[attr="class","spiral"]"Only fools," Amalia rolls the words around her mouth while rolling her mostly spent cigarette between her fingers, "I like that." Maybe she doesn't quite agree, but she likes it. When she puts the bud of a cigarette back to her lips (now so small she can barely fit the required two fingers around it) she looks at the other woman. Really looks while she talks.

It's been a while since someone else held such passion for her subject -- much less put that passion on display in a place she could see it so clearly. Amalia's field is, to put it bluntly, an eccentricity to most. Study of extraterrestrial pokemon and the other mysteries of space goes nowhere fast; and beyond studying the odd quirk here and there most of her peers don't see the point in long term research. They don't see the potential.

This young woman, though. She sees it. Doesn't just see it, seems almost as fascinated with it as Amalia is. On the cusp of being consumed by it the same way she has been. The same way another was once.

"A woman after my own heart," she replies simply, smiling ear to ear now as smoke leaks from the corners of her lips, "I don't begrudge the masses, my fellow scientists, too much for their apprehension. Space is vast and frightening and we know now apparently full of cannibals . . . Or at least man-eaters, I guess. But that pull of countless possibilities is exactly why we need people willing to take the risk. 'Man must rise above the Earth, for only thus will he fully understand the world in which he lives'."

[attr="class","sunshine"]"Not at all," she replies pleasantly before turning to leave the lab. She looks over her shoulder and waves a little as she does, "Have a good night, Mr. Silph."

[attr="class","sunshine"]The threat is acted on at Silph's words. Her eyes flash and her teeth peek out from behind her lips.

"Don't I just," she says, not laughing but the same kind of mirth bubbling into her voice again.

"I assume that'll be all for tonight then, Mr. Silph?" she asks, standing up straight with a light groan and stretching until her mid-back gives a few unflattering pops and clicks.

[attr="class","sunshine"]"If you have a contract lying around I can take it home and have it read over by . . . let's say the weekend. I'd love to get my equipment and get to work as soon as possible, but I'd love to avoid accidentally winding up destitute more," Amalia replies seamlessly, that playful expression threatening to return to her face.

She takes internal note of the comment on the Minior. This she hadn't known, already the Silph partnership is paying off -- and it's not even official yet!

"Minior, too, then."

[attr="class","sunshine"]Amalia nods along while Silph speaks. It's all straightforward enough. They're already on the trail of what she'd been considering, as could be expected from an operation so prestigious. She's not going to have many uniquely clever ideas in a room full of the brightest.

"If you get me some samples I can start running some tests, my own pokemon double as research subjects as far as extraterrestrial pokemon are concerned," she replies. Voice and expression slightly more focused now that talk of work has truly begun.

"Mmm," she hums, thinking, "I'm based in Meteor Falls right now for my studies on the Staryu line. I can check on how the Lunatone and Solrock populations are responding."

[attr="class","sunshine"]The surprise from Silph surprises her in turn. From the way her friend from the other day dropped the name she'd assumed it was common knowledge for Hoennians.

"A friendly local the other day," she answers after pulling her cigarette from her lips and blowing smoke in a respectable direction.

"Good," Amalia nods as Silph goes on, "I have more experience with meteors than space parasites."

She subtly leaves off her lack of knowledge when it comes to extraterrestrial power sources and the motivations of aliens. If Silph can't already guess that's a bit too large a wheelhouse for her to manage alone he will once he's seen her resume. As far as her actual specialty, maybe analyzing what the thing is made of can give her some clues . . .

[attr="class","spiral"]Amalia sucks at her cigarette thoughtfully at the other woman's question before speaking on a smoky exhale.

"Probably nothing," she chuckles, "As it stands it's alien technology and alien space -- so if I found them right here right now I'd be at a loss as to how to proceed; but I guess that's part of the fun."

There's a playful glint in her eyes as she speaks that only grows brighter when she looks to her curious friend.

"Of course, I'm sure you're asking a better question. 'What would you do with them', assuming I had control of them when I stumbled upon them," there's a mirthful lilt to her voice as she speaks. As if she thinks herself very clever for the way she's twisted the conversation. Which of course she does.

"I've spent years in a rut as far as my studies are concerned. Chasing questions with answers that are more than elusive, answers that seem almost hostile towards the notion of presenting themselves to me. The origins of the pokemon I study, the unknown truths of space that have produced them, and folklore around both that feel less mythical by the day," she speaks in earnest now, frustration creeping into her voice around the edges.

"If I could learn to harness the potential of that technology the way your recently repelled raiders did, it wouldn't matter how much the answers wished to hide from me. How well they slipped away into dark corners and secret spaces. I could wrest them from their hiding spots with my own two hands and force them to show themselves to me. To let me understand," she's practically growling now. Her free hand reaches out and pulls at some ethereal opponent invisible to everyone present.

"I think I'd go a bit mad with the power of it all. No, I'd let myself."

