'Oh? ' Aedan sank into thought, barely restraining his brow from furrowing. The invitation had been incredibly vague, to say the least, and now that he gradually grew aware of what it could've meant... This meeting was too sudden, too public... Could this man have discovered something?

He meticulously considered the unlikely series of events that had brought him here tonight- placing particular emphasis on the previous months leading up to tonight's repair order. His mind furiously sifted through a nearly endless library of stored information, a product of his disciplined eidetic memory. He thoroughly reviewed every recent conversation, digital correspondence, or look he'd received in the corridors on or off the job. Scrutinizing anything and everything he'd previously outright dismissed as unimportant and thought he understood, nothing was off the table. He examined those dozens upon dozens of instances for anything out of the ordinary while simultaneously trying to establish a connection, any connection, with what was currently happening and how it could all possibly be related. He came up short. The realization sent a chill down the back of his neck- a grim solemness settling over his usual blasé bearing.

He wasn't willing to consider the idea that all of his extensive efforts were for nothing until he was sure that someone was moving against him. However, he could also count the number of times he'd paid hell for ignoring his instincts on one hand. He intended to keep it that way.

He planned on moving forward with extraordinary care from this point onward. And, if events managed to escalate beyond his control, there were still a few contingency plans he'd meticulously arranged over the years. But unfortunately, they were far from his current position.

'And why wouldn't they be?' he scoffed to himself- how could he have ever considered that he would suddenly find himself in such an exclusive position aboard an orbital penal mining station? The chances of it happening were so infinitesimal relative to the other Indents' situations that he'd never considered factoring it in. A potentially costly oversight with a price tag he felt he couldn't afford at the moment.

Aedan's dour aura vanished as quickly as it had come. In contrast, his expertly practiced expression hadn't deviated in the slightest to reflect even a glimpse of the war raging behind his curious eyes- the only thing anyone saw, the only thing anyone could see, was a surprised, tired young man whose posture and doe-eyed look shouted: 'I'm out of my depth!' Which is precisely what he wanted them to see. Someone whose shoulders were weighed down with the burden of a uniform that didn't seem to fit quite right. And with a body language and expression that showed uncertainty and a slight sense of meekness, declaring he wasn't a threat. He wasn't somebody that merited more than a glance. He was one of them. Something uninteresting, unimportant, a known quantity. Just another face in the crowd going about their daily routine despite feeling out of place. He was nobody. He went to great lengths to maintain that public image of himself.

'There must be something else going on...' Aedan affirmed to himself. He wasn't one to ignore the truth or indulge in the warm complacency of self-delusion; however, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was jumping at shadows. This could lead to the very thing he wanted to prevent the most. Nothing indicated anyone knew something about him or his past, so until he knew one way or another, nothing had changed, and he would continue to play the game. What else could he do?

Renée looked over at the booth in surprise, giving a surprised "Oh!" before twisting back around to face Aedan, taking in his wide-eyed expression that made it seem like he wanted nothing more than to already be halfway out the door.

She gave a warm, comforting smile, placing a hand on Aedan's arm. He started momentarily from the contact, his eyes tearing away from the booth and looking at Renée.

"Go on then, sweetheart, best not keep the S-H waiting. Sorry for keeping you," Renée said, to which Aedan timidly mumbled a "thank you." Renée gave his arm a gentle squeeze and mouthed 'good luck' with a compassionate smirk before turning and casually going over to the small kitchen in the back corner- thinking nothing more about the matter and wanting to get the young man's order in as soon as possible. She already considered Aedan to be another overworked, newly promoted employee here to meet with the Section Head to discuss matters regarding the station's many businesses and inner workings. This sort of thing was incredibly common-place around dinner time, and higher-ups were a dime a dozen around here.

Aedan cleared his throat and squared his shoulders, settling his previously nervous features into a tenuous mask of assuredness as he 'subconsciously' smoothed down his new uniform before walking to the secluded booth in the other dimly-lit back corner of the room.

Aedan stopped a short distance from the table.

Since the booth was tucked in the corner, the table's shape strongly resembled an equilateral triangle, with all its sides possessing a soothing curvature fitting nicely with the café's aesthetic. The prominent, shadowy figure seated in the booth now more closely appeared like the person he'd seen on the video call. The closer proximity removed a few layers of ominous mystique as even the man's eyes only seemed to glow instead of burning faintly.

"Section Head Monson," Aedan respectfully intoned, standing at something of a comedic rendition of attention.

Brence grunted and inspected Aedan, "How's the uniform?" he gruffly asked.

"Excellent, sir."

"The room?" Brence asked, crossing his large arms across his chest.

"Likewise, sir- unlike anything I've ever seen."

"Mm. Good," Brence nodded after a pause.

