It was something of a surreal sight. Caoxoch, in a bathrobe, was sitting opposite a scarred Space Marine, who was only wearing his pants. He was bent nearly double, a tiny paintbrush in his giant hand as he carefully applied nail polish over the horrible talon-like things the Inquisitor wore over her nails.

"I shall paint aconitum blooms on the ones that contain the toxin, Inquisitor," the Space Marine rumbled solemnly. Clearly, this was one of those situations, where no one had informed the eight feet tall posthuman warrior that what he was doing was a sign of decadence on many planets. To tell the truth, Nathaniel rather suspected that Space Marines were rarely informed of such things—if a person, who can smash your head in without trying decided they want to do something, few people felt brave (or suicidal) enough to try dissuading them.

"Thank you, Brother Clemantis," Caoxoch replied. Then she turned her head towards the entrance and gave Nathaniel and Kharon a long measuring look through her lashes. "You're early."

"How-?" Kharon choked out.

Nathaniel decided to let him ask—he was quite sure that if he'd contribute, it'd all end up in another long pointless winding conversation, during which someone would get painted with nail polish that contained toxin, and that would be a waste of Emperor's Inquisition.

Caoxoch and the Space Marine both turned towards Kharon, identical expectant looks on their faces. The Space Marine was missing the tip of his nose and one ear.

"Where did you find a Space Marine who can paint nails?" Kharon managed. "And where did he learn it?"

"From Sergeant Drummond," Brother Clemantis answered in a sepulchral tone.

"The Escher Marines practice nail painting as part of their doctrine to never go unarmed," Caoxoch explained with a hint of smugness.

"Are you implying, what I think you are implying?" Nathaniel asked, his brow knotted in a frown. His mind was already supplying him with the image of Caoxoch grilling some hapless Administratum drone into providing her the list of habits of various Chapters involving make-up. It was a very vivid one—the drone was thin and pale as fish's belly, with a bald head. His bloodshot-eyes were wide with awe and fear, as they gazed longingly at the forbidden promise of Caoxoch's bossom (which owed part of it's size, it seemed, to wonders of brasserie). Meanwhile, the Inquisitor gazed down at him, as she explained why the fate of the Segmentum rested on the fact that she needed to know if the Blood Angels really did use shampoo produced from the rare algae that only grew in the oceans of Talassar.

"I don't know what you think I'm implying," Caoxoch answered. "Surely, it is entirely reasonable to seek out servants of the Emperor, who understand your methods of serving him. And I happened on the essay of Chaplain Lucretius on the most effective ways of filling one's nails purely by chance."

"Brother Chaplain found the remarks Lady Caoxoch made on the application of toxins in nail polish quite intriguing," Brother Clemantis contributed solemnly, as he carefully worked on one of Caoxoch's talons.

Nathaniel couldn't help but to notice that the Space Marine's nails were filled to a point and painted in a bright shade of red with tiny golden blobs over some of them. Blessing Magos Thantos silently, he activated the magnifying function of his occular implant to discover that the blobs were in fact tiny aquilas rendered in breath-taking detail.

"So, Nathaniel, Kharon," Caoxoch said with a cool smile. "Would you like to join me?"