Her mind scrambled for options while her body screamed at her to run. She kept herself steady as she crawled out of the underspace of the dumpster. There she saw the dropped item, glistening. Every instinct told her to leave it, but Cross was watching, waiting. She picked it up —a token —that felt heavier than it should when her shaking fingers closed around it. The institutional playbook was useless here. She had to improvise.

She approaches the alley entrance the white cloak fills her peripheral vision like a wall closing in. Cross didn't step into view; she materialised, close enough that Elise could smell something metallic.

"You wanted me to take this." Not a question. Her voice came out steadier than she felt.

Cross looks down at her, letting the silence linger. Elise notices dark patches of skin under her eyes.

—Old bruises, or something... worse

Silence hung as shouting from the building hummed in and out.

"You are smarter than most," she observes as Elise shivers, trying to stand her ground. "Having it be on my terms was the... smart choice."

Cross knelt, her heavy hand took hold of Elise's, the one clutching the token, fitting entirely into her palm. Elise releases her clutch, giving the token a closer look. Engraved 'LACROSS REIBACH NACROSS' with an orthodox cross on both sides.

"I prefer clean solutions." She wipes off the dirt on the token, but black stains persist. "The token's interesting, isn't it? Most people focus on the words, but you?" She sees Elise's scrutinising gaze. "You see something else, even now you're able to think clearly." Cross's voice was conversational, almost friendly. "You don't fold so easily."

They look at each other silently, waiting for the other to speak.

"Quiet now? Smart. Most people babble when they're scared." Cross shifts slightly, still holding Elise's hand. "But silence only works if you have time."

Cross glanced at the building, the shouting seeming to have ceased, 'negotiations' going smoothly.

"My 'friends' will be back soon. They're less... tolerant to the ICJ than I am."

Elise's eyes widen, and Cross sees it as confirmation of her assumption.

"I know you're just following orders. But you look to have enough sense to know that they don't matter now." She smiles, attempting to calm her nerves, but the slight curve only makes her uncanny. "Show me that you're worth keeping before my 'friends' return and make this... messy."

The revelation hit her like lightning. Cross wasn't just evaluating her; she was positioning for a request.

—She needs ICJ access, and she thinks I am her way in.

The irony was intoxicating. Elise fought to keep her expression neutral while her pulse thundered with possibility.

Instead of the expected defensive or denial of the request, Elise leaned in, "You're right. Orders are orders. But what exactly are you asking me to do?" Unable to contain herself, her lips twitch—nervousness, Cross assumed.

Cross's smile grows genuine as they fell on the same page of different books.

"It's simple, tell me what you're planning for the armistice celebrations."

As Elise gears up, the sound of footsteps loudens. Cross swipes Elise into her cloak as her partners walk out with contraband in hand.

The fingers of the massive hand covered Elise's lips, while another set of arms, more reasonably sized, carried her at the hip. She felt a solid wall of muscle at the back of her head, a parental kind of warmth emanating from her body like a kotatsu. Her pleasantly earthy, herbal scent felt soothing, but tinges of iron still lingered.

The conversation between the partners was muted, but words weren't needed to convey that they were bragging about what occurred in the building.

While cosied up in Cross's arms, Elise is woken up as Cross puts her down on the roof of a train depot. She looks around, trying to grasp her surroundings, also wondering how she ended up falling asleep. The last thing she remembered was being pulled against Cross's solid warmth, which overcame her like a blanket. Now she was on a rooftop, the distant sound of trains below... At the thought, she looked over at Cross, taking off her cloak to unveil her glossy black hair, her immense tanned build, and massive arms. Four arms. The realisation hit her as Cross stretched two massive, two more proportioned, all moving with practised coordination.

Curiosity and wariness overcame her so that she hadn't noticed two sets of eyes watching her back, both pairs belonging to Cross. The second set, smaller and more narrow, sat just beneath her primary eyes. Questions swarmed her mind, but none of them sounded right: What are you? Where are you from? She has to be human! But what sat in front of her didn't suit her definition.

Cross turned her attention to the railyard, watching figures in white uniforms coordinate shipments and inspecting cargo, all while the sun hung low.

The longer Elise looked, the less strange Cross felt, and the more the questions grew. What she saw in fantasy was now manifest before her eyes, blurring the lines of the real and unreal. Elsie sat for a while, having to rework this new reality into her framework. She looked at the yard as well. Everyone was part of the syndicate—regular-looking people—and a person of the same affiliation sat beside her, otherworldly, hidden. A whole world still uncharted to her.

"The armistice celebration, you asked what we're planning." Elise kept it direct.

Cross nodded.

"I don't know much. I haven't been assigned to that team, but I'll try to see what I can get for you. Anything you want to know?"

"You seem too eager to give away your own people." Cross replies sharply, only paying her mind with her secondary eye.

"I am eager to stay alive." She looks at the yard again, not a single begrudging moan or hesitation from the regular day workers. "I don't want to find out what'll happen if I end up on a syndicate's radar."

"What makes you certain that is what will happen?"

She pauses, being made to reason her gut feeling, "Why would you do all this just to let go of me so easily?"

"I thought you'd be smart enough to know that this isn't the first time I've seen you." She sees Elise turn rigid. "I suppose I can see more than you, maybe that's why you didn't realise," Cross says to herself. "You've always been on our radar since we first caught you. Always snooping in places you shouldn't. It's good you never caught on to our plans, otherwise..."

"So the scandal... the commissioner..."

"We only facilitated so they wouldn't be flagged for it, and bought out his ignorance. That's a conversation for another time..." her voice trailed off, now faint, "maybe with someone else."

—It was all a red herring, the threads all missing France, they were all properly covered up, legitimised. And even now they're working with their affiliation blatant to see. And now without an agency to keep watch over them...

Elise looked over to Cross's unreadable eyes.

—She knew, they all knew and didn't care! Did any of it matter?

"Just get me whatever information you can find that you think will be relevant. That's all you need to know."

"You know what's interesting? You think I'm ICJ, but the reason I wasn't a concern to you is that you've been watching me investigate the ICJ. That doesn't add up, does it?"

Cross barely acknowledges her.

"But I know someone who is, the head of the Gardeners. I'm able to give you a lot more than just plans for the armistice. I'm planning on burning it all from within and making sure nothing like it can emerge from its ashes."

"Get me the information I asked for, and maybe then we can talk about other things," she waves her away.

"His name's Lyle."