Taran paced back and forth in front of his open closet in hopes of picking an outfit to wear for the night. He was fresh from the shower, towel still wrapped around his waist, and with a toothbrush hanging from his mouth. He muttered and pulled out a couple of shirts, throwing them onto the bed. Suddenly none of his clothes seemed good enough.

"You're overthinking this, you idiot." he thought to himself. "It's not like this is a date or something,"

Taran had tried his best to not make it a date. After walking a woozy Ronnie back to the trainee wing, he frantically called Maya and Lydia to check their plans for the evening. He was sure that he wouldn't feel so awkward if the girls came along. No luck. Lydia was stuck pulling an overnight Control shift, and Maya told him that under no circumstance was she going to be a third wheel.

"Go have fun!" she implored Taran, talking over his protests. "Just make sure to tell me all about it when you get back!"

So it was just Taran and Ronnie. Out on the town and with no official business to discuss. Taran was convinced the entire thing was going to be a disaster. The previous week had been full of training sessions and formal lessons. Nice, comfortable subjects that safely insulated Taran from any personal topics. Would they even have anything to talk about away from the training grounds?

Taran ran to the bathroom to rinse the toothpaste out of his mouth. Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror, he was surprised at how out of sorts he looked. "Get a hold of yourself," he told his reflection. Taran squinted his eyes. A tightly focused wind whipped around the front of his head, pulling damp tangles of hair away from his face. Satisfied with how it looked, he rushed back to his bedroom to get dressed.

He settled on a light blue button-down and slim-fit khakis. Maya called this his "hot preppy boy" outfit. Possibly overkill, but perfect for the summer night. Taran rolled up his sleeves in the mirror and took a deep breath as he gave himself one final check. Convinced there was nothing more he could do, he grabbed his wallet and headed for the trainee wing.

Ronnie opened the door as soon as Taran rang the bell.

"Aw hell, you look really nice!" He said, "I haven't had a chance to bring much here, so all I had is what I wore this morning." He awkwardly tugged at the collar of his dark grey henley.

"It's great!" Taran said, too eagerly. There was a pregnant pause as the two stood at the door for a moment. He fought against his nerves. "Um, shall we get going?"

They left the building from a side entrance primarily used by folks living and working at the Syndicate headquarters. The sun hung high in the early summer evening, leaving them with plenty of time before it got dark. Rush hour traffic was beginning to crawl around the square.

Taran was enjoying the fresh air, but a few blocks into their walk suddenly realized he had no idea what to do next. "So... what are you up for tonight?" he asked.

"I don't know about you, but I'm starving!"

Taran laughed. "Post-manifest munchies are no joke! Gotta fuel up after using all that energy."

"Where do you suggest we go? I'm not really familiar with this part of town."

Taran led them a few blocks away to a tiny Indian restaurant tucked between two larger buildings. The facade was painted a cheery yellow, and a wrought iron fence surrounded the small patio out front. "This is one of my favorite places," he said, leading Ronnie inside. "They have a sambar that's almost as good as my grandma's."

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They were quickly seated at a quiet booth in the corner. The smell of spices wafted from the kitchen door while a woman at the front of the restaurant played traditional music on a sitar. Being in a familiar place immediately put Taran at ease. He had been coming to this restaurant with his family for years. Often for celebrations, like when Taran passed his provisional exam. It was also the place to go whenever his mother was feeling particularly homesick. The comforting dishes managed to brighten his spirits as well. It dawned on Taran that the little restaurant was just about the most perfect place he could take anyone that wanted to get to know him better.

Their booth in the corner was secluded, but Taran made a quick scan of the room to make sure they wouldn't be overheard. "So, what did you think about your first week? Pretty cool, yeah?"

Ronnie's eyes lit up. "It was hands down the most difficult yet awesome week of my life." He laughed. "All of the training, the cool secret headquarters, actually getting to meet Zephyr!" He stopped short. "Oh, sorry, Taran. I'm sure you don't need me geeking out about your mom…" he trailed off, biting his lip with worry.

Taran appreciated Ronnie's restraint but realized it might be better to move past this particular hurdle. He sighed, "All right, Ronnie. In celebration of your success today, you can ask me questions."

Ronnie gasped in surprise. The words sputtered out: excited, rapid-fire questions came one right after the other. Taran laughed and put up a hand to stop him.

"Alright then, let's start from the beginning."

Taran gave an informal history lesson by explaining how his parents met. Crimson Cosmonaut had been in London on a mission where he first ran Zephyr, who was tracking the same villain. Cosmonaut had just started getting an international profile but knew nothing about London. Whereas Zephyr --who had grown up in the city-- had all sorts of helpful insider knowledge. They teamed up, eventually taking the bad guy down. Months later, Zephyr followed a lead to Liberty City and sought out Crimson Cosmonaut, who returned the favor of acting as a local guide. Realizing that heroes were only as good as their support networks, they helped build the Syndicate of Heroes and became two of its founding members. By that point, they had also fallen in love.

"The wedding was fairly high-profile at the time, and the media event was used to garner public support for the organization in its early days. We don't do that kind of thing anymore for obvious security reasons. It made my parents even bigger targets once villains started to use their relationship as leverage."

"Which would explain why it's not common knowledge that you're their son," Ronnie said, thoughtfully.

"Exactly right. Can you imagine what would have happened if bad guys found out Weather Boy wasn't just Zephyr's sidekick, but her kid?" Taran shuddered, "I would have never lived to see fifteen. Since then, the Syndicate's learned to keep better secrets. My parents aren't the only married heroes in the organization, you know. And I'm not the only child."

The dinner conversation came easy and soon bounced around to other topics. Ronnie and Taran shared their favorite movies and hobbies before drifting to more hypothetical topics.

"If you could travel anywhere in the world, where would you go?" Taran asked. He reached towards the basket of naan on the table and tore the last piece in two.

Ronnie took a piece of bread and thought for a moment. "I've always loved the idea of Paris," Ronnie said. "My mother had studied there for a bit in college and always wanted to take us there as a family. We, um, never got the chance to go."

"Oh, great choice! I've been there a couple of times. Family trips. My parents would take my brother and me when they had to do diplomatic work. It's a beautiful city."

"I didn't know you had a brother, what's he like?" Ronnie asked.

Taran's voice hitched a bit. "He was… complicated." He gave a little smile, and then deftly changed the subject. "No reason to bring the night's mood down," he thought to himself.

Dinner wrapped up, and the pair found themselves wandering through the city district. Taran was happy to play the role of tour guide, pointing out sites that Ronnie hadn't seen before. Coffee shops that the trainees liked to frequent, dark clubs where bands would play on the weekend. The sun started to dip low on the horizon, casting a beautiful pink glow over the city.

"Come with me," Taran said, leading him down a couple of side streets. Music flowed through the open windows of a nearby cafe, along with the sound of people laughing inside.