"So," he made himself more comfortable while resting his hands on his thighs and leaning deeper into the booth's backrest, the material creaking beneath his weight, "-what do you think?" he motioned to their surroundings, "-and speak freely, you're my guest. So you can drop the honorifics. I insist."

"Yes, s-" Aedan winced, then continued, "-yes, t-thank you. This... well, hah, um, it's no section five cafeteria," Aedan awkwardly chuckled, practically tripping over his own words and almost unable to stop himself from shifting from foot to foot.

Brence silently regarded Aedan with unblinking eyes before cracking a half-smile and saying, "That it isn't. Please," he indicated a place in the booth.

"Uh- thank you!" Aedan respectfully inclined his head before sliding into the booth- as far opposite Brence as he could. Then, he allowed some happy surprise to show as he looked down and felt the seat, making it abundantly clear he admired the booth's apparent luxury.

"That's real Pazuzu, shipped straight from Ranxu, if you can believe it," Brence remarked, allowing a bit of pride to seep into his voice. Aedan looked up in shock, "You're kidding?!" he softly exclaimed with disbelief, glancing back down at the fortune he was sitting on- running a finger down the silky-smooth material.

"Afraid not."

Aedan sheepishly smiled and readjusted his posture in the booth to sit up straighter, saying, "Incredible. I want to thank you again-" Aedan sincerely began speaking, only for Brence to hold up a hand.

"It's all right, no need," Brence shook his head, then grew incredibly serious, the previous levity on his face disappearing without a trace as he made eye contact with Aedan.

"But let's get down to brass tacks... Why do you think I asked you here?"

"I- well…" Aedan broke eye contact, looking at the tabletop instead, "I don't know..." he trailed off, hoping that Brence would pick up the pieces and assemble a general picture for him.

Sadly, he had no such luck.

"Humor me," Brence deadpanned. A cold, unyielding presence in his tone that brooked no room for discussion.

"Um, okay. Um," Aedan blinked a few times while his uneasy expression underwent a series of changes.

"Well, if I had to guess," Aedan continued, "probably something about the irregularities in my personnel file?"

Brence placed a hand flat on the table, tapping the surface a few times with a finger as he silently regarded Aedan, who seemingly couldn't help but fidget under the scrutiny. This went on for nearly half a minute before Brence stopped tapping, and wearily sighed.

"It's almost saddening, really," Brence he said.

"-that you think your act is fooling anyone."

"What-"

"Enough, Mr. Sones," Brence spoke with mocking emphasis, "-you can stop pretending."

"Sir, please," Aedan pleaded, "-there's been some misunderstanding! I don't know-"

"I said, enough!" Brence growled through gritted teeth, then composed himself.

"Do us both a favor and drop the play-acting. It's insulting," he adopted a firm tone missing that previous burst of anger. He reached into a shirt pocket and removed something, which he placed on the table between them.

Aedan's heart nearly skipped a beat as his anxiety shot through the roof.

Brence moved his hand back to reveal a small, plain Netdrive interface.

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"Wayne Bertson," he slowly enunciated every syllable.

The cold fingers of dread squeezed Aedan's stomach in a vice-like grip.

"Jose Torra," Brence continued, unflinchingly watching Aedan's every reaction.

Everything was coming apart. Aedan's ears started softly ringing.

"Jesse Parker," Brence bit off every word, staring silent daggers across the table. "Should I continue or not...? Mr. Avin?"

Aedan immediately considered every possible means of escape, including what he could use as cover or a weapon to get to the door. However, Brence's following words stopped him cold.

"Easy there, tiger," Brence spoke placatingly, his overbearing attitude gone, "I know this must be coming across as quite the shock given the amount of... legwork you've put into this identity. But I still only invited you here to talk. To talk. This is not an execution."

Brence could tell that Aedan was still unsatisfied with that, but he also hadn't made a move, surprisingly. There was a chance if he kept going. It was a chance he was going to take.

"Don't believe me? Mm. Why would you, I guess?" he rhetorically muttered, then pointed out, "Think of it this way: why would I allow witnesses?" he tilted his head toward the small kitchen, "-and more to the point-" he leaned his forearms onto the table, "-why would I let you know my suspicions instead of dealing with you?"

Aedan may not have responded, but the naïve kid who had previously been sitting across from Brence was gone—replaced with a stern-faced, cold-eyed, and extremely dangerous man who was on the verge of letting hell loose. The fact that 'Aedan' hadn't immediately lashed out and made a move to escape meant they were getting somewhere. Slowly.

"There he is," Brence whispered, looking at the man across from him as though he were truly seeing the person he'd been waiting for.

"-nice to finally meet you, Mr. Sones."

Aedan's cold gaze turned positively frigid. Even Brence couldn't suppress the slight shiver traveling down his spine when looking into those eyes. They were dark, still... dead. Brence smirked grimly, choosing to ignore his instincts and forge onward.

