Role Models (Susan & Raphael SL)

Silence. Nothing but the ticking clock echoing across the classroom in the pink hues of sunrise and pen scratching on paper. It was just as well and simply how the businesswoman preferred it of course. Despite her late and turmoiled night she had still found herself here for the sake of silence or so she told herself, appearing long before any student who could normally bother her would be here. Unlike normal Susan was not in her dutiful business suit and instead in her full Cadet regalia that she absolutely hated wearing. Her suit was simple, neat-looking, you pressed it, it looked the same, it lent a professional appearance and did its function but in her police dress she had to worry about the ribbons being in alignment and the fourragere over her shoulder having the correct number of knots and all these useless and tiny little details she had to invest time and patience in despite seriously not caring a single bit about them.

Yet now she had to. Susan was the brain-child behind the Squire Program and had been loathe to tend to it after recent events, the timing of its opening and what was happening in her personal life was simply atrocious. However she had resolved to set herself to her work and aim for loftier goals which led her to make attempts to become the role model for the leader she wanted to be within the Cadets and practice patience with people who did not think the way she could or did not think at all. Which she despised as well. It was a drain on her patience and time and felt like a waste to teach people common sense, those who could succeed and think would and despite her belief in that she was still responsible in ensuring that those that could not were at the very least basically trained. Susan preferred to lead through merit proven by effectiveness, not fighting prowess or charisma or God forbid "heart". Though after last night she could no longer deny it: heart was important. People would listen to those they believed in and follow those who they were loyal to, and if she wanted everyone to follow her carefully thought-out strategems and act as they should she would need to be liked admired instead of beating everyone over the head with her intelligence. Or she would turn her back for five minutes and everyone would get themselves killed somehow.

Which brought her here, in her desk, in a classroom of Seven Stars. She was writing the rubric for the following weeks and what she had planned to cover given time, lessons in integrity and legal definitions and safety tips and procedures with some exercise sparingly thrown in. Unfortunately for her she could not dictate the tight schedule she had wanted to because she did not know when she would be pulled away, and it was happening more and more frequently. Truth be told she was here for an escape of sorts. The calm before the storm. Her mind was barely focused on the actual structure of the curriculum despite coming here to fill her time with work so she did not have time to fret or deal with more... personally upsetting... issues. All she could think about was if she did not come in early today she would have stayed home in her pajamas all day drinking box wine and eating junk and that was not a woman that Susan wanted to be. If all she was good at was work then she would work, despite the hollowness of the awards and the futility it would do her personally. It was better than laying down and never rising again. As the Prince had said this need not be permenant though she didn't believe him; this was all she had left to cling to, and out of spite no less.

But she directly faced none of this, accepting it as a fact of life and occupying herself to avoid that which frightened her. Busying her mind with plans and connecting puzzle pieces to reports and what they meant, deciding what the best way forward was and how to reach that instead of dwelling on the present where she existed in intense emotional pain masked by bitc- ...cold behavior over the loss of everything she had come to rely on and the future she had looked forward to evaporating before her very eyes along with all the trust she had in 99% of the population. No. Not a bit of it. Today there were cases to follow up on and briefs to give and planning to do. It was of utmost importance that she did those things and would not accept otherwise. The ticking and pen-scratching continued.

"It'll be great he says. You're still young he says, join the academy. You'll make friends...... I'm only getting older, and this is getting more and more ridiculous. "

Raphael was heading over to the squire's program in order to give them the good graces of his good will. It was pretty much down the hall, and he thought that giving a fruit basket from assorted arrangements would be a nice way to break the ice and share with some members. There was also a small bottle of red wine inside the cuff of the basket, something that Raphael simply couldn't help himself with.

He was more of a drinker, but he could definitely resist for the time being. He could share the good graces of how great wine truly was, and how it could benefit others. Well, besides getting them to relax a bit more.

"Hm? This place is rather quiet...."

Coming to the door with the basket in his hand, the one thing that Raphael wasn't expecting to hear was .....nothing.

Ok well, maybe there was something, the constant clicks of a pen that continued to go on and on for quite some time.

"You got a visitor, excuse me..."

Raphael then walked in, dressing in his regular getup. This seemed a bit natural to him, but Raphael looked somewhat like a cadet when he wore the seven stars academy uniform in his own style.  Of course, there were some alterations, but it did bring out the most of his own personality and allowed him to be bothered to wear it in the first place.


"We kind of share this hall, I'm with the Cult Of Personality, a club for social quality..charisma building.. and things of that nature. Teaching people to be the best versions of themselves while making themselves socially able to display that to others. I'm good at what I do, but my theme song might be a little annoying from time to time, playing it before the club officially has its start. I'm not too sure if that's been an inconvenience for you as of late, so I wanted to see you in person...."

