Pubs. Interesting places, full of people, noise, and booze. In other words: places that made Agent Desdendelle sigh, cover his ears, and head toward the nearest exit. Usually. But this day (inasmuch it was a day; the axe-wielding Agent found it hard to tell, in HQ) was special. After all, meeting a bit one had rescued from a terrible badfic, when said bit was supposed to join one on one's next mission, wasn't something that happened every day, was it now?
So Des was sitting in the corner of Rudi's Pub, sipping Japanese plum liqueur from a small porcelain cup and watching the person who sat across the table.
That person was tall, dark-haired, and bulky. He wore simple, utilitarian clothes, and looked like you could lose him in a crowd in no time – in short, he looked Generic. What set him apart from the rest of the pub's occupants – as well as from the majority of the Agents in HQ – was the long, black, glaive-like Device that stood leaning on the wall within his reach.
“So, Captain,” Des said, “I understand you specialise in portal magic.”
“Yes, sir,” the bit answered. “I do not have many memories of actually using my skills for combat, but my instructors told me that I have great potential.”
“Navare, please,” the boy across the table from the Nanoha-verse mage said exasperatedly, “stop calling me sir. It's embarrassing.”
Then someone threw a pillow in their general direction. Acting on instinct, Des slashed the pillow in half with his axe, then immediately started to sneeze.
“Bless you,” said Navare and turned. Right in time to get a pillow straight to the face. The mage rocked back for a moment, picked it up, and launched it back toward the person who threw it, putting a little too much force behind the throw.