Insubordination

Even though Haelvia's savior was blanketed in living flames, she recognized its form. 

It was, without a doubt, Divine Armor Lancelot.

But... the Duplicarius... he called it--

"That's... an affirmative," The green-haired pilot tilted his head, "'Talks-With-Fire' is the name of this Divine Armor... Regardless, I say again: Echo-Four-Libra, do you require medical attention?"

"H-how?!" Haelvia half-stood up and shouted at her console, "How did you learn that Divine Armor's name? L-l-loki had been his pilot for--"

"Answer the question, girl," Tychon frowned. 

Haelvia grit her teeth, her cheeks flush. 

It wasn't the time for questions. 

The combat zone was still very hot-- and that was besides the fact that Lancelot now-Talks-With-Fire was literally aflame... and that all of Haelvia's exposed skin was burning with a half-dozen emotions.