CVN-80 USS Enterprise Combat Information Center
A collective sigh of relief permeated the Combat Information Center of the Carrier Enterprise. Every officer and Meowfficer at their action station exhaled, a palpable wave of tension dissipating as news of the successful Antarctic operation confirmed no casualties. It was an outcome few had dared to hope for, especially given the inherently audacious nature of the raid on the Siren Facility in such a desolate, hostile environment.
Enterprise-80 herself, despite her stern demeanor and the dimly lit room filled with the glow of computer monitors and the low chatter of Meowfficers, harbored deep concerns about the mission's potential failure rate. Her worries, however, remained well-hidden behind her professional façade. The only one truly attuned to the underlying unease radiating from her was Spock, who had sensed this particular tension countless times throughout his career within the CIC during critical operations.
"A successful raid at one of the Siren Facility with such a small team?" Queen Elizabeth mused aloud, her voice carrying a note of genuine surprise. "This is indeed the first such raid to be conducted successfully and without a single casualty. I must say, I am quite impressed by their performance as a unified team."
"You are correct, Your Majesty. This unprecedented success could significantly boost the morale of our forces, inspiring them to undertake similar raids on other Siren Facilities scattered across the globe," Wales voiced her agreement, seeing the strategic implications.
"Indeed. We need more public relations victories like this to satisfy the people on the home front," the Queen affirmed, thinking of the broader political landscape.
"It may, or it may not," Enterprise-80 interjected, her concern evident. She worried about the public's potential reaction to the grim reality of the rescued prisoners' harsh treatment.
"And why is that? This is precisely the right opportunity to inform them of our success," Queen Elizabeth inquired, a hint of confusion in her tone.
"The populace is not ready to handle the full truth, Your Majesty. Such information could reignite deep-seated hatreds among former Crimson Axis members who have recently allied with us. Discrimination remains a persistent issue in many nations, and this news might very well escalate those existing tensions. There are certain truths that, for the sake of stability, must be kept from public knowledge," Enterprise-80 explained, her voice grave.
Queen Elizabeth pondered this for a moment. The current situation of the Allies was favorable, but if this sensitive information were to leak, it could shatter trust and potentially drive those newly allied nations back into the Crimson Axis's sphere of influence. This was not her first experience with the delicate art of withholding secrets from the public.
"Very well," she finally conceded, her voice heavy with the weight of the decision. "The details of this mission must not, and will not, reach the ears of the public."
Her serious tone then shifted, becoming more pragmatic. "How, then, are we to report this? The media will undoubtedly demand a significant scoop."
"Leave the papers to me, Your Majesty. I know a few avenues through which they can be adequately appeased," Enterprise-80 said with a confident, almost knowing, smirk.
T-AKE 12 USNS William McLean, Infirmary
The man rescued by the Manjuus from within the Siren Research Facility had been in a truly dire condition. He was beyond the scope of conventional medical help, but the advanced treatment capabilities and sophisticated medical instruments aboard William's ship enabled him to slowly recover and regain some semblance of strength.
He remained significantly weakened by prolonged starvation and the insidious experimentation conducted on his body. Both William and Vestal were diligently tasked with monitoring the man's condition and meticulously analyzing any alterations to his DNA.
The analysis of the altered human cells, or "Semen" as it was informally referred to, revealed astonishing results. William was genuinely surprised, realizing that such a profound modification to human DNA could only be achieved by technology at least a hundred years more advanced than anything known on Earth.
"So what does all that mean?" Vestal asked, observing William throw his hands up in an expressive gesture, a look of profound surprise plastered across his face.
William lowered his hands. "Apologies, my bad.... I'm just astounded that the Sirens managed to achieve such a sophisticated modification."
"Like what, precisely...?" Vestal pressed, eager for more details.
"The combination of human cells and Siren cells forms these Hybrid Siren Minions. The Siren cell remains dominant, certainly, but the human cell stabilizes the Siren's existence, allowing them to live more like humans," William explained, seeing that Vestal was carefully following his scientific exposition. "That means they possess a lifespan similar to humans, and critically, the aquatic abilities found in other Sirens are suppressed, as these hybrids are intended to operate on land."
"It means they can be drowned by water and couldn't survive without air," Vestal surmised, grasping the implications.
William pointed his pen at her. "Precisely."
