While Adam and Silvana were preparing to meet Tron and Riska in a remote part of the Citadel, someone noticed his return.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The rubber ball bounced off the wall, returning to the man, only for him to throw it back. It was nothing more than a ritual for someone who was bored or deep in thought.
"He's back, again."
Gladius smirked, lying on iron crates more suited to a laboratory than a typical warehouse.
"You know what his conditions are, don't you? What are you going to do about it?"
The man on the other side of the room sat at a simple table, sipping hot, black coffee. His amber eyes were as deep as ever, full of wisdom, coldness, and calculation.
"Are you suggesting something? As I see it, he's doing just fine without our help."
Gladius shrugged, catching the ball.
