Noah was already halfway down the corridor before he caught himself walking faster than he needed to.
He slowed down.
Then he thought about the storage room and the charcoal grey leggings and sped back up again without deciding to.
'You're a grown man,' he told himself, his boots clicking against the metal floor. 'You have killed things the size of buildings. You have a tail now when you get too emotional. You can walk to a yoga session at a normal pace.'
He rounded the corner toward the lower level and immediately stopped.
The training bay on the left had its blast doors rolled back, which was unusual for this hour, and the sound coming out of it was not the standard percussion of recruits working the heavy bags. It was different. Sharper. The specific rhythm of an actual fight rather than a drill, the kind where both people were trying and one of them was losing.
Noah looked through the open doors.