Her features were striking, very much Raphael's type. It was a lot to work with judging from her current facial expressions, but he expected this much.

"So to make peace, I bought you this to share with your group.  I got enough for everyone, I mean, assuming there would be more people here at this time. But since no one else is here... we can share it..."

It seemed as if not even the early hour could save her from human interaction. She had specifically arrived at the crack of dawn to get some things done and clear her head by herself, to mentally prepare for the trainwreck ahead of her called The Life and Tragedies of Susan M. Groves but this was par the course, really. If she was going to work in a professional capacity to avoid being home alone she should seriously have expected interruptions. Can't have it both ways. Susan closed her eyes with a sigh and deliberately put her pen down. She was in uniform and performing a public service, so no matter what she had to put her best foot forward and be approachable despite her general agitation towards anything with a pulse. Afterwards she could go back to being miserable alone, but comfortably miserable. The woman opened her eyes with a more expectant... neutral expression. At least it wasn't her leave me alone frown and piercing stare that she turned to face him with. But when she did look her mouth opened slightly and that expression of inquisitiveness and politeness took upon one of cracked glass; it was a look that was both empty and charged with intent.















.................................he was supposed to be dead. She heard the report that he was dead, the report couldn't be wrong! She didn't IMAGINE it, she had a whole discussion about this very matter!! ....didn't she...? Susan's heart rate plummeted and her vision darkened before skyrocketing with bright spots sparking across her eyes. He couldn't be here he was dead. Gabriel Gatsby was shot to death. She told herself over and over but HE was still HERE. It was happening again. Reality was breaking just like last time in the television studio. Had she spoken to the Prince last night? She believed she did. But Gabriel was here or perhaps he wasn't and she was imagining it the same as when Cecilia hit her head in the classroom. Or perhaps the sleep deprivation had gotten to her and she was face-first on her desk and unconscious. In any case the small woman was no longer able to discern what was real or not and her scrambled brain spun like a top inside her skull for answers and what was as she stared at Gabriel with a deer-in-the-headlights expression. Suffice enough to say she hadn't heard a word he said.

...........................no. No, this was not him. It couldn't be he was dead. There was a slim chance she had imagined speaking to His Majesty the night before, her equipment was outside of its case because she did not put it away and the report could not be wrong. Even if it was he would not be walking around. All of this could not have happened overnight along with the event. Which meant that she was either dreaming or hallucinating but the more she thought.......
.........no, it absolutely was not him. Just someone who looked incredibly similar. Hell, she couldn't notice when someone got a new haircut sometimes. His voice was different, his inflection was different, even the way he stood was different and his speech patterns. It was someone with fair looks and glasses looking somewhat proper and Lord knew she worked for at least two of those and dated a third and- ...wow was Freud trying to tell her something.

When the Cadet was stuffed back into the present she had found two of her fingers on his- no, it was her revolver now. Her hand in a ready position on her hip holster underneath the desk. She hadn't even realized. Susan blinked rapidly and forced a cough as she returned to form.
" 'm good-" she croaked at the offering of food. This was making her queasy anyway. But now she was in this room with... someone who her mind wasn't grasping like some eldritch object, her eyes were visibly unfocused and she noticeably seemed confused as it took time to register the fact that he was... HERE! Speaking to her and looking like him, was this a person? Yes, yes it was! Quit staring and interact with it, him, whatever this is!

Susan stood up with a shake of her head in a futile attempt to clear the cobwebs. When did her heartbeat get that... it wasn't even fast, it was uneven. Well that's pretty healthy.
"...'m sorry, I-I've been up all night and I'm feeling a little... wh-who are you and why are you here again...?" Good! Talking was good and half of it was a complete sentence! The businesswoman's brain continued to heave in an attempt to jumpstart itself as she looked at... whoever this was as if he had a bicycle growing from his forehead.

"..................."

Did something just happen? Raphael wasn't sure, but he didn't know if he attributed to some sort of awkward moment without even knowing that he did. It seemed quite difficult to get a grasp on, but he was an expert at the art of social elitism. He could read the room, there was a definite shock, but there could be many reasons why this could have occurred.

Maybe he surprised her? Maybe he has woken her up from her nap?

This was their first meeting, and Raph wasn't expecting himself to make a bad first impression so soon.


"Gatsby.................Raphael Gatsby. I'm new to this town, looking for my twin..... but other than that..I started a club and I was just settling in, and I figured i'd stop by and say ...hi... if that was ok. I'm also an archeologist and own a museum but... I guess that's not important right now."

