Chapter Text
Exusiai found her way into Penguin Logistics in a very fitting manner — that is to say, she stumbled into it through quite unusual circumstances.
Exploring the new city shortly after her arrival from Laterano, armed with enough L.M.D. to get her bearings, she'd somehow gotten caught up in a scuffle between mobsters. Lemuen had mentioned some parts of Lungmen were like this, but Exusiai hadn't expected to find herself there so quickly.
Nevertheless, she had her gun — warily, she'd fired into the air, a safe distance away, which scattered the thugs.
The road had thankfully cleared, and then a car sidled up to her, its window rolled down.
She hadn't expected to see a large, garishly dressed penguin at the driver's seat.
His accent when he started talking was even more of a surprise. "Must've been some greenhorns," he said, gesturing with his flippers, "they're usually bolder even when a gun's involved." Exusiai remembers wondering what the point of the sunglasses were at this time of night — he fixed her with what must have been a smile. "But thanks for that, stranger. Forgot my Lil' Homie when I left the house."
She had no idea what he was referring to, but still she managed to say: "It, ah, was no problem!"
"Don't see many Sanktas in Lungmen," he'd continued then. "You come here only recently?"
At her obligatory nod, he reached into the depths of the car, seemingly looking for something. "You think fast," he said, muffled, "and that's a slick piece — I know this sounds sudden as hell, but you might be interested in joining my logistics company. You ever heard of —" He paused. "Aw, shit, forgot you were new, never mind."
The penguin eventually resurfaced and passed her a crumpled flyer. "Here. We're hiring. The four-one-one is all there. Ciao!"
With that, he'd sped off, leaving a mildly bewildered angel in his wake.
Of course, on an impulse that would be considered quite reckless to anyone else, Exusiai had decided to join. It was something new, and new suited her. The role would let her traverse all the corners of the city and maybe even bring her closer to the answers she sought in Lungmen — though, as Lemuen told her in a reply to her letter, it might be years before she ever tracked Mostima down. But she'd approved, so that was all the encouragement Exusiai needed. The added benefit of having in-situ housing where they'd perform their operations didn't hurt either.
In the interview she'd done her best to seriously explain herself, her origins, her motivation for joining. The penguin — Emperor, as he so referred to himself, and as his rap album covers were plastered with (they were apparently strangely popular in Laterano) — had simply waved her in.
Why they had taken her and not any of the other applicants is still beyond Exusiai. Unless the reason was that there were no other applicants, which, looking at how out of place Emperor was in the backdrop of Yan's autonomous state, Exusiai could see happening too.
And now — against all odds — here she is, first day on the job.
An unofficial day, on a weekend, but it counts as an orientation nonetheless. Emperor leads her into the safehouse of the month, past several towering stacks of unsorted boxes, trolleys, maps and posters, to a meeting room. Peering into it through a window punched in one of the walls, he introduces her newfound co-workers. The three don't seem to notice them.
Eventually, Exusiai will come to know their names and mannerisms by heart.
"A small team is easier to keep track of," Emperor says. Exusiai watches the trio pore over paperwork, squabbling a bit about an inaudible issue. They're apparently on a break from the deliveries — but there's always something else to do. She's tempted to press her ear to the glass. The penguin continues: "I haven't had them work together for long, but I've long realized these girls are already hard enough to rein in as it is."
Exusiai feels compelled to mention, cautiously: "I'm not going to be a pushover either, sir."
Emperor rubs his chin (or what can be made out of it), silent — with his eyes hidden behind thick shades still, Exusiai reassures herself with the fact that Lungmen is so diverse, surely there must be job openings elsewhere.
But the penguin only says, eventually: "Yeah, well, just don't call me 'sir', will you? Makes me feel like one of those uppity dickheads."
Exusiai looks again at the gold chain pressing into his feathers, the frankly ridiculous fedora precariously balancing on his head. She stifles a laugh: "You got it… Boss."
*
From what she can see, the group get along and manage things well for essentially still being new to this; just a month or two of operation, if Exusiai heard correctly.
Her three co-workers are one Forte, two Lupos — though Exusiai has reason to doubt one of the latter, she's not going to probe, at least not yet. Croissant's the business-minded one, easygoing, enthusiastic, someone Exusiai can see herself going out for drinks with. Sora's a newly-debuted pop idol, which is honestly super cool in Exusiai's eyes, despite the fact she did hear about the complications Emperor had in wrangling a negotiation with the agency. And the last one, Texas, who Sora seems to look up to, or just really wants to please — is the other two's check and balance. Level-headed and quietly assertive. Tough nut to crack, Exusiai thinks, but workable.
