Tired is a lifestyle {open to the briggs team}

He had finally caught up on the intelligence around the place, all of it including battle strategies and previous weaknesses that were corrected. At the moment he was wearing his normal white suit attire, no gloves of course because of his need to use the wind if he had to. He had a holster for his pistol strapped to his left leg now to keep it more obvious to everyone he was always armed. The intelligence team already respected him, and feared him a slight bit considering his record and personality. He wasn't completely on their side, which made them a bit scared that he was in a fairly high position.

He was alone in this place, completely alone. The way his life was and in his head be forever, no one on his side and no one to back him up if he got in trouble. One day he'd die on a job, it was fate that he probably was ordained. He clasped his hands behind his back as he walked down the corridor, he was done with the day and wasn't tired enough to go sleep so he figured he'd wander around to memorize the layout of the place first-hand.

He stopped for a moment to look out a reinforced window that could double as a snipers nest if they were attacked from behind. He stared out there for awhile, lost in his thoughts. His body was however unconciously watching out for him. Like when you slept you'd wake up if something got too close or made a sound in the background.

Murazar heard a tapping sound just down the hall to his right, in a split second without thinking he was dropped into a crouch with his .45 pistol out in his hand and the barrel leaning over his front knee to steady it. He had instantly aimed without thinking at the girl just down the hall. He blinked before pausing to allow her to register in his head, he decided that she wasn't a enemy or at least one that was going to attack now. He stood back up and holstered the pistol inside his jacket before speaking out loud to her. He paused with his mouth open, before he realized she was blind. The stick was to make a sound wave for her to hear.

He came to that conclusion because of the way she walked, was dressed, the sunglasses, and the cane. All of it by itself seperately was just a signal, all of it together was obvious. He spoke calm, distant, and politely. " Ma'am, you should be more careful. I could have killed you. Please dont surprise me in the future like that." He had yet to know why she was at briggs, she had to have been a alchemist. That was more likely than anything else. Especially the way she carried herself, it was just a tad bit obvious to his eyes.

Murazar heard the subtle tone behind the politeness, good she was similar to him. At least in handling situations, he nodded and leaned against the wall speaking softly. A small gush of wind whistled down the hallway blowing his light dress jacket around before it stopped. He really wasn't dressed for winter at all, it almost seemed as if he couldn't feel the cold. Of course he could, it just wasnt worth taking notice of until his hands started shaking. Then he had to find heat or else he might get frost bite.

He bowed politely and before straightening replied to her, he wasn't exactly being deferrential just nice and pleasant for the moment. " Of course ma'am, although I would like to know your name at least." He crossed the few yards inbetween them and held out his hand for a hand shake. The small continous breeze of wind made his cuffs ripple slightly. He spoke the same as before, the ever-calm, polite, and generally seeming to be a nice person. Except for you know, almost firing on her without hesistation from merely the sound of her cane in a supposed 'safe-zone'. " Murazar Dauthi, Head of Intelligence. A pleasure to make your acquantice. Miss..." He left the end trail slightly so if she wished she could pick up on it.

Murazar nodded, the questions he was going to ask had been answered. Technically she was his superior in briggs, but also technically he only answered to reila. She would probably only suffice in battle or some such. Her gauntleted hands were freezing, he ignored it after letting his hand drop. He held his left arm posed to her to take it, mostly because almost every blind person. Even the proud, the arrogant, and the insane still took the persons arm. Even if they only considered them a seeing eye dog.

He waiting for her to either take his arm, or if she didn't it would answer other questions that were ringing in his skull. He watched her every motion, every word and tone behind it. He wasn't letting anything by him if he could help it. He spoke as he did before to reply to her, " Death Wind alchemist, at your service temporarily. I suppose i'll call you either Miss Szilagyi, or Major Szilagyi." Polite, well-spoken. His rough and tumble accent didn't fit it at all, he seemed as if he should barely be speaking audible english rather than educated, and gentlemanly type of english.

