“You know, I think we should really have company dinners more often,” Alfred said through a full mouth of food that muffled his words.

Davis raised an eyebrow as he cut through a piece of steak with his knife. “Why? So you can leach off me more?”

“Nooo," he said, elongating his vowels in a way that hardly sounded convincing, "Besides, I’m sure golden eyes here would like it too.”

“My opinion is unimportant to this—”

“See, she loves the idea.”

“Alfred, don’t use her against Davis for your own agenda,” Francesca reprimanded with a light sternness.

We were all seated together inside a restaurant Francesca had led us to. It was long past nightfall and the room was packed with dozens of other customers. I found the loud, overlapping chatter from nearby tables and the close proximity of my chair to others to be somewhat disconcerting.

Francesca had also ordered all the dishes for us which resulted in quite the spread, though all those various scents merged into one. Alfred had also given some opinionated input about which menu items he preferred, much to Davis' annoyance.

Surprisingly, Hendrik was also there. He’d begrudgingly agreed to come along after both Alfred and Davis practically dragged him out of the morgue. Even though we were seated next to each other, he hadn’t even met my eyes once yet during the dinner.

Although his expression, while still rather apathetic, was more relaxed than the scowl he always seemed to wear whenever he saw me. He added little to the table’s conversation, seeming content with listening to the other three speak, and only chiming in occasionally.

I didn’t contribute much either as I busied myself with the plate in front of me. Usually, I’d eat my meals with haste since I rarely had the time to indulge excessively in such a menial task while on the battlefield. But now, in an environment with no looming threats or pressing concerns, time was a luxury I could afford.

So I slowed down the rate of my chewing, taking my time with each bite. I figured the more I appeared preoccupied, the less chance I'd be dragged into the conversation. But as my hand gripped around my fork, I struggled to keep the cut of fish from slipping around on the plate every time I tried cutting into it. When it slipped again, I heard someone clear their throat to my right.

“Try holding it like this,” Francesca whispered to me. I looked over and saw how she held the utensils, keeping her pointer fingers on the neck of the fork and knife. I copied her finger placements down to the specific angle she held them. After I did, she gave me a reassuring nod before turning back to her own plate.

I didn’t know what to think about this woman. She’d expressed her concern about my being here to Davis so directly, and yet, kept maintaining this kind of outward demeanour towards me.

“But we should consider giving her an actual name soon, you know,” Alfred said, pointing his fork towards me. I’d momentarily become distracted from their conversation, and when I looked up, I realised that all their focus was directed towards me.

“For once, I actually agree with him. We should've given her a name by now," Francesca said, nodding in agreement.

Davis hummed in response, swallowing a mouthful of food before opening his mouth to speak. “About that, I’ve already made a list of names I thought might suit her.”

A list?

This was the first I was hearing about it. I couldn't help but stare curiously at Davis as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small folded piece of paper. As he began to unfold it, both Alfred and Francesca leaned over his shoulder with curious stares. Even Hendrik briefly glanced at it from the corner of his eye.

“No way, you actually made a list?” Alfred questioned as he skimmed through the different names on the page, his eyes slowly narrowing at each one. “Christine, Jean, Ophelia… Really? These were the names you came up with?”

“Hey, they’re not that bad.”

“I suppose they’re not awful names,” Francesca said as she read through the list herself. “But I don't think any of them suit her that well."

"Well, I thought maybe something along the lines of ‘Constance’ or ‘Lana’ sounded nice,” Davis said, slowly frowning as he reevaluated the list.

Alfred shot a look at Davis and raised his eyebrow. “You really thought she looked like a ‘Constance’?”

“Well, you try coming up with one then!”

Alfred hummed loudly, rubbing his chin as he tried to think of a name before blurting one out.

“Samantha?”

All he got for that suggestion was two blank stares from Francesca and Davis. They looked at him, thoroughly unimpressed, for a few seconds before they both turned back down to the list.

“Alright, let’s not take your opinion on this then,” Francesca said, dismissing Alfred’s suggestion entirely as she began to reread the names.

“Hey, what’s wrong with that one?”

“What about Irene?”

