The archive keeper had yet to arrive. In the meantime, Lorenzo studied the documents on Ranger Hook for answers. Could she have been the same woman who asked him for directions? He tried to compare her to the photo on his tablet, but all he remembered were the differences between them.

In his heart, he hoped it wasn't her. To let a target slip by after walking up to him? What an inexcusable display, and right in front of his subordinate, too. It's even worse than partaking in a donut in front of her. That was out of his control, and at least he trusted Wattson had enough sense and discipline to avoid succumbing to their diabolical deliciousness.

He couldn't say the same of Kelly and the child's ability to apprehend Hook. Nonetheless, the fate of the mission might have fallen into their hands.

"...And it's so hard to find good help these days." Across the open area where Lorenzo stood, at the far end of a table, two women stood, having a conversation. One spoke up louder than appropriate for a library setting.

"Oh, I completely understand. I've been absolutely devastated since my nanny left. The boys are old enough to take care of themselves, but it's not just about that. She was my girl, my BFF. That's not something I can just replace, you know?" The longer-haired woman sighed dramatically. "We're supposed to start on Seamstress on the Run next week?"

"Yep, I hear it's a real rollercoaster. I can't wait! See you then?"

"You know it~" She shimmied.

Both left. Neither of them looked anything like Hook, so Lorenzo didn't know why he bothered paying attention. He directed his focus to Ranger Wattson, who stood on the other side of the archive door, hidden from view of the seating area by shelves lining its perimeter. She read a book to pass time. He wondered if he should do the same.

The shelf to his back held a selection of history books. His eyes tried their best to search for one related to the Interstellar Forces without his reading glasses. Technically, he could switch over to him, that was, if he wanted to blow his disguise. No, he'd wait until getting into the archives to do that.

Pale fingertips fell onto a book spine in his eyeline. They weren't Wattson's. Wattson still read her book on the other side.

"Oh, excuse me." A middle-aged woman stared up at him, the long-haired one from earlier. "I'm just looking for something." She blinked a few times. "You wouldn't have happened to see a book called Seamstress on the Run, have you?"

"No, ma'am. I haven't seen that title."

"Phooey." she pouted, continuing to trail her fingers along books. "I don't think I've seen you around before. You look memorable."

Lorenzo pondered over how or if he should respond. "These clothes are memorable, I suppose."

She giggled. Was what he said funny? He glanced over at Wattson for some kind of confirmation, but she must've been completely engrossed in her book. Her face was fully buried in it.

"The clothes are definitely part of it," the woman brushed at her bangs, "but you have a striking look about you in general. Oh, you know what you remind me of? Those living statues at the gym up that way." She pointed north. "I've taken a job there a few times. All I had to do was stand around and pose. You should go for it if you haven't."

Stand around and pose while nearly naked, if Lorenzo remembered correctly. He'd rather not. However, he did know for a fact that the gym models were chosen for their admirable physiques, so he took that as a compliment. He took it cautiously though, even though something about it made his muscles tense. "No, thank you."

"You do seem the shy type." She giggled again. Wasn't she supposed to be looking for a book? Suddenly, she jerked her head to the side, squinting at something over Lorenzo's shoulder.

Behind him, Wattson inched toward one of the other bookshelves. She almost disappeared out of view when the woman walked over to her.

"Excuse me?" her voice was almost too quiet for Lorenzo to hear.

Wattson jolted, instinctively turning her head towards her.

"Mia??"

"H-Hi Mom."

"Mia!" whisper-screamed the woman. "You look gorgeous! Come here~" She then locked Wattson in a tight embrace, planting kisses on her cheek with the speed and intensity of a woodpecker. "I miss you sooo much." Suddenly, her eyebrows furrowed. "Wait, I thought you were supposed to be at work today."

"I, um, I–"

Lorenzo's relief ended when her eyes fell back on him. "Whoops!" With one hand, she covered her own face. "Sorry, this is my daughter Mia," she squished both of their faces together, "although some people think we're sisters."

Both had wavy, red hair and similarly pale skin, though even to Lorenzo, Wattson's mother looked old enough to be her legal guardian.

"I know her." he responded. "We came here together." Though Mia's cover was partially blown, he could at least keep the nature of their presence a secret.

"You did?" She turned to her daughter. "When were you going to introduce me to your friend?"