"Hah! The minions got nerfed," Essex-12 scoffed, seemingly pleased by this vulnerability.
"Yes, they essentially become cannon fodder," William confirmed matter-of-factly.
"Any report on the rescued man?" Enterprise-80 inquired, her voice cutting through the casual banter, bringing the focus back to the immediate results of the tests conducted.
William navigated the brief, eerie silence, then grabbed a data pad and began to read the prepared report.
"According to the tests I conducted, the man's DNA was untouched. The Sirens did not perform any alterations to his blood or body. He was solely there to provide... sustenance to the Siren Den," William said, emphasizing the last words in a way that seemed to trigger a shared reaction.
'Really, old-man? 'Siren Den'?' both Essex-12 and Arizona thought simultaneously, sharing an unusual moment of synchronized thought.
"Do you have any other way to name it other than that?" Arizona asked, clearly put off by the chosen term.
"What? That's quite an odd way to put it, but it seems to fit the description, doesn't it?" Queen Elizabeth mumbled, finding the term somewhat apt.
"That is quite an explicit term, if you prefer it that way, Your Majesty," Hood commented, maintaining her characteristic composure.
Enterprise-80 merely nodded, preferring not to complicate the terminology further. "What about the man's nationality?"
William flipped to another page of the report clipped to his data pad. "The DNA results confirm his identity as an Eastern European."
"Eastern European?... A Merchant Marine, perhaps?" Queen Elizabeth speculated, trying to piece together how the man might have ended up in Siren hands.
"It's highly unlikely, Your Majesty. Most of Mainland Europe's Merchant Marines travel closer to their Crimson Axis Allies' coasts. Merchant ships traveling between Europe and the Eagle Union ceased to exist at the start of the conflict years ago. It's highly improbable he was a Merchant Marine or a sailor," Hood countered, voicing her well-reasoned opposition.
They then turned their attention to Lexington, who was present in the room. Lexington offered her thoughts:
"He could have been one of our Merchant Marines or a Royal Navy sailor. Immigration to the Eagle Union has also largely ceased since the start of the war against the Crimson Axis."
Enterprise-80 cut in. "We currently have no definitive idea about the man's country of origin, and speculating further will not yield conclusive results. We must wait for the man to regain full consciousness and ask him directly about his country, and the others we rescue as well."
"I should check some files in the Eagle Union Merchant Marine log; I might find his identity there," Lexington offered before excusing herself from the room.
"That sounds like a good idea," Queen Elizabeth agreed.
"This man is also of Jewish descent."
Enterprise-80, Essex-12, and Arizona were visibly caught off guard by William's final statement. The Azur Lane Girls present didn't immediately grasp the full implications of what was happening inside the American minds, but they didn't need to ask. The sudden, palpable tension radiating from the Americans was enough.
"He's from Eastern Europe and of Jewish descent," Arizona muttered to herself, though her words were audible to everyone in the room.
"I think we all know who the culprit behind this mystery is," William said, breaking the heavy tension with a grim pronouncement.
Enterprise-80 turned her gaze towards the Queen, her face now serious, carrying an almost deathly aura. Queen Elizabeth visibly jolted in surprise, finding herself face-to-face with such an intense expression. She barely managed to suppress a shriek.
"Is there something you-you would like to—"
"I would like your Maids to intensify their surveillance on some of Iron Blood's shipping activities. I have a very strong feeling 'That Mustache Man' is behind this case."
"Mustache Man?" Queen Elizabeth repeated, clearly not deciphering the obscure moniker.
The Azur Lane World, unlike the modern era of Earth, had no prior knowledge of the historical jokes or satirical connotations associated with the Führer's distinctive mustache. In their timeline, much like in the grim reality of WW2, the mustache was simply a facial feature, not inherently comical. But in a more contemporary context... yes, that mustache, like the swastika itself, had become a symbol of too much recognition.
"Ad*lf H**ler," Enterprise-80 articulated, and the Queen's eyes widened in stunned surprise.
Bismarck's Office, Iron Blood Headquarters
Bismarck's office was meticulously organized, filled with reading material neatly arranged on shelves beside her imposing office table. At the table itself, Bismarck was deeply engrossed in documents strikingly similar to those she had reviewed two months prior.
These documents detailed the deportation of individuals whom The Führer had unilaterally deemed "parasites" to Iron Blood society.
