Sato flipped through the old diner’s menu. This was a routine she always liked to follow even if she was thoroughly incapable of reading it. She knew they’d accommodate her whatever she ordered, it was a dream after all. The old jukebox in the back spun up a new record as she flipped to the next unintelligible page. 

Sato paused as she noticed the red ketchup stain on the sleeve of her school uniform. She lowered the menu and gave her best friend an accusatory glare. Ai didn’t even flinch. Sato pushed the hot basket of fries back toward her best friend. She had her nose buried in an old fashion magazine as usual.

Sato found it odd she took much interest while her own wardrobe remained so understated. The boldest color she ever wore was the green woven into the plaid of the uniform skirt she was presently wearing. Ai: Fashionista, had mastered the art of black and beige back in elementary and her tastes had not changed one iota so far as Sato could tell. 

“You jerk...” Sato muttered, grabbing a napkin and dabbing at the stain. She knew the girl had placed the basket there on purpose. 

Ai has the same many of the same features as Sato but the light hair from her mother's side. She had told Sato her name either meant ‘Love’ or ‘Sorrow’ depending on how it was written. Sato had never seen AI express either emotion, her ground state was being an bemused observer of other people's misery, contributing dry witticisms just out of earshot. 

Sato nodded to herself wryly. “I think I’m ready.” She looked up expectantly at the nondescript waitress who quickly produced a pen and pad from her apron. 

Sato blushed. “...I’ll have grilled cheese with...” she paused, carefully eyeing the mound of fries congealing before Ai. “...with the onion rings.” Sato felt a bit self conscious ordering something she could easily make herself at home but, she reminded herself this was a dream and only Ai was around to judge.

Sato suspected Ai was about to make a snide comment, however she instead placed her magazine down and pulled a manilla envelope out of her school backpack.

Ai flipped over the cover-sheet and began flicking through pages and tapping the table with the butt of her pen. “Interpol’s summary is worthless... as always. Almost nothing on Helen Kessler anywhere in here.” 

Sato nodded ruefully. “Perhaps there was nothing to find?” 

Ai sighed. “Quite rare for a woman of power and influence not to have skeletons.” 

“There are innocent people in the world you know…” Sato retorted meekly. 

“Indeed there are...” Ai feigned concession. “Just not among these so-called elite.”

“That’s dangerously close to an absolute.” Sato chastised, her friend sometimes needed a gentle reminder not to confuse the improbable with the impossible. Sato firmly believed everyone in this world deserved the benefit of the doubt, even Helen Kessler. 

“Don’t suppose we know anything at all about the artifacts origin? or it’s abilities?” Ai groaned, rubbing her eyes.

“We know it’s a piece of native american artwork. A silver bangle, I believe.” Sato placed the photo she’d seen in the report down on the table.

“Fantastic that could mean anything. Do we at least know how old it is?” Ai tossed the report aside and pulled her tray of fries back up in front of her.

“...Over a thousand years old at least.” Sato grimaced.

Ai froze, hand hovering over her fries. “...Oh well if I knew we were going to die tomorrow I would have ordered a burger.”

“It’s not that bad...” Sato tried to mutter knowing full well it was entirely that bad. “I’m going to check out the vault tomorrow and we’ll go from there.”

Ai merely put a pair of fingers to her forehead mimicking a firearm and slumped back in her chair after pulling the trigger.