It was not for one night.

The second night she was with me, she lasted twenty minutes before 'sneaking' out of her temporary room. A whopping five minutes longer than the previous night.

We had spent that second day quietly settling in, and, simply in case of emergencies, introduced Cinder to my neighbours. Epsilon Heights was home to a variety of different households, from elderly couples to students to human-faunus couples and everything in between.

In my case, my neighbour on one side was an elderly Faunus gentleman, Mr Winston. He had what lookVed like dog ears and greying hair, and was always impeccably dressed, even first thing in the morning or some unholy hour of the evening. From what little he had told me in our occasional meetings, he had once been part of Special Operations, but had retired when the previous General had done. He was a pleasant man, if a tad eccentric. But given most Greys ended up with some sort of eccentricity, that was to be expected. And let's face it, doesn't everyone wish for a badass retired spy for a neighbour to some degree?

On the other side, my neighbours are a group of University students. Whilst none of them were training to be Huntsmen or Huntresses, they were all smart and mature enough to understand the bare-bones version of the circumstances that brought Cinder under my care. And given how much they were cooing over Cinder, getting them to look after her should the need arise was almost certainly...well, certain.

Now, early on the third day, I found myself quietly removing boxes out of the 'Room of Many Boxes', in preparation for the delivery of furniture for Cinder's room. Thanks to the miracle of flat pack furniture, it wouldn't be too difficult to get her room ready for that night. The red paint that Cinder was so eager to select would only take about an hour or two to dry.

I had let Cinder continue sleeping. Firstly because in my eyes, she could do with more sleep. And secondly, because in all honesty, it would be a lot easier to move boxes without a small child following me around. Sweet though she is, Cinder is only five. I'll get her to help with painting, but it was probably a good plan to let her watch whatever passed for children's TV here as I put her furniture together.

It was after I finished moving the last box out that I found Cinder, now awake, staring at my bookcase, full of the many random books and leaflets I had either collected or had coalesced on my desk. Most were informational, but the odd one or two were fiction. It was odd, seeing what passed as fiction in another world. But it was entertaining, nonetheless.

"Morning Cinder." I greeted cheerfully, and crouched down next to her. "What are you looking at?"

"The books, Mister Casper." Cinder replied. "What are they about?"

Knew that was coming. "Lots of things, Cinder." I explained. "Some of it is for work, others are for pleasure reading. A smaller number of them are fiction..err...stories. Most of it is about history"

"Oh." The small child had an odd look on her face for a moment. "What is it you do, Mister Casper? For work?"

I blinked, and took a few seconds to decide on my wording, to make it easier for her to actually understand. That was how my grandmother would answer my questions when I was a kid myself, and that was how I always made an effort to copy.

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"...I am part of the Military Archive." I eventually told her with a calm smile. "Or rather, I write about military operations and decisions."

She looked at me with wide eyes but before she could reply, her stomach grumbled loudly. An embarrassed look swiftly appeared on her face.

"...Want breakfast?" I asked with a barely concealed grin.

"Mhm! Yes please, Mister Casper!"

___________________________________________________________________________

Albus Hawthorn, Senior Captain of the Air Fleet eyed the Lieutenant that stood across his desk from him with a mildly irritated expression. He himself was stout, bald, and mustachioed, and wore the green highlighted uniform of the Air Fleet.

On his desk was the report that Ironwood and an Adjutant had written, and it was this report that was the source of his irritation.

"I am no fool, Lieutenant Ironwood." Hawthorn sighed as he began speaking. "I am able understand what isn't being said."

"I...am certain that I do not know what you mean, Sir."

"Cease being diplomatic for five minutes, James." Hawthorn snapped. "I am referring to the fact that 'Child Sacrifice' is implied yet not overtly mentioned. I would know why."

"...Because I believed it to be..indelicate." Ironwood said in a careful tone. "It is not something I would assume that the Board would want implied to be happening in Solitas, right under our noses, Sir."

Hawthorn stared at James, before nodding in agreement once. "Acceptable."

Silence fell upon the office for a full minute, as the two soldiers held each other's gazes.

"This...Archivist Schwartz. The one that is caring for this 'Cinder Fall'." Hawthorn began. "...Trustworthy?"

"..From what I have seen, Archivist Schwartz is entirely trustworthy, sir." Ironwood replied. "Nothing he has done, to my knowledge, indicates otherwise."

"..Good. You never can tell with those Archivist types. Always ready to 'edit' history when it gets..inconvenient for the higher-ups." Hawthorn grumbled before letting out a sigh. "Go on, you are dismissed, Lieutenant Ironwood. Atlas thanks you for your service in this matter."

The younger man snapped off a salute, and turned to march off.

"Oh, James?"

"Sir?" Ironwood paused at the door frame.

"Fiona Moss has announced her intention to retire as Headmistress of Atlas Academy. I have put your name forward to replace her." The Captain shrugged. "Although frankly, your election to that position is decidedly unlikely, I'm afraid."

Ironwood stayed silent for a few moments, before inclining his head. "..I am grateful for the consideration regardless, Sir."

"Hm..dismissed, Lieutenant."

Hawthorn watched Ironwood close his office door and straightened out his uniform. He tapped a few buttons on his keyboard, and cleared his throat as a figure appeared on his computer screen.

"..Albus?"

"...Ozpin." The Captain greeted with a nod. "Something's come up. We need to talk about the Fall Clan."