She sighed, a familiar weariness settling over her as the same grim pattern repeated. These people were being forcibly removed from the country and sent to Greenland, a desolate, icy wasteland where survival was nearly impossible, even more so than the harshest winters Iron Blood had ever endured.
The first time she had heard of these deportations, she had voiced her strong opposition to the plan within the higher echelons of command. However, the responses she consistently received were always the same, boilerplate justifications: "It is for the good of the country of Iron Blood. And The Führer has decided that."
She had directly questioned The Führer about his deportation policies. As she had somewhat expected, he launched into one of his impassioned rants about the "parasite" Jews, whom he blamed for ruining Iron Blood during the Second Siren War. He recounted how many Army Commanders of Jewish descent, whom he despised for what he perceived as their incompetence and misjudgment, had ordered suicidal charges against entrenched Siren lines, leading to the senseless deaths of thousands of men, including comrades he considered family.
He spoke of seeing wave after wave of men sent to their deaths day after day, all for nothing, as the Siren Forces remained firmly entrenched. Thousands of Iron Blood soldiers, he claimed, died in a single day due to the reckless orders of their Jewish commanders.
He further articulated his belief that the Iron Blood economy had plummeted due to these "parasites" who were, in his view, improperly in charge of the country's financial affairs. He presented himself as a man who had personally experienced the brutality of the front lines, a man who had shared profound brotherhood and camaraderie among the common soldiers.
His rise to power, he asserted, was backed by the people who had fought on the front lines and by his former comrades in the army. As soon as he assumed the Chancellorship, the purges began. Those he labeled as "parasites" were dragged from their homes, publicly humiliated, their businesses boycotted, and segregation became institutionalized.
Other nations, such as the Eagle Union and the Royal Navy, expressed growing concern about Iron Blood's rapid descent into outright dictatorship.
To Bismarck, these narratives felt like distant memories from a forgotten past. Yet, the new, looming threat of the Azur Lane Alliance was undeniably casting a long shadow over Mainland Europe. This new threat was clearly causing The Führer significant anxiety—anxiety that kept everyone in Iron Blood on edge.
She placed the document down, having reluctantly affixed her stamp of approval for the deportation of more Jews from Iron Blood.
She stretched from her seat, having been confined there for over an hour. While she usually found a certain satisfaction in signing and reviewing documents, the physical toll on her body was becoming severe; her limbs were beginning to feel numb from prolonged sitting.
She rose slowly and approached the window of her office, seeking a moment of respite. She found a strange solace in the crimson hues painting the sky as the sun set, though even this tranquil scene was framed by the towering stacks of paper reports about Azur Lane piled high on her table.
She rested her forehead against the cool glass, her reflection clearly visible. To her surprise, her face showed distinct marks of stress.
"The successes of Azur Lane against the Sirens are accumulating... if this continues, many of our allies might switch sides.... What exactly are you doing, My Führer? We are losing ground here," she muttered softly to herself, careful not to let her true sentiments about The Führer's plans be overheard by anyone.
Deep in her contemplation, the door to her office suddenly burst open, startling her. She nearly let out a shriek, caught entirely off guard by the abrupt intrusion.
Z-23 stood panting, having sprinted from the Communication Room directly to Bismarck's Office. In her right hand was a deciphered transmission, undoubtedly from their spies embedded within the Royal Navy.
All formalities were discarded; the sheer weight of the message demanded immediate attention. Z-23, breathing heavily and sweating profusely, took a moment to gasp for air.
"What seems to be the problem, Z-23? Is there something of utmost importan—"
"Herr Bismarck!" she finally managed to articulate, her voice still heavy with exertion. "This is a transmission from our spies in the Royal Navy!" she announced, rushing towards the office table and thrusting the piece of paper into Bismarck's hand.
Bismarck quickly scanned the contents of the report. It described the successful capture of a Siren Base and Facility in Madagascar—news that was far from pleasant for the Crimson Axis powers. Her brows furrowed as she absorbed the details.
Z-23 continued, her voice exasperated. "If Azur Lane continues its string of victories against the Sirens, many of our allies who are already harboring doubts about the Crimson Axis's capabilities will seize this opportunity and side with Azur Lane!" She gestured emphatically. "Herr Bismarck... we nee—"
Z-23 was abruptly cut off as Bismarck slammed her fist onto the table. The paper in her hand crumpled as her fingers clenched. Lines of intense frustration formed on her forehead, her brows converged into a deep frown, and her eyes reflected a cold, furious anger.
