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[ Uncertainty has caused Claire to lay low for a few days, holding her distance from those around her as the confusion of so many abruptly-displaced souls makes itself known- across this network created between them and in the demeanor of the 'native' crowd's bustle alike. She hasn't wanted to show herself; this can't be Cocoon, but the weight of being called traitor causes reluctance regardless... wariness of anyone else who might recognize her face or name.

Plus, on the other hand, she can only imagine that any person who isn't from Cocoon might not like those who are, to... put it lightly. No matter where she is or what is really going on, she pretty much expects a hostile environment regardless.

... One that neglects to show itself. In the end, come what may, because her strategy so far is only causing her more agitation. She can't stay silent for long. ]

How many of you are military personnel, police or otherwise? What is being done about this?

[ Okay, so she could spend even more time combing through things, but obviously she'd rather cut a corner or two here as soon as the impulse strikes her, as direct as possible if she can get people to talk to her that way. Pros and cons weighed, she has her reasons in what she says and how she appears- video feed, even when she could choose voice-only or text, dressed in her dark-colored PSICOM uniform, shoulder-length hair carefully brushed around her serious face.

That said, she pauses, something else obviously right at the edge of her tongue. She promised herself she would keep quiet, yet doesn't want to and--

...

She refrains, and the feed ends. After all, if the Pulse l'Cie are here, she has a pretty good feeling they'll show themselves eventually on their own. ]

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[Laguna's been holed up in his house for a bit - after meeting with Stark, he decided it'd be for the best.

Which means, of course, he's been watching the network. But when he sees her - and back to normal too? He's about to reply though video, but he pauses. No, she might have lost her Manikin-listening powers.

So, a simple text message soon arrives for her. Well, not simple. Laguna has a lot to say. Oh... dear. Especially since you're nowhere near the one he knew...]

...Is that you? I mean, it looks like you - but how'd you stop being a Manikin? I mean, when you left us, I was pretty much the only one who thought you hadn't become a traitor! Well, Tifa was also on my side...

Anyway, why didn't y'reply to me when I made a broadcast? Would have saved me some worrying, that's for sure.

[ No, she's not at all whoever this guy thinks she is. In fact, the woman takes one look at this message, what is little more than total nonsense to her, and- ]

You have the wrong number.

[There's a long pause, before Laguna replies.

Though he starts a few times and keeps those there - this phone is a bit complex. (Also, d'ya mind if I use my canon!laguna journal for icons because i have a lot more emotions there?)]

But

Well

You didn't get amnesia again, did you?

Stop texting me.

[ No tolerance for shenanigans, this woman. Her patience is reserved for things she has strong reasons to believe aren't going to be found here anyway... not absurd messages from strangers when her attention is already elsewhere looking for answers. ]

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[The face is immediately one he recognizes— even with the difference in hair, though honestly, in a little phone screen that's neither here nor there. But everything is unmistakable. Her eyes, her voice, her sharp commanding pose and demeanour...

Hope had already thought this place to be a dream, and now this new bit of surrealism isn't doing much to shake that notion.

His hands go weak - so much, in fact, that the phone slips through his fingers and clatters surely to the floor. A wonder it doesn't break, but he stoops to gather it up, becoming more aware that his breathing's gone erratic. From what? He cannot place it. Excitement, fear, nostalgia, probably every colour on the emotional spectrum at this point.

This is what he's been fighting for. It doesn't make sense, but she's here, right in front of him... the one who built him up to fight in the first place. His mentor, his inspiration, his family. All gone in the blink of an eye thirteen years ago—and just as such, without explanation, it's like it never happened.

Hope drags in a deep wavering breath through lungs that seem to shudder, and he's sure his face has gone pale. Reason will come through soon, it will remind him that everything happens for a purpose and there's going to be something more at work here. But right now, right now...

After clearing his throat, he finally opens the line.]

Lightning.

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[ In contrast, that name... is enough to make her blood immediately run cold. Her lips settle into a line, her expression tense behind the steadiness she's determined to preserve.

She'd be stupid to assume zero chance of being recognized - had half wanted it to happen - but the way this stranger addresses her by the name the media insisted on puts her on edge. Very slightly, she turns her face from one side to the other, trying to place him, but in the end, if it's recollection he wanted it isn't forthcoming here. ]

Yes?

