The air was cold and frigid in the lower levels of the fortress, but for a soul that was made entirely of ice, it had very little effect, if any at all. Kimblee kept her hands in her pockets as she strolled along carelessly behind her ‘cold-hearted’ commander through the icy, tunnel-like hallways of the Briggs base. The woman’s long blonde hair swayed back and forth, following the motion of her thick coat that draped lightly around her shoulders, but Kimble ignored it, her gaze focused straight ahead. The ‘prisoner’ they were going to visit was less of a prisoner and more of an inconvenience, she reflected. Ever since that absolute fuck up back in the city, the commander had been pissed beyond belief, and the cause of all the commotion and subsequent failure of a relatively important mission certainly didn’t do anything to improve the Mother Bear of Briggs’ attitude any.
If Kimblee were a lesser woman, she’d probably have been a little scared for her life, but as it was, she’d bore her punishment (A rather brutal dressing down, followed by a good few hits with the flat of a sword that nearly had her forgetting her own name) with stoic acceptance. The silence in the hallways, save for the thud of boots on steel, was a bit unbearable, but again, this Kimblee bore with a quiet acceptance, knowing that the anger and thoughts brewing in her commander’s mind were things she didn’t want to stir up or get stuck in the middle of. She’d let her save up everything for that nuisance of a woman that currently sat in a high security prison cell in the very bowels of the Briggs fortress. It didn’t take them long to reach the cell, and the guards standing in front of the heavy doors moved aside instantly at a single look from the icy bear of a commander before them.
Kimblee was always so impressed with Olivier’s ability to move mountains with a single look, and even when they stepped into the room, facing a cell where a woman was being kept, bound with the highest grade cuffs and metal they could find; there would be no multiplying hands here, not unless Olivier decided to release the woman. Kimblee stopped just behind her commander, a smirk on her face as she gaze into the cell. “You.” Olivier’s voice startled even Kimblee, but the alchemist wisely said nothing, knowing it would be all Olivier from here on out. “Tell me what you are.” The voice of the commander of Briggs was as cold as her heart, and it brooked no arguments. “And give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you.”