This was clearly the kind of woman one should think twice about provoking.
"Tell the staff... I will require an immediate appointment with The Führer," her voice was laced with an icy fury. "Now!"
Z-23 stammered, "J-Ja, Herr Bismarck."
She spun around and hurriedly ran out of the office. Before fully exiting, she carefully closed the door behind her and then resumed her frantic sprinting down the hallway.
As her office door clicked shut, Bismarck slumped back into her seat, the weight of the news pressing down on her like a hydraulic press slowly crushing a plush toy. The past months had been punishing, to say the least. She hadn't anticipated the Azur Lane Alliance would so consistently steamroll the Sirens in this manner.
Because of these continuous victories, other members of the Axis alliance were indeed beginning to consider switching sides to the winning team. While these member countries were too small to significantly contribute to the Axis Armed Forces, their resource-rich lands were crucial for the Axis war machine.
"This phony war is truly taking a toll on our economy," she murmured in contemplation.
The Azur Lane Alliance was playing a strategic game of 4D Chess, not merely by directly combating the Sirens at their bases and secret facilities. They were now actively engaging in PSYOPs against the Crimson Axis. Many of the smaller countries and nations were seriously reconsidering their allegiance, thinking, 'Perhaps... perhaps we are on the wrong side of this Siren War....'
...
Iron Blood Hidden Dock
A colossal building, reminiscent of the Meyer Werft shipyard in Germany renowned for constructing cruise liners, stood as a testament to Iron Blood's engineering prowess. Its sheer height and width far exceeded those of the real-world Meyer Werft, designed to accommodate the largest of vessels. The dock itself was vast enough to fit two cruise liners side-by-side.
A single, gargantuan howitzer cannon could be seen on a railway, being meticulously unloaded: the infamous Schwerer Gustav Railway Gun, to be exact.
The Schwerer Gustav Railway Gun, with its astounding 31-inch (800mm) caliber, had been extensively modified. It was now capable of firing not only its immense shells but also powerful Plasma Laser Beams, remarkably similar to the devastating Orochi Plasma Cannons previously encountered.
The H-45 Battleship, currently under construction within this immense structure, was envisioned as the greatest asset Iron Blood could deploy against the Azur Lane Modern Warships. This massive battleship was so colossal that it made the Ford and Nimitz-class Supercarriers appear to be the size of mere light carriers. Its astonishing length, exceeding 500 meters, would make even the gargantuan oil tanker Seawise Giant blush in comparison.
An overhead crane slowly lowered its hook, and the vigilant Dock-Yard Workers meticulously attached it to the robust chains that secured the massive gun.
A Dock-Yard Worker, with signal flags in hand, waved to indicate the crane should begin lifting. The oversized turret of the H-45 Battleship, a design derived from Bismarck's own lineage, was slowly being fitted with the colossal Schwerer Gustav Cannon.
At the observation railing overlooking the meticulous work on the massive Battleship stood the Mustache-Man himself. He watched his creation, which he proudly called his "Wunderwaffe", convinced it would lead Iron Blood to ultimate victory.
This colossal warship was a testament to the combination of Iron Blood's ingenuity and critical thinking, now augmented by Siren Technology—technology that, by all conventional understanding, could not be matched by any other in their world. Or so everyone believed.
Siren Tech had once been overwhelmingly overpowered until the Americans, with their seemingly bottomless defense budget and vast taxpayer money, arrived in this world.
The tables had unequivocally turned. Now, Iron Blood and its Crimson Axis Allies found themselves desperately racing in the Technology Arms Race. The nation once hailed for its superior technology was now being outmaneuvered by the Eagle Union's accelerating digitalization. The Eagle Union's digitalization, if truth be told, was slow, akin to the glacial pace of American politics. Yet, despite this perceived slowness, the underlying foundation of advanced transistors was being meticulously laid, propelling them light-years ahead.
"My Führer," the SS (Shit Show) Officer spoke, interrupting his reverie, holding a transmission from HQ.
The Mustache-Man turned to look at the officer, who stood rigidly at attention, paper in hand. The officer continued, "Transmission from HQ, Herr Bismarck inquired about an appointment with you."
