Things had gone surprisingly well with his date, adversely poorly with High Command. As if he hadn't been frustrated enough by the shadowed trio's barrage of insults followed by unreasonable demands, his partner received another private audience with them. One she requested, and he was instructed to leave.

No one scheduled a meeting with High Command. They scheduled it.

So he went to see Sally. His visit served two purposes: he had apologies to dole out to her as well as a huge favor to beg of her. In that order, of course, to prove most effective.

She didn't seem all that receptive for a receptionist, however. He knew she saw him walking into the lobby, and he knew she was ignoring him. So Steelbeak approached her desk, flashing a charming grin.

"Mornin', beautiful," he greeted her, leaning one elbow upon the counter against her desk.

Sally's eyes flickered up to vaguely acknowledge his face but not his gaze, then focused back on her monitor. There was no interest in instigating a conversation.

He repressed a groan. Though disappointed, he couldn't have been at all surprised. He would hate to admit that he probably deserved such treatment, too.

"Yer not mad at me, are ya?"

"I take it the date must have gone well."

Sally was intriguing. Her tone was excessively pleasant, but her icy stare was locked on the computer screen and her fingertips flew along the keyboard with a sort of graceful anger.

"I stayed out late wit' her but she didn' come back here wit' me." Though in all likelihood, she might have. Steelbeak hadn't felt quite brave enough to venture the suggestion yet. At least there was a 'yet.' He still couldn't believe it.

"Unfortunate for you, I'm sure." It wasn't meant as an insult but her demeanor left much to be considered.

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