The Queen

[Char Aznable]

Leaning back in her chair was comfortable. It didn't look like it, but it was. Another edge she had over whoever she called in here, who had to shift and find a good way to sit on the blank stools in front of the table. It gave her time to ponder while whoever sat across the desk would usually get jumpy quickly. She gave another mental order, the holoprojector in the desk flaring up again and displaying the eagle-crowned rose of her current enemy. The translucent, slowly spinning picture separated the space between them. Time to see how smart he was.
"Then tell me, Fischer. Who doesn't get along with the rose?"
A question as simple as asking for a spreadsheet with diplomacy, but the implication, she hoped, was clear. 'Who do you want to blame?' And of course, that still left the question of how to not only hide their tracks, but also point in the direction of someone else, whoever he suggested. She could've given him options, of course, but decided against it. A man in his position should be as well-informed as possible, especially when he approached her.
The only audible sound was that of her metal fingers, clacking against each other in a steady rhythm, like a robotic heartbeat.

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#notmyfrankfurt