Murazar dropped his arm in reply to her not wishing to use it, he was surprised slightly that she could see. How, was quite another story since she was blind. He blinked to see her already walking, he paused to continue his thinking before she stopped. Alchemist, state probably. Somewhat powerful too, whats her style though. Sound? Possible. Metal or machines? Possible. Theres not much else that she could use, sounds the best out of anything possible. I'll have to study her more to discover what she can do. He smiled politely before walking up next to her.

He decided to keep her pace and let her pick and choose where to go, either that or if necessary guide them subtley to the rest of briggs. He replied to her polite as always, calm as always. His frigid tone matched hers word for word. " Very well then." He never specified whether that was to the first, second, or third sentence she said. Or just all of them, or none of them. He spoke aloud as before," Anywhere specific you wish to go, or just start from where we stand?" He needed a direction, whether for her to give him one that she wanted or have permission to generally do whatever way without offending her. Either way it didn't really matter to him.

Murazar glanced at her discreetly as he walked alongside her, subtley guiding them to the closest of the division offices and general territory. The Armor division. He replied to her, " A brief glance, I believe after that small battle. " He spoke as if the battle was small, technically it was. It wasn't even the worst he had been through, and it ran through his tone as if the battle was just another day in the office. He spoke pointing briefly off to the left at the outside.

" Drachma off in the distance, usually the use artillery and siege us from a distance if their attacking directly. Indirectly they use saboteurs to try and undermine us. Usually a combination of both with some new attack method thrown in." He said nothing else, and clearly wasn't going to talk much if at all without some kind of intervention. He was mulling over whether to go and get a drink, refil his flask, or just continue this inane tour. He didn't really have to do it, but he didn't need the second-in-command ticked off at him. Plus who knew what nuggest of gold information he could dig up if he could figure out what she knew.

Murazar had a temporary flashback to his mother, leaving her behind like that to move on since she wouldn't. He almost stopped in midstep but kept going as if it never happened, he turned his face to her with his polite smile. He spoke as he normally did, ever-frustrating calm, a slight bit of ice, and just a touch of politeness." Its not that at all, you just reminded me of leaving my mother behind when you talked about yours." He shrugged for a moment before pulling out a flask of alcohol, it wasn't obvious what it was since she couldn't see.

It was obvious that only alcoholics or drinkers carried a flask around though, what was in it wasn't beer or wine. It was whiskey, something with fire to burn the snow from his mind and stomach. It'd take at least a few hours if he didn't stop drinking before it hit him. Alcohol always hit people much later than they thought, he spoke again as they neared the doorway to the armor divisions area. " This area upcoming is the Armor Divison, Artillery, Tanks, the whole nine yards for that is here." As they walked in he allowed her to go in first and then walked after her to see many men working on maintenance below them on the various machines.

Murazar decided to reply to her flatly and honestly, " I left mine behind, so I guess its about even in our histories." Almost, it was the complete opposite but just the same in a manner of speaking. He watched as she admonished a worker who had just made a mistake in the repairs of a small jeep. Good thing it wasn't a tank or anything, then again only the more experienced worked on them. He glanced at the repairmen. A kid, or at least seventeen or eighteen, to him it was a kid. He was barely old enough that he must have just got out of vehicle repair school and only knew the formal side of repairing instead of the instincts of experienced or talented person.

He spoke light humoringly to the kid, " You check the oil yet?" He raised his eyebrow to the kid as he jumped up and got right on over to check the oil, it was amazing he hadn't had the thing fall on him due to setting up a jack improperly. He frowned lightly before sighing and turning back to ilona as she worked on the vehicle with precision. He watched her, analyzed, she wasn't bad look either but that wasn't what his eyes were searching for.

Murazar followed her, she might not have noticed but he was already moving next to her. Despite the gesture which sort of annoyed him, he wasn't a dog. Nor slow, after all she had to get up from whatever minor problem she fixed on the vehicle. He was already standing and wasn't likely to stand around gawking at tanks. He walked ahead of her as she lit a cigerrette to smoke, his nose wrinkled and he controlled his disgust of the smell. He spoke as usual, although his tone had a undercurrent in it. One that despite the politeness was generally unknown.

