Lying over the table with his cheek pressed against the cold plastic, Lamb dazedly watched his fingers twitch.

It was so smooth...

He recalled the silky sensation of Messiah’s long white hair threading through his fingers, and vaguely remembered the sting of hitting the man’s dark metal face. His glossy mask, only inches above Lamb’s face, had been cold and devoid of breath. But the man’s body had felt warm and wide as they’d laid pressed together in the mats...

No... no, no. Lamb blinked and, realizing that drool had begun to collect in his open mouth, swallowed with a quiet slurp. Have some self-respect, he lectured himself half-heartedly. Going around feeling attracted to everyone that came in close physical contact with him was not the solution to his pining heart. The solution, he had decided long ago at the beginning of summer, was to abandon those feelings altogether, and immerse himself in work.

Work... ah, yeah, this lecture that he was zoning out on, and that voice echoing vaguely in the background, they had something to do with work. Something about a security protocol refresher... he should probably be paying attention.... But his head was so heavy... and... the speaker’s voice... it was soothing... she had that deep, slightly hoarse voice, like thick grainy pudding...

As Lamb was drowsily imagining the gritty texture of chocolate pudding in his mouth, something squeezed his waist and he jolted up, slamming his knee into the table with a resounding bang.

Seeing a few heads turning his way, Lamb lowered his head into the table and gulped. Heart pounding in shame and panic and confusion, he closed his eyes and sent an internal shriek to the only person who could have been responsible.

<What was that for?!>

He could imagine Hermes staring disdainfully down at his huddled figure.

<The speaker was giving you one hell of a glare, Sleeping Beauty. You sure you should be sleeping through this?>

<Urgh...> Guiltily, Lamb looked up and rested his chin on the table. The speaker’s gaze was vaguely directed at the center of the lecture hall, away from him – he and Hermes were sitting at the very back. Struggling to focus, he gazed at her through half-lidded eyes. There was something familiar about her medium skin tone and short brown hair... it felt like he’d seen her somewhere before.

She was pointing at some slides projected onto the front of the room, depicting a mind map of humanoid silhouettes. Something about incognito escape strategies…? She was talking, too, but Lamb had been zoned out for far too long to understand what was going on. Instead, he found himself trying to reconstruct her features in a different place. Where had he seen her...?

Lamb closed his eyes and tried to search his memories for her face, but everywhere he looked, it was the same – hazy silhouettes, with the occasional vivid image of Hermes’ nonchalant gaze or Puma’s dark smirk. He could still recall Messiah quite well, too… their faces had been very close together for some time, after all. The man’s metal mask had been plain but contoured with subtle grooves, suggesting retractable pieces, and split into two major parts divided by a deep dark groove across the eye area. It must be stuffy in there… did he really wear that around at all times? Even when eating…?

Remembering that the man had appeared to be making coffee that morning, Lamb thought back to the breakfast hall. But all of his memories showed the man with his back turned, broad torso shrouded by his dramatically long white hair. He’d only caught a small glimpse of Messiah’s side profile, when the man had turned to ask that woman what was going on – oh.  Lamb opened his eyes triumphantly. She’s that woman that was with Messiah! What was her name again? She’d said it earlier, something along the lines of, “Margaret, but call me Maggie.”

Wide-eyed, he turned to the speaker, and realized with a start that Maggie  was staring straight at him. And Hermes was right… that really was quite the fierce glare.

Guiltily realizing that he’d been zoning out with his eyes closed, Lamb shrunk back and offered her a fluttering smile. The woman’s eyes narrowed, and she continued to stare his way. Flustered and suddenly extremely self-conscious of the fact that other people had begun to turn their heads, Lamb entered an unintelligent state of panic that was only broken a few seconds later, by Hermes.

<She picked on you to answer a question.> Looking unperturbed by all the attention, Hermes had rested his head in his hands and was gazing ahead nonchalantly. <‘What is an alter ego?’>

Oh, well, at least that was easy. Huffing in relief, Lamb faced the many turned gazes and declared, “An alter ego is… er… like, a Sentinel’s daily form. I mean, um, like the identity we assume for day-to-day life… as a disguise…”

His answer had sounded a lot more coherent before he’d blurted it out, and Lamb felt himself flushing as he stammered to an uncertain pause. Clearly deeming his answer incomplete, Maggie was still eyeing him – and consequently, so was everyone else.

Beside him, Hermes sighed and closed his eyes. <I’m starting to get second-hand embarrassment here.> 

Flustered, Lamb straightened and struggled to fill the dense silence with somewhat sensible speech. “And, the biggest rule of our alter ego is that we’re not allowed to use anyone’s Codename or mention anything related to Sentinels out loud – and vice versa, while we’re in any Ypsilon-related situations, like when we’re on missions or in HQ like this, we must assume our Codename, remain hidden from anyone associated with our alter ego, and never mention the names we use in alter ego, and…”

Realizing he was rambling slightly off-topic, Lamb stopped again in a fluster. But this time, as he burned up in front of everyone’s stares, Maggie spared him and turned away with a sigh.

“Well, yeah, that’s right… I guess.” Sounding dismissive, she turned back and advanced her presentation slides to three bolded point-form sentences in a plain white background. “Lamb ended up mentioning some of these, but this is a reminder of Ypsilon’s three big rules. One – while in alter ego, you know nothing about Ypsilon, Codenames or Sentinels. Two – while a Sentinel, you know nothing about your alter ego and any associated contexts. And, in my opinion, the most important – three – if you think your identity has been compromised, let someone at Ypsilon know.” She faced them, her expression stern and dark eyes glittering with passionate gravity. “We’ll be able to help. Sentinels are only a small part of the team here. Never forget that you aren’t alone.”

