Far from Grace / 3 /

The Concessions were bustling with activity, but Jonathan was caught in an eddy. Everyone around him seemed to slow down, shift away, and try their hardest to not look at him or the man across from him.

"You don't work for Golden Lion?"

"Not what I said, but did you honestly think that was who called me up? That I caught on to some conspiracy and the big boss lady gave me a bit of torture and a promotion to shut me up? That isn't her style… No, someone else wanted to talk with me."

Rook flexed his wrist and black coated nanites crawled down his wrist to form a pistol in his hand.

"There are benefits to my arrangement. They never let us touch anything like this in the Security Force."

Jonathan nodded, "I'm sorry, Rook, but after everything… I'm not going to go with you."

"You know what that means, right?" Rook's hand was not as steady on the gun as Jonathan remembered. There was a slight tremor in Rook's hand as he looked at his old partner. The gun was not pointed at Jonathan exactly but it was not pointed anywhere else either.

"Yeah."

Rook nodded, the gun vanished up his sleeve, "I'm sorry to hear that. I hope life here in Bleak Barrow treats you well, partner. I'll let them know that you're not a threat, I'll pull every string I can."

"Thank you, Rook."

Rook stood up and straightened out his suit. The thin lipped line of frustration that Jonathan was familiar with returned. "I am going to pull every string I can."

It was Jonathan's turn to smile, "I know. I understand."

Rook stretched his hand out to Jonathan, for a second Jonathan expected the nanite pistol to materialize and end his life. When no pistol appeared, Jonathan realized that Rook was going for a handshake. An archaic goodbye, Jonathan shook his old partners hand and hoped to all hope that whoever Rook worked for sent someone else next time.

As Rook stepped away from Jonathan, the two blocking the door they came in through turned and left. The other two clean suits followed behind Rook and kept their eyes moving around the mess hall as they went. They were all professionals, Jonathan realized. They were all probably former members of the Security Force.

Jonathan finished his meal, picked up the concessions he came for, and headed back to the gym. Today was the first day in weeks that was different, he hoped that this would be the end of the differences.