"Showin' that they need a push. They know their brats are here but need to experience it," Hatchette says. "It ain't fully registerin' in their heads or they're that dissociated with reality."
"We need to make an example out of one of them," Raul says.
"Exactly," Hatchette says.
Everyone in the room nods except Shard.
All the members of the Grounders sit in an orderly room that Shard, Hatchette, and Raul watched the other members clean. It took the members around an hour to clean their mess and reorganize the room. They sit in a circle with Shard sitting behind the uprighted desk - Hatchette and Raul at his sides.
Every eye is on Shard. He shifts his jaw. His eyes focus on invisible thoughts. Hatchette and Raul are right. The others are right to agree with them. But for an example, he needs to wisely choose which brat to use. He runs the faces of the Politician Committee through his head - all their reactions to the pictures, what was said, and the ones left out. A few brats come to mind that would be best to use. Shard nods.
"After lunch, I'll be back with our example," Shard says. "Meet back here in an hour and a half. Raul, send out the message to the Committee, telling them when we'll be available to stream. They miss the window, they miss another day to get their babies back. Let them know that. Have Techie double-check the security of the stream before we go live."
"Who gets Techie?" one person asks.
"I will." Hatchette volunteers. "A little conversation and Techie will get what's goin' on."
Shard nods. "Let's move."
He leaves last and closes the door behind everyone. His chest tenses up. He had been hoping for a different outcome. Deals were supposed to happen yesterday and earlier today, but he is not surprised about the delay. Sighing, he makes his way to the cafeteria area to pick up his and Octavia's rations for the day. She will eat faster today, so he'll have more time to figure who will better elicit the reaction the Grounders need to move negotiations forward.
Thoughts of the upcoming negotiation taunt his mind. He turns his thoughts to the lunch he carries. Rapping his fingers on the covered tray, he remembers the old movies his dad would put on for the camp. They were filled with words, terms, expressions, and technology Shard did not understand at the time, but his dad and many others would mostly get - making Shard feel further left out. His father eventually understood this so, before movies would start, Dae-jun would pull Shard aside to explain all the terms and tech he remembered and knew from the film he would play that night. This helped Shard bond with his then new Chromy family. One of the sayings his dad taught him seems appropriate for the present situation. "Soup's on!" Shard hits a finger on the cloche to make it sound as much like a dinner bell as possible when he makes it to the cell.
An empty and a third-empty water bottle sit next to Octavia on the bunk. Shard gives a side eye to Tam who avoids meeting his eyes as Marque unlocks the door. She intentionally made Octavia wait as long as possible for the water. Tam waited too long to not be caught.
Octavia's wide, shining eyes stay on the plate. A smile forces its way to Shard's lips. Seeing Octavia's begging face and knowing this spoiled brat depends fully on him brings some enjoyment but not enough to raise a sincere smile. "Someone ready for lunch?"
As Shard slides the tray onto the table, Octavia scrambles into her chair.
He uncovers the tray. "Today's m-"
Octavia snatches a potato cake from the tray. Shard blinks in the direction of where the cake was and looks at Octavia. She takes several bites from the cake and eats it furiously.
"You took that confidently. I'm not sure if that was the poisoned one or not," Shard says.
Octavia takes one more slow bite and swallows. The cake lowers to her lap as she flashes unblinking, wide eyes at Shard. A fleck of fried potato sticks to her lip.
Shard maintains a serious composure until the potato fleck tickles him too much. Laughs double him over. "They...They're not poisoned," he manages to say between laughs.
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Octavia lets out a "Hmph!" as she takes another bite and another.
Shard contains his laughter for a minute to warn her not to eat too quickly. "You'll get sick and lose all that food ya need." He's breathy as he speaks. Tears bubble in his eyes. He flicks them away. What a well-needed laugh.
Shard takes his potato cake and peanut butter-covered celery to make sure he would get food. Octavia did not slow her pace of eating but lessens the amount she eats with each bite. He doesn't want to risk her taking his food. But this food is going to be a challenge to eat. The thought did not cross his mind how the exposed peanut butter could make a mess in his mask. He eats the celery first while Octavia occupies herself with her food. If his mask happens to slip while he tries to avoid getting peanut butter in it, Octavia won’t notice.