In the impactful silence that followed, Hermes sent him a wry remark. <…The way she says it, I can’t tell if that’s supposed to sound comforting or threatening.>

<Haha…> Though he had to agree, Lamb replied patronizingly, <I’m sure they’re words of comfort…>

<Hmm.> Hermes’ nonchalance didn’t change, but his amber eyes narrowed in an ever-so-slight look of displeasure. <In our case, it’s more of a threat, isn’t it? You should be careful.>

Knowing immediately that Hermes was thinking of Rose, Lamb sighed and bobbed his head in a nod. <I know, I know. I will…>

“Well…” Breaking the heavy silence with an airy huff, Maggie turned off the projection and faced them. “If you’re going to forget everything about this meeting, at least remember those three, and us support staff can work something out.”

It might have been his dramatic imagination, but Lamb thought she shot a brief glare in his direction.

“With that, the seminar is over.” She sighed and walked over to grab her drink from the front podium. “You all have a short debrief meeting, where you’ll be filled in on what’s happening tomorrow. Meet up at North Plaza within five minutes, it’s the junction with the lounge and that soup café. Don’t be late.”

The general rustling of everyone rising from their seats had long began to muffle her voice, and Lamb also jumped up to stretch. He grimaced as cracks rippled through his back, then relaxed with a satisfied sigh and turned to Hermes with bright eyes.

“I need to pee.”

“Same.” Planting both hands on his shoulders, Hermes began to shove him out into the aisle. “Hurry up. Everyone else is probably thinking the same thing.”

“Oh, okay…” Stumbling a bit, Lamb recovered his footing once they’d left the narrow tables and pulled away from Hermes with a few hops. He’d been too dazed to notice until now, but as Lamb glanced at the crowd of others before being swept outside, he didn’t see any distinct white-haired figures.

“Where’s Messiah?”

Walking briskly beside him, Hermes turned his head and raised an eyebrow. “Huh? How should I know?”

“Uh,” Lamb lifted his hands sheepishly. “I meant like, why isn’t he here? Everyone else was. A security refresher sounds kinda important.”

“Says the guy who daydreamed through the whole thing.” Hermes scoffed, then shrugged. “I dunno, Messiah is Gen Zero. He’s probably got special privileges. He sure treats HQ like his personal home.” Hermes snickered, obviously remembering the pajama-clad man earlier that morning.

Picturing the man’s blue striped pants, Lamb chuckled as well. But as he pushed open the washroom door and stepped inside, he stopped abruptly.

Hermes walked into him and staggered back – but before the boy  could drop an indignant comment, he glanced over Lamb’s shoulder and fell silent.

Puma had been staring at the tiled wall in a deadpan, waiting for the fans to finish drying his hands. But when the muffled hiss of the airflow fell silent, he glanced over, and his previously dull irises lit up.

“Well, hey!” Flinging the remaining moisture off his fingertips, Puma sauntered over and, ignoring Lamb’s bristling scowl, pet the boy’s fluffy mess of hair. “How’s your wound?”

Lamb jerked away, forcing Hermes to stumble aside. “It’s fine,” he muttered, skirting around the man.

Puma chuckled, leaning against the door and eyeing them curiously. “What’s it from?”

“Sorry, can’t tell you,” Lamb grunted as he stepped into a cubicle. “Company policy.”

“Hoh, so it’s from work,” Puma mused smugly.

Irked, Lamb lowered his head, glad for once that his messy bangs were long enough to hide his face. He heard Hermes let out a loud sigh as the boy took the adjacent urinal, and could guess at some of the things that Hermes probably wanted to say to him – but his friend kept silent. Puma watched them a little longer, but when Lamb didn’t say anything else, the man let go of the door and turned away.

“See ya in a few minutes, then. Don’t get lost.”

Once the door had slid shut, Lamb sighed in relief. Beside him, Hermes pulled up his zipper and went to wash his hands.

“Why was he asking about your wound?” The boy’s voice was nonchalant, but Lamb saw his amber-haired reflection raise an eyebrow from the bathroom mirrors.

“Oh, it bled a little when I was sparring with him. They made a big deal about it and sent me to the lab early.” Finished using the urinal, Lamb sighed and went over to wash his hands, too. “It was already fine by the time I got there, though.”

“You sparred with Puma?” Hermes spoke wryly, but promptly filled the room with the rumbling of the fan as he dried his hands. Not wanting to shout, Lamb didn’t reply, and by the time he was done drying his own hands, Hermes was already waiting by the door with a slight change of subject. “How did your check-up go? Did they ask about the wound?”  

“It was fine. Same as everyone else’s.” Lamb shrugged offhandedly as he followed his friend back into the translucent tunnels. “They take your blood sample and do a head scan and take your measurements and stuff. I changed my shirt back first so nobody noticed the wound. Oh, but –” He perked up brightly. “I grew 1 cm taller!”

Hermes cast him a dark glare. “You sure it’s not just cause your hair is extra messy today?”

Once upon a time, Hermes had been the taller one – but since high school, the boy’s physique hadn’t changed. He was nearly a head shorter now, with round eyes and baby cheeks to match. Hermes said he didn’t care, and that was probably true – but Lamb was secretly glad that he had hadn’t suffered the same fate. Laughing blithely, Lamb reached over and grabbed his friend’s shoulder in a comforting sort of way. “No, it’s legit. But don’t worry. I like you just the way you are.”

Clearly not appreciating the sentiment one bit, Hermes pulled ahead with a dry scoff. “Thanks.”