All their eyes turned to Hendrik when he spoke. He was still nonchalantly stabbing at his plate with his fork, ignoring their stares. It was a surprise he decided to voice an opinion at all on the matter. But, those three grew silent as they each quietly considered his suggestion.

“I guess it’s not the worst choice. Irene Davis doesn’t sound that bad,” Alfred said as he raised his hand to his chin.

Davis snapped his head towards him, staring at him incredulously as his cheeks seemed to grow warm. “Hold on, since when were we giving her my surname?”

“Well you’re the one who took her in, and it’s not like I’m going to give her mine.”

“I do agree with him,” Francesca interjected, “If she were to take any of our family names, it would be yours.”

“Wait just a second. You’re forgetting that this is her name, so shouldn’t she be the one to decide,” Davis argued before turning towards me. I stopped chewing as I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise. Everyone, excluding Hendrik, was now looking straight at me.

I didn’t quite know what to do with all their eyes on me. Honestly, it was rather inconvenient to have this decision fall onto me as I rarely had to decide anything for myself before. I was more than content with letting them choose whatever name they thought best. It was just a name after all and hardly a major concern. But, to be given some autonomy, even over something so small, was peculiar.

“I think Irene Davis would work well,” I stated, not expressing any strong preference or dislike for the name. I left it at that and turned back down to my plate.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” Davis asked, furrowing his eyebrows doubtfully at me.

“I am.”

“Well, if you’re sure, there’s nothing else I can do,” he sighed as he leaned back into his seat, appearing rather defeated. He was quiet for a moment, quietly reconsidering the name in his mind and a small smile crept onto his face. “But Alfred’s right, the name does sound nice.”

Irene Davis.

Those words felt foreign on my tongue when I said it out loud. I wasn’t sure that I’d even respond to it if someone called me that name. But no matter how long it would take me to adjust, I was sure I would eventually.

But when I glanced back up at Davis, a flash of yellow appeared outside the window behind me. My eyes immediately flickered towards it as a familiar blonde-haired man walked past the restaurant. His expression seemed impassive as he wore a neutral gaze and walked by without a second thought.

I wasn’t sure what about seeing him compelled me to do so, but without another thought, I’d already put my fork down on the table.

“Please excuse me. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Before any of them could say a word, I'd already stood up and left the table to head straight out the door. When I stepped outside, I was met with that cool breeze as it blew gently against the fabric of my coat.

I turned to my right—the direction he’d been walking in—and peered down the road, but he was already out of sight. Without another moment of delay, I ran down the street, the sound of my boots hitting the pavement echoed through the empty air with every step.

I just hoped he wasn’t completely out of reach yet.

There were people still out, but they were few and far between with the numbers only seeming to drizzle lower the further I ran from the restaurant. Every time I spotted someone, I became annoyed whenever they didn’t adorn the same suits that man wore or if they didn’t have the same blue eyes.

As I reached a crossroad, I stopped. I glanced down at the two paths, my head turning between them. They both looked the same, but he must’ve gone down one. Even if I chose the wrong one, maybe I’d be fast enough to turn back to the other before I lost him completely.

But then, the soft and rhythmic thud of footsteps echoed down the street to my left, and with every step, that sound grew fainter. Without hesitating, I continued my sprint down that narrow road, the buildings seemed to cave in on me the further I ran down. The sound of those footsteps became indistinguishable from my own, yet I still chased after it.

But when I rounded the corner, the road abruptly cut off as I was met face-to-face with a building at the end of the street. I let out a heavy sigh as I was forced to a sudden halt. I wondered if it was even worth trying the other path or if the man was long gone by now.

It was an impulsive decision to go after him anyway, so it wouldn’t be a major loss if I wasn’t able to find him.

But before I could even decide to turn back, that familiar noise of shoes against the ground reached my ears again. However this time, it seemed to grow louder with each step. I whipped my body around and met the eyes of a man. But it wasn’t the blonde I’d been looking for.

He stood there alone, about half a dozen feet away from me. The dim glow of the moon revealed the dark, almost purple shade of his hair. And through his square-rimmed glasses, I could tell he didn’t have blue eyes either.

It was far from it with his pair of golden eyes that pierced into my own.