For once, Raphael didn't know what to say. He couldn't seem to shake this strange feeling from this girl, maybe she met his brother before and the resemblance was uncanny? Well, it was annoying if they couldn't be told apart, but he was the newcomer in these parts anyway. This was something he would have to deal with in time.

"Hm.... since you don't want it. I'll just place it on the table here, but please don't let the wine go to waste. "

Such a tragedy if it did.

"So I introduced myself as the representative of my club.... who are you?"

Gatsby. Seriously? It was so terrible it was almost funny, like a divine comedy with her as the female lead of these tragic proceedings. Here she had found a devoted man who had given her everything and more with nothing in return, and in the resolution she had made to commit to him he revealed his villainous nature and today his twin had moved in down the hallway from her the morning after he was killed and, apparently, he knew nothing. But Susan did not believe in coincidences. Everything happened for a reason no matter how small, and while she wasn't paranoid the businesswoman was cautious. This was not as innocent as it appeared, it was highly unlikely that it could be and she could not allow everything to be brought to the light of day for risk of retaliation. Nor could she accept anything from him with any good will given she was responsible for his brother's arrest.

Susan had found herself staring at him more intensely the more he spoke with what could be mistaken for disdain as her brain worked to chisel apart everything he was saying and make a picture from it. Or maybe it was disdain. Could she be blamed for that after everything that happened? Gatsby was no longer a pretty word to hear. Everything he said would need to be completely credible or the opposite, her mind created its own checklists to cross-reference when she had the inclination. That is a lot of established history for someone who had came from nowhere... unless none of it existed.

An inflated pause existed between them as she continued her bad habit of staring and grinding the wheels in her head on how to proceed. Her unnattainable desire would be to have had enough foresight to close the door on him and not deal with it this week but that couldn't be done. Worst of all, she had resolved to be more friendly. Talk about hitting the ground running.
".............I'm sorry but I'm afraid it will," she finally responded with a grim attempt at a smile, "I don't drink and none of my Squires are of age yet. It's a lovely gesture but I'll have to decline." Susan stood from her chair and encircled her desk to more directly face him. When she stopped her arms moved as if to cross them yet froze, and she extended an open hand to shake.
Be friendly Susan. Don't act standoffish, don't pry, make small talk, try not to frown or show your empty patience meter. Pretend to be interested.

"I am Officer Groves, Cadet and the club organizer of the Squire Program. I teach young men and women how to be be model citizens with the goal of training them to be successful within their communities through integrity, compassion, and leadership as well as developing useful life skills and moral fortitude. As the name suggests there is a focus on becoming a Cadet but it isn't mandatory. It is nice to meet you." Well... she managed to be polite. That had to count for something. Susan did not smile and kept to her usual neutral pensive frown with a professional tone and that was good enough for her. The short woman wasn't about to become bubbly overnight, she would much rather step on a nail instead.
"That is quite a lot to be involved in for being new in town," she commented with a gesture. "Where did you come from, Mr. Gatsby? I imagine there's a bit of culture shock compared with our fair city, I'm not actually certain where in the world is still intact."

Yeah, no.

Raphael slowly set the wine aside for himself, he was going to have this bad boy all to himself if she didn't want to participate in the festivities. If certain people didn't drink, good for them. Drinking made him happy, it was a merry ritual that he used for social reasons or even thinking or getting over something. He was fine with being the only one to share a drink with, himself.


"Officer Groves, it's a pleasure. "

Raphael shook her hand while it looks like he was trying to pry some information out of his memory banks. The name sounded familiar, but he had no real idea as to why. Was this the same Groves that was in his brother's journal? In this day and age, someone was still akin to the simple act of jotting down their thoughts and greatest and closest moments in a book. It was never specific, but sometimes, it felt like his brother was in pain.

But why?

"All of these skills sound quite familiar, just like the Cult of Personality. Well, we have similar goals but for different reasons. You represent the whole, I think that for such a big change in the world to come to pass, they need to be built up as people with more personable experiences. Law enforcement authority, the name of the game at some times is talking to people. That's where I come in, consider that an Invitation if you like? Even out of mere curiosity..."

Where did he come from? That's quite difficult to answer.

