It was time to put the plan into action.

Well, sort of.

A good plan is like theater. There are parts, roles, and a whole lot else you've gotta manage, but most importantly, you had to have a stage, which in this case was a place where the two could feel comfortable, or else the rest of the play would be a bust.

The three continued to reminisce about days past amidst the astir music and glinting lights, with me occasionally chiming in when I could. It wasn't part of the check per se, but it helped lighten the mood and set the stage for our plan. A calculated calm to prevent a storm in a sense.

"How has your playing been lately, Fable?" Myla asked, looking at the concealed instrument as she inquired.

"Getting better, but I'm still stuck as our rhythm guitarist." The young woman replied as she fixed her own messy locks with the help of some of Myla's inventory.

"We should come by and hear you guys play sometime. That is if our schedules ever allow it." I chimed in, my partner nodding in agreement.

"That'd be great!" Gale exclaimed, "We could give you some tickets to our next performance."

"Oh, really? Sure, when's-"

"Or you could buy them." He then cut me off, halting my gratefulness with his blunt statement.

"Oh? Yeah, that's fine. I'll head to the front desk and-"

"Yeah. Please." The young man continued, awkwardly stringing together his words as he looked at us blankly, "I'm sorry, student loans don't pay themselves." He remarked, deadpan if not truly dead inside as all life left his now colorless eyes.

I held back my laughter, looking away and closing my eyes to keep my composure as I realized I had fallen right into the joke.

At this rate, he'll steal my role as comic relief! That'll, like, leave me with three redeeming qualities.

"Humorous as ever, Gale," Myla remarked, and when I opened my eyes again, I was greeted by her disappointed expression.

"I'm not joking. Please send help."

A charming laugh halted our antics as Fable spoke, "Ah, getting to talk like this makes me wish Alex was here too - no offense, Bridger."

"None taken. I've got thicker skin thanks to this one." I answered, placing a hand on Myla's head, which was promptly swatted away.

"Speaking of," Gale began, "To think Alex managed to get promoted first. Did your personality really hold you back that much?" He joked, brave enough to poke a bear and grin.

"I'm actually quite happy with my station, thank you very much," Myla replied, furrowing her eyebrows though clearly playing along.

"Really? I think you'd make a great executive." Fable interjected, an intrigued expression on her face as she imagined the silver surveyor as part of the top brass.

"Flattering, but I prefer being a surveyor. I'm most at home working out here - I'm a people person, after all." She answered, eyes closed with a gentle smile of pride as she took a drink.

None of us said a word.

The only sound that was at the table was the faint noise of the ice cubes in Myla's drink, which sounded deafening in the absence of words.

"...Uhm..." My partner realized the quiet, looking at the three of us, "I can make jokes too, you know?"

"...If there's something you want to tell us, we'll listen, okay?" Fable comforted her, reaching her hand out.

"We'll listen to you just like you did for us." Gale continued, his deep voice tinged with warmth, "You too, right Bridger?" He added, looking at me.

Myla turned to me, a subtle call for help in her eyes as she realized we were taking the piss, "Myla, my dear partner," I put a hand to her shoulder, feeling a slight warmth through her uniform, "You know...You're right. You're a wonderful people person."

She tried to defend herself, "I- Guys, I meant-" But it was no use as she conceded with an exasperated sigh, getting all of us to finally end the bit and share a laugh.

Myla composed herself as she took a breath of the alcoholic air, but even from a glance, you could tell she was still recovering from being ganged up on at her weakest.

"All things considered, at least they managed to find you a partner so quick," Gale switched his gaze from Myla to me, kindness filling his dull orbs, "Seriously though if you're doing this against your will, blink three times." He suddenly stated hastily, somehow seamlessly combining dread and sarcasm in his eyes.

I raised an eyebrow before grinning, "Myla," I blinked once, "would," then twice, "never! And then a final time as I faked a laugh.

Gale joined me, and my once fake laughter turned to one of genuine amusement.

Huh, I kind of like him.

"In all seriousness, though, thanks for keeping Fable company. I'm happy to see her in good hands." The young man added, leaning closer to his other half as he expressed his gratitude.

"Don't mention it." I responded, which acted as a cue for Myla to pull out her clipboard and the pair's documents, "Anyway, with all that out of the way, let's get the actual show on the road, shall we?" And so we did.

It was pretty standard from here. Ask about the past month, notable developments, key events, upcoming plans, et cetera, et cetera.

Their answers didn't raise any suspicions either. Nothing out of the ordinary except maybe for the fact Fable was being a little passive as Gale was providing most of the answers - and very positive ones.

