Chapter Text
TheDrifter:
What made you want to become a soldier?
Broadsword:
No.
TheDrifter:
Ouch. Touchy subject?
Broadsword:
Do you think I know you well enough to jump into that?
TheDrifter:
No, probably not.
TheDrifter:
I’m just trying to get to know you better.
Broadsword:
Going right into my deep personal history isn’t the way to do it, mate.
Broadsword:
You have to buy a man a few drinks first.
TheDrifter:
Drinks first. *Then* personal questions. Got it.
Broadsword:
Heh. At least you learn quick.
~*~
If Silas ever saw Albrecht Entrati again, he would learn just how hard a full grown tenno could punch. It wasn’t due to dislike of the Hex, or wanting to back out of what Silas already set his mind to, it was out of the sheer audacity Entrati had. What did he even gain from this?
It was all Silas could think about, to the point of digging through all the logs on the local networks in the backroom, trying to find anything that explained the paradox that was Albrecht Entrati. He wished he could talk to Loid, who would be the perfect person to grant any insight into what in the Void Albrecht’s scenes were, if he was even still there at all.
At one point Silas left the backroom, needing a walk to try and clear his mind. He did not realize how late it was, until he saw how dark the mall was, moonlight pouring into the food court. He stood in the center of Lua’s beams, looking up at a night sky that was thousands of years older, yet he could make out the same constellations. He wondered if Ordis and Eden stared at the same constellations tonight.
“What’re you doin, Drifter?” The low rumble of Arthur’s voice startled Silas.
He turned. “Just getting some air.”
“Uh-huh,” Arthur held up something, a dark bottle with a colorful label. Silas took it, the glass cold to the touch. Arthur pulled up a chair, using a small metal tool to open his bottle, then held it out to Silas. He took it, and repeated Arthur’s motions. Sure enough, the cap popped off with a hiss. “See Quincy’s already found you new clothes.”
Silas sat on one of the tables. “Yes, believe it or not they're a lot comfier… and I don't mind the style.”
Arthur hummed, drinking.
“Is this… alcohol?”
“Don't tell me they've done away with it in the future.”
“Not exactly. Just never had it before,” Silas said sheepishly. He put the bottle to his lips, and sipped. It was bitter, and the fizziness felt strange to him. As it slid past his tongue and down his throat, it left a warm feeling. He wasn't sure if he liked it. “What is the point of ‘drinks’ anyways?” Silas set the bottle behind him.
“Sol, you are sheltered,” there was a hint of amusement in Arthur’s voice. “Eh, slows you down. Makes you appreciate the things you have, mourn the things you don’t. Makes life a little more interesting.”
“So for fun?”
“Unless you drink too much, then its not so fun.”
“Why not just… play a game or listen to music?”
Arthur scoffed. “Games are stressful and a lot of music is annoying. What do you do for fun?”
Silas hummed. “Sometimes if Eden is up for it, we play chess or other strategic board games. Sometimes we sit on opposite sides of the ship, reading. We have a little reading circle with us and Loid.”
“And Eden is…?”
“My alternate self. Or, more so I’m her alternate,” he waved with his hand. “Its… complicated. We’re the same person but not, and she’s been a child for hundreds of years.”
“Well thats… bloody confusing,” Arthur stood. “I’ll leave you to your walk.”
Silas felt the words lurch out of his throat. “Arthur, wait,” the other man paused. “I didn’t realize the questions I asked over KIM were personal. And I am sorry for that.”
“Eh, don’t sweat it,” Arthur said. “You’re alright.” He slightly raised his bottle and returned to his office, leaving Silas alone again.