Being on the furthest side of the car than the opened door, the pear-shaped man starts scooting. "Hey! Hello, everyone!" He says.

Off his seat, over the middle, and — finally — onto the one closest to fresh air. It's an awkward series of hops and scoots. Made more so thanks to him holding a tablet in one hand and constantly pecking at it with the other.

He kicks himself up and out to stand beside the driver — three heads shorter. "Sorry for the intrusion. Mister Ishii's got an urgent appointment downtown." He punctuates the sentence by looking up from his screen.

Waylon holds the man's gaze. "Joel. Got to grab something first."

Thea darts her eyes between the two men. Not for me? But— but what about him? What're they going to do?

Scenes flash past like the changing channels of a television. Mob shows she'd catch glimpses of; the way they dealt with their own family. She tenses. Should I try to stop them?

Joel prompts his tablet with a tap and a clock appears. "Fine, fine, mister Ishii. That should be fine. I've got a few words for miss Aalberg, after all. But be quick. As I said: this matter is of the utmost urgency. Utmost."

The sound of her name sweeps away any concern for Waylon. She jerks her head to Frank.

The monk's face is stone. He tilts his head near, loosing braids to cascade and dangle past the chair's armrest. "Don't worry. I'll be right here." He whispers.

The assurance does little to reseat her innards.

Joel starts toward them, but just a few steps and he stops. Considers. After a moment, he wheels around and — lowering his tablet a fraction of an inch — he addresses the driver. "Mister Hersh, please watch mister Ishii while I handle this. We can't lose track of him again."

'Handles?'

Mr. Hersh bows and peels away, clutching hands behind his back.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Joel closes the distance and cradles the tablet to his chest. "Now, miss Aalberg. How are you this evening?" There's something about the way he looks at her. Something that makes the question feel sincere.

Thea looks to Frank for a hint at what to say. He has none. Instead, he stares at Joel — unblinking; waiting.

She reaches up and pulls at one of her curls. "Uhm— I— fine. I'm fine. Confused. S-Scared to be honest."

"Who could blame you?" Joel pouts, careful to divide his attention between Thea and Frank evenly. "First mister Ishii, then us showing up out of no where. And after how hard the last few weeks have been for you?"

"You know that?"

"Of course! We had to keep our eyes on you in case mister Ishii reached out. Though, I admit we weren't as rigorous as we should have been. We'd missed the fact that you set up shop out here. My apologies regarding your apartment, miss Aalberg."

"Th-thank you. Is that why you wanted say to me?"

He whips his tablet away from his chest and taps the screen a few times. "In part. My employer is quite pleased with your performance at the aquarium." He flips the tablet around. "In particular, my employer appreciates your silence regarding this matter. There are a shortage of people who understand discretion these days. Even more so, you've got a power we'd find useful. Holding that in mind: we've had two disparate contracts drawn up."

Upon the tablet's screen is a document full of text and blank lines to initial. In its header, "Employment Contract". He swipes and a similar document appears, but reading "Non-Disclosure Agreement" across the top.

He takes a long look past her at the mechanic's shop. "Now, the choice is entirely up to you, miss Aalberg. My recommendation? Employment. You could go far in our organization and it'd be a shame to see that potential squandered. Dare I not mention, your financial problems would be relegated to the past. Albert — my employer — sends their apologies for the loss of your apartment, by the way. And for not being able to present this offer in person. Circumstances and all."

The contracts crawl into Thea's mind like a swarm of cockroaches. She scratches at phantom itches and stares at unending lines, mind too busy to parse meaning. I have to accept the job, right? They'll kill me if I don't, won't they?

Her heart thunders in her ears. A warning; a confirmation; a challenge. One that, before today, would be too scary to stand against. She wrings palms around her cane. "S-sorry, but can I choose neither?"

Joel sighs. "I'm afraid not, miss Aalberg. You don't have to worry: we'll respect your choice. Even if you decide not to work with us."

She glances to Frank. Without turning his attention from Joel, he nods once. Curt.

Her hands tremble. She breathes, trying to calm them. It's fine. Frank is here. He said it's okay. I'll be okay.

"So, t-the non-disclosure. Where do I sign, exactly?" She says.