"Why would she inquire about an appointment?" the Mustache-Man inquired, slightly annoyed that his focus on his esteemed Battleship was being interrupted by administrative requests that he felt were beneath his direct authority.
The Mustache-Man muttered to himself, "How many times do I have to tell you..." he trailed off, clearly frustrated.
"Tell her she does not require my authority. She has her own. She can do as she pleases," the Mustache-Man declared with a dismissive wave.
"Jawohl, My Führer!" The Officer saluted sharply and immediately turned to head inside, preparing to relay the message back to HQ.
~Minutes pass~
A sleek, black Mercedes-Benz W31 glided into the shipyard's parking spot. The passenger door was swiftly opened by one of the waiting Officers, anticipating her arrival.
As Bismarck stepped out of the car, several Officers lined up, awaiting her acknowledgment. However, she had no time for pleasantries. Her expression grim, she strode directly into the vast shipyard.
The rhythmic clanking of metal echoed throughout the immense structure as her boots hastened her ascent to the observation level where the Mustache-Man was located.
"My Führer," she began, her voice calm yet heavy with unspoken urgency.
"Bismarck, why did you wish to meet me in such haste?... Is it another stack of Azur Lane reports?" The Mustache-Man asked, already anticipating the topic of their meeting.
"Ja," she paused, taking a deep breath. "I am certain you are aware of Azur Lane's ongoing activities... if this continues, we might find ourselves with very few allies and critical resources—"
She was abruptly cut off as the Mustache-Man raised a hand, silencing her. "This is merely a temporary setback on our side," he declared, then turned to face the colossal Battleship in the dry dock.
(Imagine the typical Mustache-Man speaking style, full of dramatic pauses and grand pronouncements.)
"When this magnificent Ship is finally completed and awakens as a Kansen... this setback will be but a fleeting moment! The world will then truly know our might and our unparalleled technological superiority. This Ship is the very vessel of our hopes for Iron Blood! And those fools who abandon us, who choose to turn their backs on us, will suffer the full consequences of our glorious rise!"
Bismarck stood motionless, listening to The Führer's fervent speech about their inevitable rise and his conviction that their current problems were merely temporary. But she knew that time was relentlessly ticking, and it remained uncertain whether the tide would truly turn in their favor or irrevocably flip against them.
Only time would tell if Iron Blood would indeed witness the future of their technological might shine brighter than any other nation in their world. She desperately tried to cling to the hope that The Führer's words were right, yet another part of her screamed warnings of danger and caution.
Siren Tech, to put it mildly, was incredibly complex and largely beyond their full understanding. It represented a hundred years of advanced scientific progress. However, the Modern Kansens' technology, surprisingly, often trampled that of the Sirens when it came to sheer practical efficiency and rapid innovation.
The concept of a "Proxy War" on Earth, even an imagined one, was what drove the relentless innovation and adaptation of all systems in their world. While a full-scale global war might have been averted, localized conflicts still raged in the Middle East and Continental Africa. This continuous tension, particularly the ongoing Cold War between China and America, was driving technology to entirely new, Sci-Fi levels.
T-AKE 12 USNS William McLean
The metal chair in William's office room on the ship shook violently as the one seated in it quivered uncontrollably, their entire body trembling as if being electrocuted.
Queen Elizabeth's eyes were wide with horror, fixed on the Wikipedia page displayed before her, its grim reflection visible in her dilated pupils. She could barely continue reading as words like "atrocities" and "war crimes" seemed to pile up, suffocating her.
What truly shook her to her core, forcing her from her usually prim and proper composure, were the death tolls: an estimated 80-100 million individuals perished in a single war that had engulfed the entire world.
This scale of death was shockingly similar to the Siren War, which had left every country in shambles. Many nations had failed to rebuild and subsequently collapsed; some were absorbed by more powerful neighbors, and others simply ceased to exist.
She pointed her index finger at the monitor, her hand visibly trembling. Her finger was aimed directly at the horrific death tolls attributed to the Concentration Camps. She had never conceived of such a colossal number of deaths being directly caused by the decision of a single man.
"D-Did he cause all of this?" Queen Elizabeth inquired, a high-pitched squeal escaping her lips as she stammered, utterly horrified.
She wasn't the only one shaking in their shoes. Every Azur Lane girl present was visibly shaken. They had never imagined such a monster could exist in the Modern Kansen's world.
