“Good morning, Mister Mortimer!” Governor Thompson’s cheerful voice called. She stood in her tulip garden, bright morning light washing over her on his first real day under her employment.

She was too bright, too happy for such an early hour of the day. The sun hadn’t even risen completely yet, but there he was, walking towards the Governor with bags under his eyes and his unlit pipe in hand. It was packed with vireen, but a part of him had been too nervous to smoke it, scared that he would somehow forget how to use the power it gave him.

“Good morning, ma’am,” he replied. It still felt wrong to use the words, but he was just there for the money. “I hope you don’t mind if I smoke.”

The Governor waved dismissively and with a shaking hand, Vincent lit the pipe. It always took a few seconds for the vireen to kick in, but when it did, it brought a smile to his face. The spark of magic pulsing through his veins was a relief to the tension and stress he had been feeling for weeks.

Vireen was hard to master for anyone new to using it. The first few times he had smoked it when he was younger, it had flooded his senses and overwhelmed him. After years of using it, he was able to push the magic towards specific parts of his body without a struggle. As it flowed through him, he focused it on the bruise on his head, and the ache in his neck from how he had slept. It didn’t heal it instantly, that wasn’t how vireen worked, but it did speed up the healing process.

As soon as he was done, he focused the power on his eyes and ears, finally able to hear and see the way he was used to. Perhaps he was too dependent on vireen for his senses, feeling blind and deaf without it, but he didn’t care. It was good to be able to hear the waves crashing against the beach, and see the cracks in the brick walls.

If he pulled out his gun or his knife, he’d be able to show off the white-pink magic that the vireen gave him. It wrapped around his wrist like vines and curled around whatever weapon he was holding. For him, the magic acted like thorns, spreading from any wound he inflicted on someone else until they were covered in tiny puncture marks. It wasn’t the strongest he’d ever seen, but it still hurt his enemies.

Unlike a certain someone who happened to be standing not far from where the Governor knelt in the dirt. Spencer’s magic was like water and razor-sharp. Having that knife at his throat the week before had been nerve-wracking, even though a part of him knew that Spencer would never kill him. He had too much fun tormenting him to ever permanently end it.

He was grinning brightly but Vincent couldn’t find the reason why in his eyes. It was still unusual to see him without the mask, but he had the feeling he was going to have to get used to it. He raised his eyebrows at the other man, questioning and confused, but didn’t get anything back.

The Governor looked up at him then, a small smile on her face. “I figured I would have you two follow me around for the first few days so I could get to know you better,” she said, her hands in the soil. “We didn’t get much time to talk yesterday.”

So much for not ever being in the company of the Governor. So much for being watched over by another guard. It seemed she had other ideas from her advisor. And, of course, it meant that he would be in the presence of Spencer again, who he had hoped he would be rid of once they were in New Feridian. After their awkward conversation the day before, he didn’t particularly want to see him.

“That’s not a problem, ma’am,” Vincent said, not sure what exactly he was supposed to say to her. Spencer huffed out a laugh behind her and he shot him a glare, too tired to deal with his attitude.

“I told your friend when he got here, but you don’t need to call me ma’am, I don’t like it very much. Charlotte is fine,” she said.

He had only been there for a day, but the longer he was in the Governor’s company, the more she confused him. When he thought the Governors, he thought of people like Nicholas, straightforward, serious and didn’t care for anything except themselves. But there was his Governor, a woman in her forties with a friendly face and far too many tulips for one person to look after.

“Right… Charlotte,” he muttered, taking another puff of his pipe. He looked over at Spencer before he could stop himself, but the younger man just gave him a shrug. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one who was confused by the Governor.

She wore the same dress as the day before, with the dirt-stained apron and a pair of thick gardening gloves. She didn’t seem to notice Vincent's obvious confusion and continued speaking. “We’re not going to be doing much today. I need to finish up here and then I have a meeting to get to,” she explained. “I thought it would be easier for the two of you to get settled in if you were working with someone you’re already friends with.”

“We’re not friends,” Vincent replied, deadpan.

The Governor - Charlotte - frowned up at him, but before she could say a word, Spencer slung an arm over his shoulder. “I don’t know, how long have we known each other? Six years? Seven? I’d say we’re friends by now,” he said, beaming at him like a child.

“You stole from me last week, you’ve still got the pouch attached to your belt,” he replied, pointing at the black leather pouch with his pipe.

Spencer let out a shy laugh. “Yes, well, you’ve got vireen now, don’t you?” he asked, waving away the pink-tinged cloud of smoke drifting towards his face.

The Governor was laughing at them, a hand hiding the smile on her face. “Not every friendship is as straightforward as most would like to think,” she said and let out a small sigh. “My childhood friend and I would fight all the time but we always stuck by each other... That was a long time ago though.”

“See, Vincent, we’re friends, even Charlotte says so.” He was acting like a child, joking and playing around when they were supposed to be watching over the Governor. He wasn’t taking it seriously at all. Not that Vincent wanted too either, but if he wanted to keep getting paid, then he had to at least act like he wanted to be there.

“Sure,” he said, only to make Spencer shut up, and shrugged the arm off his shoulder. He didn’t want to be friends with Spencer, not after everything they had done to each other, but they hadn’t killed each other yet. Maybe that meant something… Not that he could figure it out.

With a sigh, he went back to smoking. It didn’t take him long to finish his pipe, getting lost in the thrill that ran through him. It had been so long since he’d been able to lose himself in the feeling of vireen boosting him, making him better. He took a few indulgent seconds to himself, despite where he was. When he was done, he tucked the pipe in the pocket of his grey uniform jacket, pulling at the itchy material.

He’d found it sitting on the table next to the door of his little room that morning. A grey jacket, black pants and a white dress shirt made out of material he could have sold for a whole pouch of gold. They were itchy and uncomfortable, and after only a few minutes, he missed being able to wear his long black coat.

But it was uniform and he had the feeling he would get in a lot of trouble for not wearing it. Even Spencer had put his on, but he still looked naked without the mask. There was something in his eyes, something off, that made Vincent wonder if he felt just as wrong without the mask as he looked.

He kept a hand near the handle of his gun as he stood off to the side of Charlotte, looking over the small amount of land she owned. It was big enough to fit at least four houses, maybe more, but instead, it held the manor and the garden, ringed by the ugly grey wall. Beyond it to one side lay the ocean, where the birds squawked loudly, on the other were the small dorm buildings he now lived in, made of red brick and hotter than the spring air outside.

There wasn’t much to see other than that. Guards patrolled the inside of the wall, occasionally glancing over at Charlotte and her two strange bodyguards. They were probably staring at Spencer more than him, as he was standing there like a bodyguard should. Spencer had crouched down next to Charlotte and was asking her questions about her flowers.

She let out a small giggle that sounded like something a teenage girl would come out with, eyes locked on Spencer. Vincent scoffed and glanced away, not in the mood for whatever it was he was trying to do. The awful feeling that had been in his stomach since he met Henricks came back in a rush, pushing away the thrill that the vireen had given him.

“Well, I’m all done here,” Charlotte said, pushing to her feet. “I need to change again, then we’ll head to my meeting, alright?”

“How long does it take you to tend to all of these?” Spencer asked, but not even Vincent could tell if the curiosity was genuine.

She sighed and rubbed at her shoulders. “Far too long,” she answered with a small huff of laughter. “I want to hire some gardeners once we can afford it. We’re spending quite a bit on you.”