Plus Exusiai herself, that makes four. The horsemen of the apocalypse of groundbreaking courier services — Penguin Logistics.
It doesn't sound so bad at all.
"Do you guys like working here?" Exusiai asks them, as they're taking a break from… whatever they're doing. The angel has been drifting between tasks in a mildly confused haze — she's getting the hang of it, but only kind of, because Penguin Logistics seems to just do what they want at any given moment. The whiteboard hanging as the centerpiece of the room is covered in route plans and notes she suspects they will have to untangle again the next day.
She hops onto the armrest of the couch they're sharing — Croissant lounging on the further side, Texas on the closer, with Sora awkwardly in between. "Be honest."
"It's 'aight," says Croissant, giving a nonchalant shrug. "Brings in good money when the customers're happy, and it's a buncha fun sometimes gallivanting around."
Sora nods along. "It's nice to see the smile on your clients' faces, even if it is just a delivery." She glances to her side. "Right, Texas?"
"...Yeah." The wolf scarcely looks up from the document she's reading — with her other hand, she takes a bite of what appears to be a chocolate covered stick.
…Some sudden silences, Exusiai can't fix.
Nevertheless, she's sure they'll grow closer together over time — Laterano's largest statue wasn't blown up in a day.
*
"So… what kind of name is 'Texas', anyway?"
Exusiai makes another attempt at conversation with the wolf just as they're packing up for the night. Behind them, there's the sound of blinds being pulled closed, the rattle of cabinets being wheeled about.
Texas side-eyes her, looking a little caught off-guard, before the spell ends and she continues to sort the documents in her hands. "...It's just a family name."
She doesn't ask about whatever 'Exusiai' is supposed to mean, or why it doesn't sound the way it's spelt. Nor does she bring up how 'Croissant' is an equally out-of-place name with even less meaning. In fact, she doesn't seem much interested in conversation at all.
It wouldn't be right to say Texas acted cold, exactly — she was just quiet, curt to an extent, keeping in mind a distance she constructed between herself and the others. But by now Exusiai has already seen how she tries to assist with everything she can, the dedication she has toward making sure everything goes as smoothly as possible. Sora and Croissant aren't the leaders here; Texas exudes a certain responsibility and gravitas.
They work together quietly for a while, a silence that isn't exactly awkward, but one that has Exusiai wondering if she'd asked the wrong question.
Surprisingly, Texas is the one to speak up this time: "You're going to be staying with us, aren't you? Where's all your stuff?"
"Oh," says Exusiai, "Still downstairs —"
"Put these into that last file," Texas says, handing her the now re-organized stack of order forms and invoices. "I'll be right back."
Exusiai watches her leave, unsure if she should run to help. Just as promised though, the wolf reappears at the door only a few minutes later, with the angel's luggage in tow. She says nothing of the inconvenience.
"They'll close up shop," she says, gesturing with her head to the two other colleagues of theirs further inside the room. Croissant calls: "Fine, Tex, but yer doing it next time!"
"Sure," Texas calls back, then turns to Exusiai again. "...Come with me."
A quick nod is all Exusiai can manage, still reeling from the sheer amount of words and initiative that have come out from the wolf's mouth. Maybe it's true, that Texas really isn't that quiet after all — she just finds it hard to converse when there's nothing to say.
Exusiai follows her up the stairwell. The upper floor of the safehouse is surprisingly big, enough space for the four of their rooms and more to spare. It's well maintained, too — sure, it looks a little clinical, like a steel industrial complex, but she can see decorations starting to creep up the walls, rough-draft logos, pinboards with rosters.
"Hey, how rich do you think the Boss is?"
Texas glances at her. Her eyes, Exusiai notices, are the colour of sunset.
"Rich enough," she says, almost like a witty remark, but her tone is completely matter-of-fact. "I'm not about to question how or why."
Exusiai wonders, then, suddenly, why Texas is here — she doesn't seem like the type to be a courier, least of all for money. Too much weight to her movements; too many minute deliberations.
Which is quite the assumption to make, but Exusiai has always trusted her intuition.
They stop next to an unmarked door, and Exusiai understands this is how she will be living for the foreseeable future.
"Work starts early tomorrow," the wolf says, startling the angel out of her thoughts. "Check your phone for updates."
She parks Exusiai's things adjacent the wall, and turns to walk away, but hesitates — then, after a pause, she ends off: "Night."
"Night," Exusiai chirps in reply, using that politely cheery tone of hers. "And — thanks!"
Texas does not look back.
There's more to that Lupo than meets the eye.