This, plus our banter from earlier, painted a rather lovely picture surrounding the pair of Gale and Fable Glenn. It was one that stayed true to their story and the descriptions of previous surveyors. And yet, one that contradicted the words Fable shared with us.

Just what was going on within Gale's head? He had to be aware - he just had to be. After all, I was too.

"Alright, that just about does it." I said, closing the folder in my hand and confirming with Myla, who was jotting down notes, "Congrats! You guys have survived another month."

"Thanks for having us," Gale spoke - his answers, while possibly deceitful, his gratitude and smile undoubtedly guileless, "If that's all, we'll be going-"

"Oh, before that, we just wanted to ask some other stuff. Is that fine with both of you?" I asked, taking the initiative to begin our actual operation.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

"We just need to confirm a few things before we leave for our next client," Myla added once she placed the clipboard on her lap, backing up my statement to lay a reasonable foundation for us to ask our questions.

The young man turned to his partner, who shrugged with a carefree smile, adding, "We've got time, so why not?" Her words seemed to convince him as he sat back down.

Thanks for the support. We'll take it from here.

We had to make sure we chose our words carefully. We wanted to have Gale realize and commit to our plan without suddenly forcing it on him, or else he might refuse, and that would be it.

We needed him to reach the same conclusion as us, that he needed to change and that we could help him.

Simply put, there was no helping someone who didn't want to help themselves.

"Have you been stressed at all lately? Any more so than usual?" Myla was the first to speak, inquiring about Gale, as even though we were acting composed and natural, she likely knew he would be more comfortable answering her over me.

"Oh, uhm," He stuttered for a bit, though Myla's professional yet casual tone seemed to work, "Not really, around the normal level for a college student. Which is still a lot." He replied, adding a joking statement at the end with a chuckle.

"Well then, that's good to hear," My partner began, noticing the chance to try and inch him toward the goal line as she sensed his slight hesitance, "With all you've got on your plate, we just had to make sure." She finished, smiling all throughout to ensure Gale's hesitation didn't turn to suspicion or anxiety.

Before resuming, Myla took her still chemically colorful drink, taking a small sip, "Even to us, it's quite the workload," She continued to speak - but my senses became focused elsewhere as I noticed her other hand moving under the table.

Hidden from the soft lamplight above us, she was writing something on her clipboard - her handwriting neat and typewritten even without looking.

I tried to do that back in high school during lectures. That's how I discovered while I could neither speak nor understand Arabic, I could write it.

That aside, squinting a bit, I could make out what the inked writings denoted. I could read the words "Your turn." and "Act carefully." on the shadowed sheet as Myla continued to speak, perhaps to keep their attention while she quietly told me what to do next.

You got it, boss.

I took a breath and closed my eyes - the subtle scent of violas and the aroma of booze filling the cold air as the sounds of voices - both conversational and singsong, filled my ear in the brief moment I took to compose myself. And once I opened my gaze to the dark walls lined with gleaming neon, it was my turn.

But before I could direct my attention to our clientele, I felt a slight nudge from under the table. I looked back down to see a new pair of words written on Myla's signature article.

"Good luck."

Myla finished whatever she was saying right as I took in her words, meaning it was my turn, "Right, Fable!" I exclaimed, looking at the young woman with a perfect smile, "Same question, how 'ya been?" I asked, contrasting Myla's unwavering cool with a casual friendliness.

"You guys visit me, like, every day," She began with a laugh, tilting her face a bit in amusement.

But while she looked happy, she paused for a moment before continuing. As a surveyor and perhaps any interviewer should know, body language says a lot.

From her shifting eyes to her slight fidgeting, even if we hadn't talked to her, there's no doubt we would've noticed. And there's no doubt we'd help them all the same.

It seemed she was considering her words and the truth they held before replying - a response that was for Gale and us.

"Well, you know," She finally began, closing her eyes, "What did I ever have to worry about?" And she opened them once she answered, her tone still joyful but her eyes tinged with sadness.

"Ah, I see." I replied, my voice trying to best maintain its optimism, "Happy to hear." I added, turning to Myla, who seemed to also notice her fleeting sadness as she began writing down some notes.

That was the problem. When it seems like there's nothing to worry about, you get complacent and you get ignorant. I understand Gale, to some degree, the refusal to acknowledge things and desire to keep moving forward blindly and hope for the best without actually doing anything - heck, the fact I'm here working this job is proof of my regret. But Fable was different. If I could relate to Gale, could the same be said for Fable and the other person hurt by my inaction? Who knows. The answer didn't really matter because now I knew what that person was thinking even if they had honeyed their words for their partner. I knew, even if it was just a glimpse, what they felt and what they truly wanted to say.

