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Characters: Waver, Marty, anyone else that stayed topside
Setting: Hidden Floor
Format: Any
Summary: Let's figure out that exhaustion thing!
Warnings: TBA

[The Hidden floor is probably the safest place in the Tower right now, but "safe" is relative when everybody is starting to feel the effects of the new threat.

The infiltration team has a dangerous job, but how well can those who stayed behind prepare for the aftermath when they have their own crisis to deal with?]

[This is a mingly log! Feel free to post your own subthread!]

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[When Archer sees that reaction, that shock, he immediately takes interest; even if he's feeling the exhaustion effects, he climbs to his feet and raises his voice to get her attention.]

I know that my greatness is worth such reactions, but enthusiasm is a much more attractive look.

[Pausing in her wandering, Grainne doesn't respond right away. In fact it takes her a while to realize he's addressing her again.

A more attractive look? What? She shakes her head.]

Your friend is a powerful fighter.

[Any affront he may have taken to her delay in response is quashed by her actual words.]

How refreshing. Few others have made the connection without being told outright.

[He doesn't respond to the actual comment quite yet.]

I was at a disadvantage in the War as I am no fighter. I had to use all of my wits to make up for it.

[Finally, she turns back, a faint look of regret on her face.]

It ended too soon.

[Despite the look he sees, Archer just seems somewhat amused. It's all he can do not to be somewhat offended now that he hears his dear companion may have been involved in a Holy Grail War.]

You said 'Berserker' as you turned away. Were you killed by his hands?

[She blinks at him in mild surprise before nodding.]

We worked together for a time, but things changed and there was no choice but a battle between us.

Against the overwhelming power of a Berserker class, especially him, you would stand little chance. Do not despair -- the end was decided as soon as the Servants of your War were summoned.

[He revels in the sheer idea of such a War, smiling in bemusement to himself.]

[Grainne's breath catches in her throat and she's unable to make her lungs work for a moment.

Decided when the Servants were summoned... do not despair...

How dare he say that? He has no idea what she has been through in the War, and much less the things she has had to face here.

A flash of rage and fury shows only seconds before she whirls around and walks away. The rage falls away quickly though, and her shoulders slump. As arrogant as he sounds, she knows he is right. If she could not defeat even one Servant on her own, how could she expect to win?]

...If you have never had someone you would do anything for no matter the odds, then I pity you.

[Archer watches her with continued interest, his confidence in this particular subject keeping his tone light despite their current state. To think that she would seem so hurt over what was in fact the nature of the Holy Grail War. It was almost comical.]

You have already met him.

[Bitterness seeps into her voice.] Have you ever had to face those kinds of odds for his sake? What could be so insurmountable to you? You are those kind of odds.

[He laughs then, tilting his head to one side at her bitterness.]

Do you seek to make yourself feel better with how I answer? One even considered to fight such a fantastical war should know better.

[His steps are slow as he approaches her, eyes continuously trained on her.]

It has happened, there is nothing that will change that, and here you are without having won your War.

[His attitude strikes an deep chord within her, wishing that she had not approached him at all.]

No. I expect your answer to be the same as any man whose power has assured him of his own self importance. It is nothing I have not heard before.

[She hears those footsteps and feels a tingle along her spine. What is he attempting? Will he attack her? She rather thinks not with the others in the room, but he is not a normal Servant and there is no telling what he might do.]

I may have lost, but I lost to a better man than you.

[Though he approaches, he doesn't move to touch her; when he stops in front of her, he assesses her with his deep red eyes.]

Speaking without any thought at all! Truly, the words of one has no business in a war between Heroic Spirits. You lost to my equal, woman.

That in itself should tell you something.

[To speak of insurmountable odds. He scoffs inwardly. To consider one an equal, there had to have been ones of greater power. But that had been long ago, and the gods' power meant little to the world now.

The world meant little to the vast scheme of things now.]

[Grainne does not turn away from his gaze this time. Instead, she locks eyes with him determined and defiant.]

Do you think yourself unique and inspired?

[She thinks she already knows what the answer is, but she's asking anyway.]

I am exactly what I am. No one else may claim the title of King of Heroes and all under my dominion.

[He leans in when he sees she's locked eyes with him, smirking at her defiance.]

And who do you think you are?

[The defiance grows at his response, a hint of amusement twinging it.]

So then you do think yourself unique... but equal means the same as something else. You cannot claim to be unique and the same as something both at once. It is paradoxical.

[She stands her ground, refusing to be intimidated. Impassive to his closer presence. A strange contradiction to her earlier nervousness when he first approached her.]

I am Grainne, daughter of Cormac mac Airt.

I am unique, and he is my equal because I say he is. Paradoxes mean nothing to me, because I decide exactly what I want.

[Archer hums at her response.]

A young spirit, heroic or not.

[He lifts a hand with surprising (or perhaps unsurprising) quickness, reaching up to tweak her nose.]

How cute.

W-what? How dare you!

[Her ire rises almost immediately, both as Servant and woman. In fact, she completely forgets the brush off of logic...

She may not be a Lancer, but she raises her hand with all of her speed in an attempt to slap him across the face. Sorry, Archer...]

[Focused as he is on Grainne's face, he doesn't catch her hand at all as it comes at his face. He blinks hard after he's struck, leaning back.]

Taking offense to being called cute. You should smile.

[The amusement hasn't let up at all.]

Do not call me cute!

[She's still not calmed quite yet, but she is surprised she got that hit in. Somewhat mollified, the ire is fading.]

I have no wish to hear endearments or compliments or insults about my appearance. It is disgusting.

[Finally, she breaks her gaze and looks away, folding her arms.]

Just like a man, seeing only what is on the surface and treating it like an object.

[She has rather strong feelings on that subject after Fionn, but she's not about to tell him her history.]

I was not referring to your appearance at all; you are a young spirit, and that is cute.

[Well, he could clarify further, but he doesn't see any reason to do so.]

But if we are speaking about your appearance, that is fine as well.

[Grainne stares for a second, before unfolding her arms and placing both hands over her face.

She decides talking to him any further is impossible, and starts walking away.]

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Gil you just make her cry...