[font "Times" The way that Florence drew the plush of her lip into her teeth pulled a smile onto her lips, eyes drawing over the other woman's face. The Lieutenant wasn't going to lie, she was a hugely attractive individual. Satisfaction colored her features for a moment before she relaxed that feeling out of them before Florence could take offense to it. It seemed the possibility of the sexual nature of her words did not fall on deaf ears, unless simply the power she expressed had turned the other on. Either way, Gweniviere was pleased.
A grin touched the corners of her mouth, hiding the hesitant pang that those words provided for her. "[B I'm just waiting to be corrupted,]" she said, keeping that intimate tone, voice register low and rough, "[B I've spent too long doing the right thing.]" her tone became bitter for a moment, dropping as a hardness touched her features, she gave a single syllable of scornful laughter. "[B I'm too tarnished to be a white knight anyways.]"
The woman's eyes snapped up to Florence's, holding them in a sudden and direct passion, "[B I'd rather be powerful and corrupted than where I am now or have been. There has to be some payoff to corrupting myself to serve others. I can't get worse.]"
She paused a moment, considering that question, fingers stilled on the metal cuff on her ear. A moment passed and she responded."[B The price is a life.]" she said finally, "[B If you know me, then you have a piece of my life in your hands. If I know you, in turn, then I have a bit of yours, whatever that ends up being. An agent, at least in my skillset, deals in lives this way. Information, weapons, [i fear]. Memories. If I have anything, then I have them. A piece of them, or a whole, depending on the trail. An agent endeavors to know others, but no other knows them. We deal in lives. Pieces and wholes. We end them, we even pave the way to create them. So I say they are exchanged thus. To know someone is to possess them, in a way,]" at the last, she decided to soften what turned into a rather fatalistic statement. But if Florence was still trying to get a hold of her, Gweniviere would respond by offering her defenses. She gave a mild smile, letting her eyes narrow slightly. "[B at least professionally.]" She tilted her head a little, "[B And what do you consider the price for knowing someone?]"
Florence was being very truthful to her, Gweniviere noticed. She tilted her head slightly, studying this. Could it be a genuine attempt at getting to know her partner? An attempt to give a little to receive? But at the end of her statement, she caught herself; this could easily be a ploy. A string of words, created within a moment to fill space with even more emptiness under the guise of verity. But Gweniviere listened, even while she dropped her iota of salt into the pool of the other agent's words. "[B Everyone loses something. And some are prevented from losing, which often is worse. A conscience is a hard thing to lose, and sometimes it makes itself known by preventing you from looking at someone else whose is untouched.]" she said, referencing Florence's mention just now, "[B A partner, someone you are deceiving, whatever the case may be.]" Her eyes lingered on Florence a moment, "[B Or perhaps we don't lose it. It just gets twisted. There was a Freudian concept that kind of mentioned something similar...]"
Gweniviere offered a smile of commiseration. She was trying, "[B You're right.]" she said, rising as Florence did, smoothing the front of her pants as she did so, "[B But alluding to our conversation earlier, then I would be trading a part of myself. I'm not prepared to delve with you just now.]" her eyes fell half-lidded, her smile becoming somewhat darker, "[B But I appreciate the interest. There are few who would want to speak to a war relic with such interest.]" It did ache that she could not, would not, open. But Florence, for all of her easily alterable character, was yet a stranger to her. Strangers can be one of two things, simply people, or dangers in hiding. Considering that Florence was involved with a group that she didn't know about, that was a negative. Gweniviere was too old to be trusting, too scarred. Certainly it was unavoidable to Florence to notice. "[B The last time I spoke, I was not heard. Another I was heard too well.]" she tilted her chin up, stretching the spread of scars across her throat in a bit of an exemplifying motion. "[B Perhaps another time.]"
"[B Of course,]" the Lieutenant said, her voice shifting back to her conversive propriety, glancing at her cellular as she picked it up off of the table to glance at the time, scooping the car keys up with another long-fingered hand. "[B this turned out to be a longer day than expected.]" she looked back at Florence again, slipping these things into her pockets. "[B It's draining, I know.]" Gweniviere felt like softening slightly, nodding to the young woman as they turned to leave, as she had come to terms with the other's disposition, her anxiety. It was something to be aware of now.
"[B Better living arrangements,]" the German woman repeated, giving Florence an inquisitive arch of her brow. "[B what's wrong with yours now?]"