Octavia finishes her food as Shard finishes his celery.
Shard tears at his potato cake. "Well someone was hungry."
Octavia's eyes narrow and glint. Shard smiles.
"Have any of our ransoms been paid yet?" Octavia asks.
Shard swallows. "Always straight to the point."
"Tell me."
Conversation drags on. Shard gradually unfolds how the Political Committee refuses to do anything and negotiations aren't moving along because of them. He omits their pending plan of an example. Octavia insists their refusal is due to the lacking photos, which was, in part, true. But Shard never gives her vindication.
When Shard finishes his food, he's about to collect the tray and leave but decides to fish the comb out that he has in his jacket. He gives it to Octavia to comb her hair and watches in amusement as she comes to figure how to comb her own hair. The shorter hair helps her to figure it out and lessens the amount of snags. Shard takes the comb from her and debates for a second to get items for her to shower. He decides against it since he already procrastinated by watching Octavia learn to comb her hair.
Shard blows his kisses to Octavia and warns Tam to not kill her.
Tray tucked under arm and cloche twirling around in his hand, Shard has narrowed it down to two potential brats as he makes his way back to the Caf area to return the materials. His jaw tightens. The cloche spins faster. High pitched laughter interrupts his thoughts and tracks.
A hoard of children come pouring out from a room into the hall. "Shard!" the children cry as they rush him.
The long route to the Caf goes through the children's wing.
One kid jumps and hangs on his arm. Another takes the cloche from that hand, puts it on her head, and spins around. A little boy jumps on Shard's back. A girl hugs him as a boy steals the tray from him.
"Oh, no!" Shard says. "Children! My greatest weakness." He slowly falls to the ground and gently pins the kid on his back to the ground.
The boy giggles. "You're crushing me!"
"Can't...move...too many...children." Shard flops his free arm around.
The boy is slipped from under his back. Shard lets himself fall completely to the ground. Children tackle him. They all laugh except for the nanny who had taken the boy from under him.
She puts the boy down and claps her hands. "Niños! Niñas!" she calls the boys and girls. "Let the man breathe! Get off him."
The children moan and pout.
"No fun," one kid says.
Shard sits up, criss-crosses his legs, and crosses his arms. "Yeah, no fun." He pouts like the children.
A few giggle at his silly mimicry.
"Please don't encourage them," the nanny says. "They were just settling down."
Shard laughs as he stands. The children run up and down the hall. They play with the tray and cloche. The little girl who had hugged Shard hovers around. He waves her over. Her feet scramble to his side. She clings to him. He pats her head.
The nanny puts her hands on her hips and shakes her head as she watches the children regain their energy. Her eyes soften as she looks to Shard. "Another hard decision?"
Shard sighs and shakes his head.
"It's okay to get reminders," the nanny says. "You're welcome over here anytime, except nap time."
She and Shard chuckle.
"But I've heard talk," she continues. "I know ya need to get going." The nanny waves the little girl over to her. "Ven aquí, Sophie."
Tangled hair. Paled skin. Tired eyes. "Ven aquí, Shard." Loving eyes. Long hug. Silent tears. "Te amo, mijo. Para siempre." Sweat, chemicals, and breath smells.
Shard blinks the memory away.
Sophie plods over to the nanny and clings to her trench coat.
"Good luck, Shard," the nanny says. She calls the rest of the children over and has them return the tray and cloche to him. "Tell Shard, 'See ya later'."
The children messily chorus, "See ya later," and take turns hugging him. They shuffle into the room they escaped from earlier and crowd in a window, faces smushed against each other, to see him off. The nanny ushers the last child in. She waves to Shard. He waves back as she closes the door.
Out of sight of the window, Shard takes a deep breath and nods to himself. He holds his head up. He sets his jaw. His heart aches. He knows which brat to use as his example.