"It-It can't be just one man with all those deaths, Th-that's impossible!" Enterprise-6 stammered, equally shocked by the scale of human-on-human warfare.
"This was not solely caused by one man, but rather by the collective decisions of each nation's leaders who participated in that conflict, which lasted for years. However... this extermination of Jewish people was indeed the singular decision of that one man," Enterprise-80 clarified, her voice grim.
"If this kind of barbarism is happening in Mainland Europe, why aren't we putting troops on the ground!" Warspite blurted out, unable to contain her righteous anger.
The distinct clinging sound of her broadsword hitting the metal deck caused everyone to jolt in surprise.
"She snapped," Arizona exclaimed, clearly astonished by Warspite's sudden outburst.
"Shit, our Corgi is angry!" Essex-12 muttered under her breath.
Hood gently placed a reassuring hand on the shoulders of the "Angry-Corgi," who appeared to be on the verge of erupting. "Let's not make hasty decisions here, Mistress Warspite. There must be some compelling reason why we are not yet deploying boots on the ground in Mainland Europe," she said, her voice calm and reassuring, matching her usual elegance.
Enterprise-80 let out a weary sigh as all eyes turned to her. "Listen," she spoke in a serious, commanding tone. "We cannot simply invade Mainland Europe on a whim, without a meticulously crafted plan and the correct equipment. If we were to rush our troops onto the beaches of France—"
She scoffed, correcting herself. "—the Iris Orthodoxy. Such an invasion would be even bloodier than D-Day itself.... I am not going to risk the few men we have. The invasion shall only commence when the right equipment and comprehensive plans are fully prepared."
Enterprise-80 was meticulously planning to ensure the invasion would not be as bloody as D-Day. LSTs (Landing Ship, Tanks) and various types of Landing Craft were her immediate priority, along with significant armored support. The reason the original Normandy landings were so bloody was precisely due to a severe lack of adequate armor, which led to astronomical casualties on a single beach.
Their "Little" Technology transfer—the continuous flow of advanced knowledge—would propel Allied technology decades ahead. Automatic Rifles would become the standard firearm for ground troops, and the armor... the "Tiger Killers" would soon emerge.
The men who had participated in this current Siren invasion would be recalled back to the Eagle Union Mainland and the Royal Navy Isle to train the new recruits who would eventually set foot on the beaches of Europe. Their invaluable experience in Amphibious Warfare and Urban Combat would form the core curriculum for these future soldiers.
"I do not need the perfect weapon to win the war; I just need the right weapon for the right war," she stated ominously, her voice filled with a chilling resolve.
Warspite visibly calmed down after hearing Enterprise-80's reasoned explanation. She couldn't argue with the logic; the well-being of their troops and the efficacy of their equipment were paramount.
"My apologies for my sudden outburst. My own sentiment led me to a hasty judgment," Warspite said apologetically, her fiery anger now subdued.
"I understand what you feel, Warspite, but the invasion is not something that can be rushed. The lives of our troops are of utmost importance in making the invasion a success," Enterprise-80 replied, her voice now softer, filled with understanding.
"What is your plan, then?" Queen Elizabeth inquired, having mentally pulled herself away from the disturbing Wikipedia files.
"For now," Enterprise-80 said, clasping her hands together, "we will focus on making our forces stronger before we step foot onto the beaches of Mainland Europe."
She then turned her attention to the Queen. "Your Maids, Your Majesty, will be crucial in this operation. The information they gather will be the very key to our success."
Everyone in the room exchanged solemn nods of agreement.
"Alright.... Everyone, take a rest. We're going to stay here for a while until all is secured. Dismissed." She concluded, and everyone dispersed to their designated positions, resuming their patrols around the Task Force.
In the office where the shocking revelation about the "Mustache-Man's" grim kill streak had just been made:
William knelt down, examining the slight dent and chipped paint on the metal deck where Warspite's broadsword had struck. He sighed, a faint frown on his face.
"This needs to be fixed," he murmured.
Vestal, standing beside him, spoke softly. "It's just a dent and chipped paint."
"Yeah..." he looked up, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Maybe a carpet would hide it. Any suggestions on the design?" he asked playfully.
"I'm not particularly skilled in men's décor, but... let's see what I can do to help," she replied, returning his smile.