He cleared his throat, "Good. I'm glad we've both dispensed with the niceties. Now, hear me out," he flattened a hand on the table, "We both know you could kill me before I could reach my gun. I mean hell, you're a one-man army, kid."

He leaned back and crossed his arms across his chest, a solemn look coming over his face as he stared through the center of the table, letting out a humorless chuckle.

"...I would know... I captained the Andan Sprinter during the Battle of Lahmu II. But you… you people certainly don't make things easy."

Aedan didn't respond.

Brence broke out of his reverie, shaking his head, "So please, treat this conversation for what it is: an extension of my good faith. An olive branch," he tapped on the table.

"I'm taking this seriously. I'm taking you seriously."

He could tell that Aedan was still thinking about how to dispose of his body, so he tried a different route. One he understood well in his decades with the Navy.

Brence frowned, speaking with conviction, "I need to make one thing perfectly clear: I do not trust you, Mr. Sones. So please don't confuse my intentions."

"This isn't about establishing trust..." he shook his head, "no, what I want..." he sat forward and interwove his fingers, "what I need," he emphasized, "-is for us to come to an understanding."

"I need to know that your time here," he motioned, "isn't a cover."

"I need to know that this station, and its people, are safe," he stabbed a finger at the table.

"If you can persuade me of that, then this-" he placed a large palm over the Netdrive, "-can disappear. And I won't approach you about this ever again."

The pair fell into a tense silence.

"...Why?" Aedan finally broke the silence in a soft, chilling tone.

"Why? Why what?" Brence frowned, a sense of unease growing as he wondered if his decision to approach this man with rationality might not have been the best choice

"Why not kill me?" Aedan asked, the question's simplicity belying its weight.

Brence sat back into the booth, silently regarding the young man sitting across from him with much more respect and careful consideration than he would for anyone else, maybe even more than his superiors. He tapped the table with a finger, a thoughtful look on his face.

"Honestly? I don't know, kid," he shrugged, "-maybe I've gotten soft in my old age. Maybe I've seen too much over the years? Who knows."

His gaze sharpened, and his tone dropped.

"But I do know that right here, right now... my gut is telling me to give you a chance. One chance."

Another tense silence hung over the pair like a guillotine.

"...I'm not here for that," Aedan finally replied, meeting Brence's eye.

"No? Then why?" Brence's brow rose in surprise, almost like he hadn't expected that much of an answer. Or at least that he would've needed to pry much harder for any substantive response. Aedan's cold eyes turned considerate before responding, "...Reasons that... won't hurt anyone."

Brence sniffed in disbelief, leaning back into the booth, "And I should just, what?- take you at your word, then?" he scoffed, demanding more. Then he leaned in again and motioned between them, "-what if you were in my position? Would you do the same?- blindly accept the word of a...?" he questioningly trailed off, eyebrow raised.

Aedan expressionlessly shrugged, "...I guess you don't have much of a choice. Not unless you want to avoid something... we both want to avoid."

Brence's complex expression slowly softened until he smirked sadly, whether at his misfortune or the absurdity of it all.

"No..." he shook his head, "No, I don't suppose I do, do I?" He ruefully smirked and looked at the table between his hands, letting loose a deep sigh. Aedan silently waited, watching the man across from him for even the slightest signs of aggression. Brence, however, eventually dropped his hands into his lap and simply looked at Aedan.

"What about..." he trailed off, a conflicted look on his face.

"Are they still...?" he left the question hanging between them.

"Inert," Aedan gently shook his head.

Brence's eyes widened; the news left him pleasantly surprised. "Huh," was all he said, seeming to have significantly relaxed more with that out of the way.

"So... what now?" he curiously asked.

Aedan silently considered before responding, "...Business as usual?"

Brence quirked an eyebrow, considering. Then gave a half-smile.

"Business as usual, huh?" he softly reiterated, "Mm. Yeah," he nodded, "-yeah, I can do that."

And the next moment: "Here we are, gentleman!" Renée's strong voice suddenly interjected as she arrived with a small tray with two plates of steaming, delicious-smelling food. She placed the whole tray onto the table, removed the plates one at a time, and placed them before her customers.

"Thank you, Renée, this smells wonderful as always," Brence smiled, his entire demeanor shifting into a kind, wizened man as he loomed over the plate to whiff the fragrant food.

"Oh, well, you know, Manda," Renée said, playfully patting Brence's shoulder, "-she takes so much pride in her cooking. Too much sometimes, if you ask me," she said in a hushed whisper, cupping one side of her mouth with a hand.

"It's Manda tonight, huh? Well, if you would please excuse me, there's much work to be done!" Brence guffawed as he grabbed a fork and knife from the place setting Renée had brought along with their food. Renée smiled as the Section Head aggressively tucked into the meal, then looked at Aedan mischievously, "So boys, how was the talk?" she wheedled them for details.