[ Wary. Not knowing what to expect, but compelled to answer- she can't deny who she is. ]

[The casual way she answers does leave behind a prickle of doubt. There's something that troubles him about it that he can't quite place. Does she not remember her time in that place - in Valhalla, constantly locked in battle? Would it not have left some mark on her as a person? Hope knew that was a place outside of time, but...

His lips curve slightly. Not wholly a smile, merely one of his many polite ones, often used to save face. It won't reach his eyes, but that doesn't matter to him yet.

His words are laced with a dry, incredulous sort of chuckle, though.]

Lightning... it's me. Hope Estheim.

[A formality he's gotten used to; his full name slips out without really thinking on it first. But perhaps it's necessary anyway. His throat is still tight, voice quiet and controlled.]

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[He's not sure if he's relieved or bothered when the familiar face flicks onto his screen. Instead there's just the downward twitch of blond brows and a mild frown. If she's here than he's not the only one. And if he's not the only one then -

He'll flick the feed onto video.]

Lightning.

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[ Another one, using that name. By now, Claire's starting to grow agitated- something that's only thinly-veiled at best in the steady but quiet lowness of her voice when she answers. ]

I prefer Lieutenant Farron.

[ Perhaps dangerous, but she stands by the assertion even as she mentally braces herself for whatever's coming next. She doesn't know what to expect, but assumes it's probably not good given his demeanor. Is he someone who believes her to a traitor as Barthandelus painted her, or... for whatever reason, yet another who believes themselves familiar in some inexplicable way? ]

[He doesn't shrug - but it's mentally there. He's never heard anyone call her that before but it's not as if they're actually on the same side. or... maybe they are now. He doesn't know and he doesn't expect her to either.]

Fine. Farron. Are the others here too?

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video: (I swear I'd replied to this already. Sorry for the delay)

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[The Ninja doesn't recognise the uniform but he feels the need to respond anyway; there's something so carefully constructed about the woman she's trying to portray in the video, a quiet wariness or maybe it's just how serious and to the point she is. What she declined to say is almost more interesting than what she didn't.]

I was an elite in the Choujin Special Police. Not that it means much here.

Why do you ask?

Because even if disbanded, the values likely to linger in those who WERE in law enforcement seem the best things to look for in people willing to get a handle on what's going on here.

[ It's a little ironic given her personal situation, but at this point even if her words ring empty she still can't quite help them. It's too practiced and...

Honestly, she's not actually too sure what she's doing or what to expect. It's just against her nature to do nothing. ]

Sounds interesting- if you can find enough people and get them to work together. We all probably have very different ideas about what "law enforcement" entails.

[He sends the first message but, after a few moments of consideration, follows it up with another.]

You talk like you come from that sort of background yourself.

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I'm otherwise! [ Sort of. ] Not a fan of police. Bit more excited by the military though. [ Since she is on a video feed and she has zero manners, the woman is casually eating away at a bag of pretzels. ] Why you looking for them though? [ munch munch ] Think the police specialize in magical worlds and their nutty queens?

[ .... Wow, rude. Claire tries not to look on in too much distaste, though the success of the attempt is up for debate. ]

Is it not obvious?

[ But rude is her middle name! She's used to getting those kinds of looks, and is not at all bothered by them. ]

What, that you're lookin' for the cops or that they're magic experts? Because uh, I see the first one but not so much the second.

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I work with the police, if that counts at all.

Doing what?

[ Given the huge range of what that could possibly mean... yeah, she has to ask, barely even pausing to think. ]

Crime Scene Investigation.

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probubbly nofin

[ Claire almost doesn't reply at all - she hardly cares if someone's too lazy to spell correctly, after all - but... ]

Meaning?

bet nomobys doin shit about this ass fest

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[So Train had no intentions on answering this until he heard her question.]

I'm not either one, but I am a Sweeper. [A pause.] A bounty hunter.

Bounty hunter?

[ That... to be honest, he might as well have claimed to be a knight or something, because that sort of thing is generally relegated to the realm of fiction in the place she's from, to be honest. It's not that she doesn't believe the claim, but... ]

Yeah. You know... You take in a criminal that's been wanted and you get the bounty -- or the money -- for turning them in.

[text reply over this side i am so sorry about him--]

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