He blinked twice, swallowed, and slid off the couch. The apartment smelled faintly of yesterday's cold noodles and stale coffee. He tossed the blanket aside, stretched his spine, and flexed his fingers, old burn marks on his palm tingling.
—
Lucen met Varik in the lobby fifteen minutes later. The air in the elevator hummed slightly, filtered, recycled, cold.
Varik looked composed as always, hands folded behind his back. "You slept?"
Lucen nodded once. "Like a corpse."
Varik smirked faintly. "Good." He turned, and Lucen followed out into the morning street. Outside, the sun still low, the exhaust smell tangy and metallic.
"A new shift?" Lucen asked after a block.
Varik gestured toward a sleek black lightning-blue car parked at the curb. "Guild says we're on standby. Expecting breach anywhere in the sector."
Lucen settled in beside him. "Expecting me to swing again?"
Varik glanced over. "You showed up as a wildcard. That's valuable."
Lucen let that settle.
—
