Comparing Notes [Calliope/Emil]

Ah, so she answered to his request to meet after all. There was a possibility or two that the newly instated Director may have gotten cold feet or was too swamped adapting to her new responsibilities, especially knowing how the previous Director managed her systems. It was a good thing she found a block in her schedule to meet, especially with what was needed to be discussed.

The sight that greeted Calliope was a quaint, dark office, lit only by a warm lamp on his desk. The atmosphere of the bookshelf-lined room was somewhere between comfortable and claustrophobic, the only valid escapes being the door she came in through and the heavy-curtained window that hung behind him. His desk was some form of organized chaos; documents, tools, pens, and a two-monitor computer visible on the workspace, the soft drone of piano music from a playlist being the only other noise present in the room aside from speech.

That figure at the desk would not be an entity the typical person saw; robed in white uniform, his typically free white locks completely obscured by the dark sheen of a mask and the cover of his coat, not an inch of skin visible as he lied his folded hands on the desk, thick black gloves contrasting with his pristine outfit.

"Tense are we, Miss Schwarzmann?" Seemingly unflattered by the compliment, the darkness of the mask lit up with a waveform, the man's voice distorted by the mechanics of the helmet, twisting it into something deep, inhuman on the ears as he would reach over to grab two items atop his work surface; a teapot and cup, "Belated congratulations on your recent promotion, although quite the trying time to have to reorientate your working environment. Quite the mess for the Vandenreich, as per usual."

With little gesture to the refreshment, he had poured her a cup and offered it to her on a saucer with placing the hot drink on her sitting end of the desk, soon returning to his original position with all the grace and coolness that came second nature to him, "So tell me - a complete catastrophe has occurred, morale is likely at rock bottom, and it is incredibly likely that this will simply happen again; what are you planning to do in order to aid in improve this situation?"

Of course he had recollection of the woman's skills and past, such was why he wasn't critical or inquisitive toward her ability to perform her work - he had belief in her competence and grace under fire. The man sorted and went through papers as the two spoke, not at all seeming distracted or detracting from the talk at hand; the handling of multiple light tasks was nothing to someone such as him.

A campaign with a soldier as the face of it, mm? Not an awful idea in concept if the candidate was capable of living up to such a mantle outside of their face plastered upon a multitude of flyers and digital postings. There were already potential members on his mind to advise contact with, the dark screen finally flickering back to life as that distorted voice crawled from the mask once again, "I can give you a list of viable candidates after this talk if you wish,"

"Ah yes, you did inherit Miss Kishar's position, you inevitably would have to radically adapt the workflow; she was a Danava with a particular aptitude in memory and workflow, I had expected any inheritors to need the resources to compensate. If you would like, I could send my assistant over occasionally to assist you; she may be inexperienced but she is capable of handling such things."

Having settled his movements on a particular stack of papers, he'd begin flipping through them with little break of attention to Calliope, "Well? Have you any other methods in mind to settle the worries of the public and our forces? Simply putting pictures up with spiriting words isn't going to convince many that the Vandenreich is willing and capable of overcoming this threat."

If she was intent on meeting with the party he was guessing she was, then he could quite say she already had a good start. The offer in aiding with that process still stood either way. It was a perilous tightrope walk for the organization right now, a walk he was intent on making sure they cleared. He continued reading through the stack of papers as his fellow Director would go on to answer his question, and ask one of her own, a closed hand went to rest his chin as that darkness stared back at her once again,

"The only angle I could have potentially thought of would have been to cast blame onto the Gotei for not anticipating a surprise attack in the dead of night and sending Captain-level combatants to respond, but even a child could poke out the flaws of such a smokescreen. Several high spirit class threats of various origins... It was not something capable of being prepared for unless we had a fortune-teller within our ranks. It would be far less of a difficult sell to paint it as a mutual loss than simply ours alone."

The papers in his possession were transcripts, unwitting testimonies from survivors of which he had gathered in the several days, as he pondered her question for a moment, "A great lacking in raw power. It would take but a singular Gotei member of particular strength to be a considerable threat to the entirety of our forces. We are but ants to the mercy of a gardener's boot. Our loss of individuals with considerable power over such a short duration did quite the number; we certainly aren't the force we were during the war."

Despite having quite the depressing response, he spoke about it with the same tonal weight as small talk, "We are unable to make mountains out of flecks in such a short duration that would be needed to confront this threat. It simply is impossible to build the typical man that quickly. The Gotei has a surplus of members with decades of experience over us, such a thing is natural given their extended lifespan and safe little enclave. It would be difficult to run a campaign outright disparaging them now, considering our cooperation is our only means of pushing against these mountainous threats that keep surfacing."

That dark screen tipped down, as if in thought for a moment, before that discordant voice would speak up once again, "We have to focus on what we have control over in the short term. Have you considered perhaps some form of recognition for the soldiers who survived the operation? I would have no fear of mistakenly encouraging mediocrity in this occasion, it would be foolish to imply anything short of poor odds led to this failure."