" Could you please keep the cigerrette smoke from my face if you can. I dont like the smell. " He decided to ignore her comment about the divisions needed cleaning. So one minor mistake, from a newly trained mechanic, in a single division means multiple departments needed to be cleaned up? Maybe she doesn't know her job, i'd better be careful so she doesn't screw something up. His thoughts were carefully held behind his polite smile and unreadable face. It was one of the few things he had practice in.

Murazar didn't even look at the ciggerette as it was thrown away he kept his eyes on hers, or rather where they probably were. Typically blind peoples eyes moved to look everywhere since they couldn't control them due to the muscle loss and contractions. He replied to her raising a eyebrow, so she could hear his heartbeat and tone changes. The tone was slight, and his heartbeat would've only kicked up maybe one or two points higher. She was dangerous, very dangerous. He hoped never to have to fight her, it might not end up well for either of them.

" The problem I have with you requires more attention to what you do, how you think, and how you do your job. If I notice any problems, i'll either tell you right then both sides of it and my recommendation on what to do. If you screw up, i'm left with cleaning up the mess. Considering I technically only answer to the Brigadier General. Since neither of us can really order each other around, I expect the same thing from you. Am I being clear enough Miss Szilagyi?" He kept his voice courteous, controlled, and concise. Plus it was put across diplomatically and as a understanding, he was no where close to stupid so he wouldn't just yell at her like a ignorant fool would.

Murazar grinned demonically when she finished what she spoke he closed the distance further until they were just a handful of feet away from each other. His voice never changed from the polite, calm, controlled, frozen tone it was. Almost as if a predator was stalking its prey and was pretending to be nicer or weaker than it was. " It isn't that I wouldn't want to fight, its more or less I wouldn't want to fight and lose body parts just to win or make it a draw. We are comrades only for the time being, no more no less. I dont owe you any more than I owe anyone else in this compound."

He froze in place, not from fear but then tension in his muscles. He was keeping himself locked in place, almost as if ready to pounce. Then in a moment or two it vanished, he felt more like a animal at the moment than human. After all, he was the Wind of Death and his name meant the Shadow of Death. He spoke again, this time his voice had a edge again. He almost seemed like he was debating back and forth whether to attack or not. His primal side fought the intellectual side, temporarily the intellectual side won over. " Lets continue our tour. By the way, is there any problem you have with me?"

Murazar laughed, not grimly or bitterly. It was genuine even if it lasted for a moment, he turned his head back at her while she trailed behind him, observing. He replied back, his voice containing humor for once. " I'd love to fight you, but only if it didn't result in dismemberment or death. Regardless, if theres one thing you need to know about me. Its don't assume anything, dont assume that I wont turn on you in the middle of a battle or go to your aid. Dont assume I wont befriend you in earnestness, or just snipe you from a rooftop. Dont assume, because it might kill you or I might. So feel free to choose whatever path you wish to walk down where i'm concerned."

That was probably the best thing to put out there, he was unpredictableness. Even he didn't know why he did things sometimes, either it was the drink or his instincts or some odd combination of them both. He grinned widely for a moment before he turned and kept walking. He wanted to know whether she'd try to be his friend, a enemy, or just not care to choose either for herself. Little did anyone know that unless you were a friend you were classified as a enemy. Despite the situation.

He stopped in his stride as he looked over her, she just suddenly looked different. Now that didn't make sense, he had already memorized her normal stance. This was different, almost sick or in pain. Something like that, regardless of that he decided to go ahead with the unpredictableness. He would care for the moment about her. It would be genuine too, depending on how she reacted to that would depend on how this trail would begin and end. It was all up to her to decide on how he'd treat her, as a ally or a enemy. Or both, although that'd be oddly difficult. Xanthus is both a enemy and a ally, its up to him to choose which to be in the end. I can understand if he infiltrated the enemies network to shut it down permanently with as little risk as possible, but I have no confirmation he's truly a ally and a enemy and not just a enemy.

His facial expression changed to worry, and he asked her calmly, yet genuinely concerned. It was almost completely concealed, but it was there." Are you alright? We could detour over to the infirmiry if you need a pick me up or something." Of course he did give her a way to continue to put on the facade of being perfectly fine, but just a little under the weather. After all, if he didn't she'd just continue to be in pain and then who knew what might happen next.