Brence grunted, wiping his mouth with a napkin and setting down the fork, "-the kid's a natural and with an amazing track record to boot. I've decided to offer him a position in the upper sections with a talent like that," he glanced at Aedan before going back to eating.

Renée smiled, "A diamond in the rough, huh? Lucky you, Section Head. All right then, I'll leave you growing boys to your food. Call me if you need anything else- and our drink special tonight is an imported Th'Cale Red if you so choose," she turned and walked back to the kitchen.

Brence leaned out of the booth, calling after her retreating backside, "That's Mr. Section Head to you! Oh, and bring a bottle of that!"

"Right away, Mr. Section Head!" she laughingly called over her shoulder.

Brence's eyes smilingly followed her before resting back on Aedan, his expression turning stern as he pointed at Aedan's plate with a fork.

"Go on, eat up; I’ve already added you to my roster, so you're in for quite the day tomorrow- enjoy it while you can," he said before taking a forkful of some glistening meat dripping with sauce.

Aedan looked down at the food, its delicious smell and appetizing plating reminding him of his hunger.

He picked up his place-setting and slowly unrolled it silently under Brence's watchful eyes.

----------------------------------------

Aedan silently stood outside the door to his room, looking down at the tips of his new boots with a blank look- his tall, unmoving figure and broad shoulders outlined by the door's frame. He stayed that way for minutes. Small groups of people would occasionally walk past him, stealing glances at his back with weird looks as their unintelligible whispers and rhythmic footfalls echoed through the otherwise silent corridors.

The Section Head's parting words, however, echoed louder.

He slowly looked up from his boots and focused on the small biometric lock beside the door. With slumped shoulders and a distant gaze, he lazily extended an arm and placed a thumb on the screen. The surface turned green, and the door softly slid open.

The room's dark interior was suddenly illuminated with a warm orange glow. Aedan, however, stood there, unmoving beyond the threshold, numbly peering into the lavishly decorated room through heavy-lidded eyes. If someone were to walk by at that moment and look over his shoulder, their jaw would probably drop. Expensive furniture, ample space, shelves and desks teeming with needless amenities, a comfortable bed with layers of sheets, and a doorway leading to a private washroom were all visible from the entryway. The improved quality of life on display was enough to incite jealousy in even mid-level administrative citizen staff, let alone Indents.

But he saw this room for what it was: a leash. An agreement. A manifest representation of their bargain.

He stepped over the threshold and stood beside a small wardrobe set into the wall beside the bed; the door softly slid shut behind him. He proceeded to absently strip off his new uniform, not particularly thinking about anyone or anything. His movements were almost mechanical- lacking feeling of any kind; he did it because it was the next step before showering and going to sleep, and it needed to be done. Now wearing nothing but his undergarments, he walked into the washroom and went to activate the water, only to pause when he caught a glimpse of himself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror set beside, and partially over, the hand-washing station in an inverted 'L' shape.

He saw a young man with an athletic build falling somewhere between slender and muscular, though with some apparent muscles in his upper body and thighs. A strong chin and a somewhat defined jawline highlighted his face, though he'd always hated how it seemed like he could never lose that last bit of neck fat.

It was silly, and he knew that. But he could never let it go for some reason. His face was rather drawn and plain, with decent proportions, a slightly aquiline nose, the beginnings of a 5 o'clock shadow darkening his otherwise clean-shaven look, and his mussed black hair that fought every attempt at styling. Then there were his eyes- as icy blue as deep space.

Despite his best efforts and long hours of practicing in the mirror, something about his gaze either attracted or frightened people. Even if he did his utmost to express sincerity and attentiveness, someone always accused him of being cold or callous.

His skin was rough and pale, something common among those who spent their lives toiling away at hard labor beneath artificial lights. What stood out in stark contrast to his already pale skin were the dozens of even paler lines that meandered across his torso and arms, crossing with other old scars and causing noticeable puckers where they intersected in some places on his shoulders and lower abdomen—a diagram of his past.

Aedan raised his right arm to his face, emotionlessly eyeing a particularly noticeable scar tracing the length of his forearm in a crescent pattern. He slowly clenched his hand into a fist, the well-defined muscles of his arm bulging in response. The scars stretched as his fist shook.

He silently regarded his reflection. It stared back, just as silent. Just as frustrated. Just as inhibited... With unspoken self-loathing.

He carelessly dropped his arm to his side and, without breaking eye contact, gave his reflection a painfully rehearsed smile that barely reached his eyes.

It smiled back just as happily- laugh lines creasing its cheeks.

Just as carefree.

Just as relaxed... With confidence.

Expressing things he hadn't felt in a long... long time.

He gave himself a wink and left the bathroom.

He and his reflection turned their backs on one another, taking different routes to the same destination.