“So, you mind telling me what in the hell are you guys  are doing in Isosceles?” Gaines didn’t wait long to dig into them.

Grant had no qualms with the guy. “I fucked my hand up and we both had some leave coming to us. I think K convinced Amon he was watching over me or some shit.”

Gaines raised an eyebrow to Kilian. “You still a captain?”

Kilian reached for the collar of his Dyadic uniform where the bars were clearly displayed.

Gaines gave him a shrug and looked down to what he had on the table — a simple mug of caftea sludge. He didn’t look as if he was dieting though. 

Kilian hated to admit it, but Gaines was arguably more formidable than either of them. His shoulders were almost impossibly wide even though he had the same over-long, leanly muscled arms typical of Mystics. He was maybe six inches shorter than Kilian, making him just a hair shorter than Grant. But he had a wide chest and a thick neck that seemed to bristle with the scar-like mark that exploded out of his breastbone and up along his jawline. Aside from the angry purple of the mark, his skin was a cool, smooth tan — he was significantly older than Kilian but still decades shy of any meaningful aging. His jaw was strong but wider than Grant’s which gave him a more balanced look. But his eyes were unsettling, one was a very normal hazel brown but the other was a light, almost sickly purple color — the edges of the iris poorly differentiated. Overall, Gaines was like Kilian — a generator-type of Mystic, someone who could not just read but manipulate energies. But there had to be something else, or some sort of edge the other man had. some reason Hector picked Gaines over Kilian for the position in Isosceles. He kept telling himself it was probably something insignificant, something like he had age or relative control. Kilian was quite sure that he was the superior generator of the two, he'd just not had the opportunity to prove it.

“Don’t tell me you’re still mad Hector pulled me down here.” Gaines had always been nosy — not that Kilian was shielding his thoughts at all.

Kilian shoveled a mouthful of protein mush into his mouth and chewed pointedly but refusing to answer.

“You really becoming city, huh?” Grant tried to break the awkwardness, motioning with his fork toward the lonely mug of caftea.

“Oh, I have a split shift today. I have a lot to prep for an intake. I ate a few hours ago and will be eating a late dinner after I clock out tonight.”

“So, you do have to work, every once in awhile?” Kilian asked.

Gaines sighed, “I do, lately more than usual. Anyway, when I don’t have an intake, I’m the medical officer for city guard.”

“And how often is that a bother?”

“Well it’s never a bother.”

“You know what I mean.”

“There are inoculation drives every year or so, the Dyads have annual checkups. If Hector is ever sick —“

“Oh, so you’re functioning as Hector’s personal physician.”

“My whole office is —“

“Cut it out, K,” Grant veered into the conversation. “What’s done is done, ain’t no skin off your nose. You’re out making your break, anyhow.”

“Making your break?” Gaines asked, he raised a thick eyebrow and leaned in over his cup. “What can I do to help? If it’ll get you off my back finally, I’ve got you. There are so few of us, no sense in these stupid grudges.”

Kilian felt his brow nearly break over the frown that wrote itself urgently across his face. “I don’t need your help, man. And I don’t carry grudges.”

Grant put his fork down and raised a hand to his lips to sniffle a laugh.

“Whatever,” Gaines shrugged. “I suppose you have it figured out anyhow.”

Now it was Grant that was staring Kilian down. He said nothing, let nothing loose in the aether, not that he had to with it written across this face.

Kilian’s head sunk to break the uncomfortable gaze. “So, you’ve got clout in the city then?”

“Well,” Gaines moved uncomfortably. “Crowd doesn’t care for any of us of course, I’ve got a few friends in the Royal compound and can reach out to Hector if necessary.”

Kilian shook his head, “I’d like to go around Hector if at all possible.”

“Come on!” Grant cut back in. “K, man, didn’t you say the weird guy at the stiff’s office told you to go to your daddy.”

“He’s not my daddy,” Kilian argued. “Like Gaines said, I’m a miracle of science. I’m more of a clone than a son anyway.”

Grant raised his eyebrows. “You’re telling me you, out of all of us, have a a father and you’re not wanting to claim the man? And Hector Malloy of all men?”

“It’s not like that,” Kilian said. “My point is, Hector and I don’t really have a relationship. There’s no open dialog there.”

“That’s on you, man.” Grant picked up his fork again. He’d said his piece.

“Maybe it is,” Kilian shrugged. “But I feel like I can do this without him.”

“How?” Grant punctured his way back into the conversation.

Gaines' weird eyes focused on Kilian’s face with an intensity that sent a shudder through him.

He tried to shrug it off. “I need an appointment with the Dyad Council guy — Charles Lane — a real appointment, not some shit he just blows off.”

Gaines’ eyebrows raised and he looked into his cup. “I don’t know how to say this without upsetting you, Kilian, but I think you’re better off going to your dad with whatever you’ve got.”

Kilian felt something substantial break in him. “No shot. The last time Hector rolled in to size me up he looked right through me at someone else. He obviously doesn’t think I can handle shit like an adult. I need to handle this myself.”

Gaines shook his head. “I’m sure that’s not what happened.”

“What is it then?” Kilian shot at him. “You’re weaker than I am, uglier, there’s no shot you have a better bedside manner.”

Gaines’ gaze bounced to Grant. Grant shook his head. “Uh uh, you guys are going to need to figure this shit out. This is sounding more and more like K man is staying in the city for a few more days and that’s fine with me but I’m on that train tomorrow morning.”

“Come on, Grant.”

“You don’t need me, K. You can handle this yourself, remember?”