. Honestly, it’s probably not as fun reading dudes slaying devils as it just watching this trainwreck happen, but…
“Nah, Courier’s game’s better than that.” …the words leave her mouth, she pre-emptively winces, and everyone’s eyes are suddenly on Catapult. Right, this is why co-signing any man on Rhodes is a pain, because when there’s only like six of them worth talking to, apparently it means something if you put your hand on one of their thighs once. “Look, he bought me a drink and we had a nice talk?” Even Popukar’s staring. That hurts. “Wooow, sorry for being one tenth of the potential audience of Midnight’s idea.”
“Wait, Catapult, can I count on your patronage if we were to actually—”
“No.”
Midnight hangs his head, which is cool, because it means it’s one less person in the room staring at her. Fuck off, Orchid. Like you’ve never let a guy buy you a drink because it’s free booze and he doesn’t seem like he’ll get weird if you peace after the second one.
“Um… actually, does it have to be men—"
“Wait, aren’t there those girls who’re crazy horny for Twelve?” Spot talks right over Popukar, and Popukar’s lip wobbles. Serves the girl fucking right for staring at her earlier!
“No matter how sad and lizard-y he is, you can’t run a club off one guy,” Catapult points out.
“Actually, well, I may have some experience with that…” Oh, no, she does not like the way Midnight’s smiling there.
“Y-you could probably run it off someone like Ms Texas!!” This time Popukar yells, and…
“…huh. Yeah.”
“You know, Miss Popukar, I see what you mean.”
“Jeez, Poppy. Didn’t know you were a Lupo chaser.”
A thoughtful silence descends over the team – god, the amount of random base staff who’ve been semi-turned by the visitors from Penguin alone could equal serious money, huh? – and it takes Orchid, of all people, to spur her team into action. “Let’s review how S/S 1097 is shaping up. Maison Marucela has amazed the scene in Vouivre by launching a catwalk collection consisting entirely of flowing hemlines and low cuts for men, and more importantly, airy pantsuits with an emphasis on ‘anti-slimming’ forms for women. Londonium Fashion Week is approaching, and an emphasis on androgyny and queering of traditional cultural values is expected due to early teasers dropped by Marlberry on their ‘gram, not to mention the resurgence of the Candem Market punk scene in the last two years.”
“Oh, yeah. Absolutely. Thanks for the revision session. Who amongst us has not spent half their paycheck on a Vucci belt—”
Spot is silenced with one long, graceful finger from Orchid, who’s actually smiling. Seeing her look… approvingly at Midnight (well, mostly Popukar, but a little at Midnight) is kinda freaky.
“Shh. The point here, is that women in suits sell.”