"I-I guess now is a good time. Mom, this is, um..." Wattson trailed off.

Lorenzo offered his hand. "Rafael."

"Oh my~ Rafael, what a handsome name." She took her time clasping her hand around his. "Well, it's nice to meet you." Her hand slid off of his instead of letting go, as if she was trying to prolong physical contact as much as possible.

Out of politeness, he suppressed a flinch. "Likewise, Ms. Wattson."

Something in her expression soured, but she quickly recovered. "Please, Ms. Wattson is my daughter. Rose. Delilah Rose."

"My apologies, Ms. Rose." In hindsight, he wondered if her rose earrings and belt were supposed to be a clue.

"Aww, how polite. I know it's a little jarring meeting someone from TV, but don't feel the need to be so formal. Unless you want to~" Rose winked.

Lorenzo had no idea what TV had to do with anything.

"My mom's been in some local commercials." Wattson chimed in.

"Movies too, but those are a little before your time."

"Her commercials play fairly often," she elaborated, "so, uh, you've probably seen her." Lorenzo had seen a lot of people in commercials. He didn't remember them all.

"Maybe this will ring a bell." Rose cleared her throat, then pressed her hands to her face. "Wow, these savings are truly out of this world! If you wanna shop smart, choose Carter's Mart."

Surprisingly, that worked. "I remember now. I often hear that commercial when I'm cooking."

"You cook? How fascinating. Wh–"

"Mom, do you need help finding that book?" Wattson steered this conversation back on track, thankfully.

"Oh Mia," her mother grabbed her hands, "you know I adore your help–really, I can't bear living without it–but if there's anything I can handle on my own, it's finding a book. Right now, I want to know more about your friend. It's strange you never told me about him. We're BFFs! I don't understand why you'd sneak out behind my back just to hang out with a bo–"

She gasped before finishing that sentence, then went silent. Her eyes darted between Wattson and Lorenzo. Soon, her hands cupped over Wattson's ears, and she whispered something that her daughter furiously shook her head at.

"Excuse us," she finally addressed him with a smile, "we need to have a girls' talk."

Those were her last words before dragging her daughter into an aisle. Lorenzo took a breath for what felt like the first time in hours. He needed to conserve his mental energy for searching through the archives, so the break was much appreciated. It gave him time to just stare into space.

Before long, a short, old man wandered over to where he stood. He looked around for a moment before his eyes settled on him. "Excuse me, you wouldn't happen to be the one requesting access to the Interstellar Forces' archives, would you?"

"Yes, I am."

"Sorry if I took long, I was finishing up my lunch break." This was evident by his tuna breath. "Can I see your ID?"

Lorenzo handed it over, and the man scrutinized it.

"May I see your eyes?"

With no one else around, Lorenzo saw no reason not to. This guy wasn't Hook.

The archivist handed back his ID. "Yep, you're the guy in the photo. Though I wasn't expecting someone dressed so flashily."

"This is a special case."

"Huh." He looked around expectantly. "I was under the impression that there would be more than one person here."

Lorenzo searched for any sign of Wattson coming back. "My associate should be here soon. Please excuse me for a moment."

He walked part way there until realizing that he might intrude on their privacy. So instead, he took out his tablet and hoped that Emil would respond to his message right away.

'Please call Ranger Wattson and tell her that the archivist is here.' he texted.

'HUH? What does THAT mean?!?!' Emil included confused and question mark emojis as if the capitalization and punctuation didn't get his confusion across. 'Aren't you supposed to be with her anyway?'

'She's in the middle of something. She'll know what you mean.'

A few moments later, he responded back. 'Done.' The next message included a sighing emoji and a wink emoji. 'The things I do for you. Btw the crush thing is all settled.'

'Good to hear.'

'C'moooon join the group chat already.' Emil whined via text and emoji. 'Or at least get Mia's number.'

'Thank you for calling.' Lorenzo returned to the archivist.

Wattson poked her head out of the aisle, then stepped out while making reassuring hand gestures to the woman inside. They also seemed to double as an attempt to get her mother to stay in place. It was to no avail. Her mother clung to her arm on her way over to the other two.

"Hello there, Delilah." The archivist adjusted his collar and glasses. "I wasn't expecting you here."

"Always a pleasure to see you, Georgie." Something about Rose's words brought out a chuckle from him.