That settles it, then.

I decided to continue, even though, at this point, it would seem a little odd; I had to make him realize, "Not that I'm prying, but Gale," I paused, the young man turning to me, curious.

"What is it, bud?" His murky blue eyes glinted as he looked up at me, unquestionably kind and filled with warmth.

And undoubtedly conscious of the problem.

I shook off my thoughts as I spoke, "With the band, school, and married life, I'm honestly surprised you're keeping it together," I asked casually, but even I could tell my delivery wasn't perfect as my mind spun.

"Oh, yeah." He began, an ever-so-slight furrow in his brow appearing, "It's a miracle and a half it is." And the tone of his reply also changed - hints of worry lining his words.

It seemed he wasn't budging even once I got a bit blunt.

Still no use, huh?

"Bridger..." I could hear a whisper from beside me utter, even without looking, I knew what Myla wanted to tell me.

Act carefully.

I took a moment to regain some composure, but it did little as my mind continued to fill with harsh memories and a particular emotion, "Look, not to overstep, but it really is a lot - you're not overwhelmed at all?" I asked, pressing forward even more and slowly, consciously losing subtlety.

He began to form a reply, but his face seemed stuck, trying to process just what I was doing, "Uhm, look, like I already told you-" And before he could speak, I cut him off.

"Fable? What do you have to say?" I stated, looking at her with weight in my usually nonchalant expression - but still using a calm and sympathetic tone with the tenderhearted young woman.

Her reaction was...mixed, "...Well..." She began to speak, her expression an inexplicable mix of relief, anxiety, and whatever else she was feeling at the moment.

Maybe I overdid it.

But before she could continue, her other half's words rang out in the quaint club's walls first, "Fable? Why are you asking...This isn't a routine check, is it?" Gale spoke, his voice dropping an octave as he reached our conclusion - just not how we intended.

"Sometimes I really wonder how thick that head of yours is..." Myla quietly commented, frustration apparent on her face as she pinched the bridge of her nose, "Shut up and listen - was that not clear enough..?"

The place went deathly silent. Even the unceasing rock music of the store felt like it melted into an echoing white noise that shrouded our table. Around us, people paid no mind as it was if time had only paused for us, and the rest of the world continued to spin. The scents and tastes that once flooded my senses with bitterness and sweetness were gone as only the painfully dry air filled my lungs. The atmosphere remained cold on my skin even as noon approached, as the sun could do little to pierce the thick winter cirrus, yet something hot continued to course through my veins.

"Myla, I..." The young man looked at her, saddened by what must've felt like deceit as he faced his old friend, "...We'll be taking our leave." But instead of saying anything, he bit his tongue and stood up - the grating sound of the chair moving like nails on a chalkboard after the prolonged silence.

No, not yet.

I gritted my teeth and stood up as well, my sudden movement jerking my seat and the table, "Come on now, Gale." I got his attention, though the look on his face was anything but conversational, "Let's be adults here. Running away won't solve anything." And once he heard my words, it was as if his visage was trying its hardest not to contort into anger.

Those words...Were they for him or for me?

Gale's jaw nearly dropped as he processed my statement, "What the...Running away?" He paused as bewilderment filled his eyes, though I assume some part, if not most of it, was actually bitter realization, "What do you even know about anything?" He bit back and glared daggers at me as if I struck a nerve.

"I know more than enough to say that if I were you, I'd sit my ass back down and actually talk." I was going overboard - I knew that, yet something compelled me evermore forward.

Maybe I couldn't stand his attitude, or my concern for Fable blinded me - perhaps I was just in over my head. Guess I should've listened to Myla, huh?

"I don't have to talk to you about something that neither matters nor exists." His anger was no longer hidden.

In fact, it was all I could see, "Judging by how defensive you are, it sure as hell does matter."

His sharp features were now accentuated by his furrowed brows, and his earlier light skin was flushed with color. He was no longer welcoming and mellow as his sand shook frigid while he eyed me with contempt.

And yet, his eyes...For some reason, it still calmed me like a warm memory.

I'll make it up to you two. I'm sorry.

But for now, in the state I was in? I couldn't.

"Why do you care so much anyway? Just because you talk to her here and-" We continued to bicker, with tensions escalating as much as our voices did.

Isn't it ironic? All my talk about understanding him, yet here I was, fumbling along as I barely communicated with him.

Exactly what was I doing? "Because you don't care enough." I continued, swallowing my thoughts as emotions clouded my judgment.

And so even the winter air could do little to soothe the heat of our confrontation as unease and anger both equally welled up within me.