[attr="class","sunshine"]"Of course," she purrs, pulling another cigarette from the pack as she circles around the car, "Treating yourself when there's not enough to go around is a sin they break you of in grade school, Mr. Silph."

Amalia slips the pack back into her jacket. Offers Silph his poison and lights her own where it's held between lips that stain before doing the only proper thing and lighting her new boss's as well. She takes a long, happy drag from her cigarette before following after the man -- puffing bits of smoke as she goes like a happy steam train.

From there it's all very routine for Silph. Less so for Amalia. She's worked in some nice places, went to some schools with beautiful labs, but taking in the glory that is Silph Co -- a branch at that -- makes her feel like a very small-time professional indeed. The polish that marks every corner. The quality machinery that sits not out of place but like it belongs here.

She lets out a low whistle as they enter the laboratory proper before giving her host her attention again.

"Astronomical," she corrects without any bite, that sly smile returning to her face, "A common mistake."

She click, click, clicks after him in her heels as he walks to a computer. She leans over his shoulder to get a better look at the screen (but makes sure it's obvious she's not looking at his hands while he types).

"Ah," she says, skimming the report. She knows this scene. The meteor that birthed a little nightmare. What had that woman from the other night called it . . ?

"Deoxys?"

[attr="class","spiral"]The first drag from her cigarette is slow, luxurious. She's still at it when then other woman finishes her question (the cigarette is almost half ash when she flicks it at the stones) and exhales the smoke long enough for her company to finish the rest of her curious musings.

"Deoxys?" Amalia asks, quirking an eyebrow, "That's . . . ah right, the thing that surfaced here during the invasion."

Bits of smoke still trail along the corners of her mouth as she thinks about it for a moment. About the stories from her hometown.

"No, I don't imagine I am. Here to find Deoxys that is," she says confidently. Takes another drag. Shorter this time, it's only a couple seconds before the cigarette leaves her lips and she puffs out a few smoky rings.

"Wormholes," she says finally, once the rings start to break and disperse in the air, "and Ultra Space. That's what I hope to find out here. Not directly of course, but maybe some clues that can lead me to them."

[attr="class","sunshine"]She's itching to smoke again as Silph starts talking contracts and handbooks. This all went much smoother than Amalia anticipated, but still it feels amazing. Satisfaction keeps hitting her in waves and . . . god she could just use a smoke right now.

"I would expect nothing less," Amalia replies, finally giving into the itch and pulling out a red box. She pulls out a cigarette but doesn't put it to her lips or light it yet. Just rolls it between her fingers. The promise of a smoke is enough to curb the cravings, if only slightly.

When the car stops Amalia expects to be dismissed. 'That'll be all Ms. Samson, you start on Monday,' or something to that effect. Silph is clearly busy, and it's not like she'd booked a time for this little tete-a-tete of theirs. It's then a pleasant surprise when she's given the choice to stay. To take a look around.

"I think I would like that very much, Mr. Silph," she says, smile turning into more of a smirk; yet somehow still growing more smug and self-satisfied, "You wouldn't mind terribly if I smoked, would you?"

She asks the question while exiting the vehicle, carefully turning in her seat to put heels to the concrete outside (click click) before standing -- cigarette already hanging from her lips by the time she's stopped speaking.

[attr="class","spiral"]"The only names I can come up with on the spot," Amalia replies to her companion's observation. Voice playful and smile a bit wider for her ability to pick out the bit of trivia.

A beat of silence passes, just long enough for Amalia to regret putting out her cigarette, before the other woman speaks again. Gives her a distraction strong enough to keep from reaching in her pocket for a fresh one.

"How could you tell? Was it my unmistakable brand?" she answer's the woman's question, a sarcastic humor to her words, "Yes, I am an astronomer. More so than I am most anything else, I think."

Well that was maybe a bit more dramatic than she intended it. Amalia doesn't bother to be embarrassed or amend her comment. Instead she finally does reach in her pocket for a cigarette.

[attr="class","sunshine"]Materials then," Amalia practically purrs. It doesn't escape her attention, that he doesn't just promise her the money and let her do with it what she pleases. She doesn't take it personally of course. Silph has already proven himself the cautious type, and she's much too excited to have funding in any form to so much as bristle at anything he says.

Already she all but bounces in place with energy to work. With thoughts of what she'll be able to do with a benefactor as glorious as the CEO of Silph Co. All she has to do is make good on this first bit of research . . . What's the best way to do that? Her eyes glaze over as she runs through the improvements she can make on his tab and the best ways to use them to save time.

Just how soon can she make herself indispensable?

"Hmm?" his follow-up comment pulls Amalia out of her musing, "Ah, of course."

Her smile widens, deep dimples pushing into her cheeks and crinkling the corners of her eyes.

"Honest, generous, and loyal . . . I could see myself agreeing to quite a bit for such a promising partnership."