That Friday morning, the project team congregated at their office building before proceeding to the train station. Only one of them had a car, so driving was out of the question; taking the train was more expensive, but it cut travel time in half.

Stevenson was absent, believing that the group could do the presentation on their own.

The tickets had been prebooked. If they hadn’t, surely a station ticket agent would’ve insisted on seating Dylan in a different class, away from his associates. He Glowed five times in the span of three minutes while waiting for the train, drawing stares and concerned glances from people around the station concourse.

Amber and Dylan occupied a left-side row of the train carriage. She talked about what had occurred between her and her Soulmate, Ross, the previous night. Dylan worked on his computer, fighting off quick, irregular waves of anxiety in his chest as the train sped to its destination. Not having the heart to tell Amber he didn’t care, he halfheartedly listened to compensate for his indifference.

Chris and Bryce shared the row behind Amber and Dylan. Chris watched the City turn to suburbia to countryside and then in reverse from his window. Bryce slept most of the way.

The row behind them sat Travis, who was wedged uncomfortably between a stranger and a wall.

Bryce could still hear his comments about Dylan’s Glow in his head; he almost didn’t go if it hadn’t been for the opportunity to apologise. It felt like an opportune chance to either A) apologise and rebuild the friendship between them, or B) denounce him as a friend altogether and assist each other only as work associates.

He preferred the first choice.

Bryce strove to restore his “good guy” status in the eyes of his project partners, a status lost as quickly as he had spoken, “Because of your Glow being defective?”. Fractured self-esteem had been the driving force for Bryce to go along with the excursion, to find some form of resolution and move forward with his friendship with Dylan.

In reality, no friendship existed between the two. It was clear that Dylan preferred Chris, Amber, and Travis’ company above everyone, but even that relationship was an ungodly balancing act on Dylan’s part.

The only genuine exception was that of Amber and Chris, who were not only work associates but also neighbours in the same building.

But Bryce didn’t know that.

The remainder of the morning was spent checking into the hotel, figuring out sleeping arrangements, and then proceeding towards the office building where their presence was due at two thirty-five.

“…now, what you wanted was more of a subdued marketing aspect,” Amber explained again, pointing to the several graphs that outlined the company’s present financial year for the smartly-dressed gentleman sitting before them. “Unfortunately, your fiscal means of doing so would bring you teetering towards bankruptcy, if the spending amount you’ve quoted to us is correct. That also means that, with what you desire, your ‘subtle’ marketing campaign just doesn’t have the financial means. Now, with that said,” Amber began, flipping the poster to reveal another series of graphs, “that doesn’t mean you can’t do something even less noticeable.” She pointed to a possible advert located at a bus stop; the ad itself was unassuming and clever. “With this concept, it’s simple, straightforward, is easy to print, and with the potential to increase profits by at least 3% within the first month of implementing them, according to your City’s transit statistics.” Amber stepped back to allow the man to process the information wholly.

The man began nodding. “Impressive. And yes, the amount we gave you was correct. I see the benefits here, but I still want to try for the subdued marketing campaign that we envisioned for ourselves.” The man was about to speak again before he glanced at the others.

Dylan was nodding off despite sitting up straight and his hands folded on the table; the only reason he hadn’t collapsed was because Chris kept a hand on his shoulder. Bryce was waiting for some command and Travis was emailing a friend about the weekend.

All had done what they needed to do, but Amber’s presentation was the one thing that ran longer than everyone’s.

“Sir,” Amber began, her grey eyes watching Dylan, “I would be happy to stay later to discuss this with you if it meant they could go.”

“Well, marketing was all I really needed to discuss.” He gestured to the men on the other side of the table. “Gentleman, feel free to excuse yourselves for the afternoon.”

Travis, too lost in figuring out what a ‘barbeque salad brunch’ was, jolted when Bryce tapped his shoulder. “What?”

“Come on, we’re heading out.”

“But…Amber isn’t done with her presentation.”

“He dismissed us.”

Travis sprang to his feet while Dylan struggled to get to his. Throwing his bag over his shoulder, Travis slipped out the door and stretched up and out, while Dylan did the same. The other men followed suit. “So,” Travis announced, clasping his hands together, “there were some pubs that I saw walking over here, and I wanted to – ”

Travis was interrupted by the sound of Dylan cracking his knuckles. “I think I’m just going to go back to the hotel,” Dylan said, rubbing his heavy eyelids.

“You’re going to miss the fun,” Travis told him, in a tone that sounded like he was trying to entice a four-year-old.

Dylan smiled wearily before putting his hands up. “I really should go back. I have too much I need to work on.”

There was a moment of silence where no one seemed to argue against Dylan’s reasoning. Bryce wanted to say something against Dylan going back but found nothing suitable.

“Do you want us to bring you back something?” asked Chris.

Running his hand along the side of his face and frowning upon feeling the rough stubble, Dylan shook his head. “No thanks. I…I think I’ll probably just, pick something up from the corner store by the hotel.”

They all nodded in understanding. “Be careful walking back,” Chris whispered.

“Don’t die in a foreign city, mate,” came Bryce’s teasing response. Chris was appalled by the comment, but Dylan knew it was trying to be lighthearted.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything? A pint? Chips? Anything?” asked Travis.

Dylan shook his head again. “No, I appreciate it, though. I just, I have too much work to do still.” Taking an almost hesitant step back towards the elevator lobby, he asked, “Are you coming down to the lobby, or are you taking the fire exit out?” Bryce was the first to move forward, following in Dylan’s footsteps. Travis and Chris followed along after.

Their evening was upon them.