"Here's my ID." Wattson cut through the small talk.

"Oh, yes, let me take a look at that." The archivist examined her ID. His eyebrows raised. "Can you lift your glasses, please?"

Wattson did so.

"Wow, you bear a striking resemblance to Ms. Rose. Are you related, by any chance? Let me guess, are you," he raised an eyebrow, "sisters?"

Rose continued the chuckle-fest. "She does have my long lashes, my hazels, and my figure," she bumped Wattson's hip with her own, "but that's because she's my daughter."

"Well, didn't you win the genetic lottery?" The archivist handed Wattson's ID back to her.

She took it. "Thank you."

"By the way, Rafael, Mia does most of our house cooking, too. At least... she did before she left us behind." Rose leaned her head against her daughter's shoulder while pouting, then sprang back up happily. "Maybe you can share cooking tips."

In the times that Mia took over cooking duty, she established herself as one of the more competent cooks, from what Lorenzo remembered. "I'll consider it."

"She wears a lot of different hats actually. Chef, maid, financial adviser–she's especially good with keeping children alive! She's a bit modest, but she doesn't ask for much and is a wonderful listener–"

"Delilah, I'm sorry to interrupt your conversation, but only authorized individuals are allowed into the IF archives."

"Oh, so this is a work thing?" she asked Wattson. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"It was kind of supposed to be a secret." Wattson answered.

Her mother looked her over. "That still doesn't explain why–Ah, nevermind. You two have fun in there." She winked at her. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do~"

"I wouldn't dream of it."

"Bye-bye Georgie, bye Rafie~" Not a moment too soon, she left. Lorenzo gave her a polite nod.

"Goodbye, Delilah." The archivist's eyes trailed her as she walked past the group. Finally, they snapped back to the other two. "Follow me."

He led them into a grey room packed with rows of shelves, each brimming with binders. A doorway off to the side revealed a seating area lit by a half-dead fluorescent light. Wattson pulled her jacket over her shoulders, no doubt because of the temperature drop. With the dim lighting and lack of witnesses, neither needed their sunglasses.

"So, what are you two looking for in particular?"

Finally, a conversation Lorenzo knew how to approach. "We're looking into behavioral patterns of star rangers who have deserted or have been absent without official leave."

"AWOL or deserters. Hmmmm," the archivist adjusted his glasses, "the court martial records should have what you're looking for. From the ones who've been caught, anyway. Is there a particular time period you're looking at?"

"What time periods are available?"

"Everything from a little before the Moon landing up until ten years ago."

"So about fifty years." Lorenzo reiterated. "Records from the past ten to twenty years should be most useful for our purposes." The Interstellar Forces and Lunaria hadn't changed too much during that time. Any tricks to hide should be unchanged as well.

"Ten to twenty years ago, got it. Why don't you go wait in the research room while I get those for you?" The archivist motioned to the side doorway. "This room gets cramped with just one person, let alone three."

Lorenzo and Wattson heeded his advice and navigated through narrow passages on their way to the research room. Once they reached the table, Wattson sat down a few chairs away from him.

"I'm sorry about my mom." she spoke up after a moment of silence. "I was trying to get her to leave before the archivist got here."

"You controlled the situation to the best of your ability." Though her efforts were in vain, Lorenzo appreciated them.

"Thanks. Um, if it makes you feel any better, she's not actually interested in you. I think."

That answered a question that had been bubbling at the root of his discomfort with Rose. "So she was flirting with me."

Wattson nodded. "She won't anymore. Probably. Though now she thinks that we're," she pointed between them, "something."

Lorenzo's shoulders tightened. Even a rumor of him dating a subordinate could make for a particularly bothersome scandal. "Is there some way you can convince her otherwise?"

"I tried. Nothing I say short of coming out will work." She glanced at him. "I would prefer not to do that."

"Of course. That's a sensitive subject, I understand." He never cared to keep track of his crew members' orientations aside from his brother and the ones who shared the same one as himself. In this sense, Wattson's offhand remark came as a pleasant surprise. One less subordinate to worry about having romantic feelings toward him.

His list of potential problems narrowed down to three: The eternally unpredictable Ranger Allen, Léonardo, who Emil already dealt with, and the unauthorized child. He would be dealt with soon.