"Archeology brings you to plenty of places, lots of foreign places. My last expedition involved looking for Aztec artifacts. Some gained from Mesoamerican civilizations that died out long ago,
so I would say I was recently at the south of the continent before arriving. But you can't narrow down where I've been because I'm always on the move. But feel free to look at my passport if there is a place you are interested in hearing about. But, things have changed, in some ways. Nothing really remained the same, each area has its own way of dealing with the changes that came upon this world since the great divide. We have to adapt to it, Ms. Groves, it's how we survive. "

Well he certainly loved to brag about himself. Or rather sell himself. It became apparent why he was leading the sort of club that he did at least in spirit. Advertising who he was, what he did, making it sound fantastic and mysterious, and enrapturing experience it must be to live his worldly life of escapades and adventure.
...it didn't work on Susan. She was someone who appreciated substance over style and the truth of the matter was readily apparent to her. In communication this was the same, there was more to speaking than charisma and while Raphael would fluff his feathers and ribbon his words into some grand tapestry the businesswoman's method of communication was clinical and the opposite, see: cutting that tapestry into equal length strips to analyze for consistency.

"If I ever have the time, I am very busy most days." She shook her head apologetically. That one physically hurt to be that polite but... what she said was technically not politeness. She hadn't had much of a free moment in months. Yet she never really did intend on visiting his club. For starters it would not be at all appropriate. Susan was a club leader, what impression would she give off if she were attending someone else's club? The Cadet knew, of course, that it would mean she was not dedicated to hers, that hers was inferior and it was a trap she would not fall into. For a student that may have been all well and good, extracurriculars and all that but she was training future Cadets. Her standards had to be highest. More difficult still was it to not argue with him that they most definitely were not the same or even close. Raphael was teaching people to sell themselves and in that there wasn't ever an unselfish pursuit, it was the means to assert one's dominance or gain favor and the people who sought that were always looking to gain. Susan instilled tact and respect from a moral foundation with a goal in mind of service to the community, which put into action was inherently unselfish.

She could sum it up in two sentences: She was molding young people to be respectable pillars of society. He was giving people the skills to get ahead. Not even the goals were the same.

Though she said nothing about this, only chewing on the inside of her cheek. Being more personable meant going against her nature to throw people's ideas on the floor to see if they remain in one piece or shatter. Yet this had not earned him the unamused stare she was giving him. What had done that was talking around her question instead of answering it. The closest he had come was informing her that he had most recently come from South-Central Mexico but that didn't tell her where. Oaxaca? Peubla? Was he in the Valley of Mexico? How did people he had seen adapt to changes? How distinct were the socio-cultural differences between us and them? There were people out there who could have probably been impressed and in awe that Rapheal Gatsby, Interntational Archeaologist had traveled the world on the sake alone that he had traveled the world but Susan was getting the distinct impression that she was being spoken down to. Which was a shame, since she possessed formal education over world history and knew what she was talking about.

"...I should hope that none of Aztec artifacts you found were gained from Mesoamerican civilizations long dead. Because the Aztec Empire was the last before the conquistadors. The scientific world would have a field day if they found out that the Incans could time travel," she deadpanned with dull eyes and a frown. Thaaaaaat was her limit and a line she would not cross. Susan would not offer a smidgen of politeness to an expert of their field being factually wrong, if they did not want to be criticized they would not be wrong or admit to not knowing instead of trying to sound intelligent. If it was one thing she couldn't stand it was incompetence. Susan offered up a hand in gesture and put on an apathetic smile devoid of comfort.
"I think you meant just Aztec artifacts sir... you were saying?"

Raphael was a little perplexed that this woman has brought him into a corner. Sure he may have made a mistake in explaining himself, but Raphael was a master of communication. Or better yet, he was the self-proclaimed master of communicating with people and had the ability to read the room right away. With Susan bringing up his blunder, he was quite appreciative of her pulling her punches, Raphael would hate to look like an amateur of his craft in front of others.

But he also hated to admit defeat so easily as well.


"Oh, so you caught on to that? Unfortunately, Miss Groves, I have to defend what I said."


"The Aztecs were apart of the ones who developed great civilizations in Mesoamerica. When I brought that sentence together, what I was really trying to say was that my archeological research at that time was geared towards the Olmec, Maya, and Aztecs. Anything is possible in the world we live in, the terrorism caused by the great divide created a lot of confusion and dangerous circumstances in the field of my research. Especially with the Maya civilization, the belief in these gods has skyrocketed as if they still exist. I'm not too inclined on ruling out time traveling either, it would make a great addition to my vault. "

But he did give out a small chuckle.

"You would have to forgive me, I only like to share it with my enthusiasm. And speaking of which, how excited is the average person in getting a chance to join the cadets? I wonder where an average person could find the source of such bravery against the unknown. Call it the ignorance of newcomer, I could never understand how my brother could live in such a dangerous city."