Lara watched as Jonathan checked in once more with the soldiers before heading back to the exit. “Alright,” he said, taking a breath. “Let’s do it.”

The door before him slid open, and he descended the steps of the train.

She followed him down, but was caught off guard when she looked up to find his outstretched hand.

Lara took it, allowing him to support her as she stepped down. She stamped out the sensation she felt rising in her chest as he did, and promptly pulled away her hand once she was stable.

He said something, but she couldn’t hear him past the anxiety filling her mind as she took note of all of the eyes watching them.

When she’d originally arrived in Circa, the streets had been bustling, and she’d been nearly invisible to the majority of the populace. None had questioned the trolley and, even in the Freehelm attire, no one had taken notice.

Now, standing before a growing crowd of people lining the buildings around them, gawking at their presence, Lara recognized how real the fragility of the situation was.

It took her a moment to realize that the only difference between her initial arrival in Gurram, and her arrival now, was her companion.

A booming voice broke her from her ruminations, “Why I’ll be struck. Is that ‘im?”

The two turned to find a great, burly man heading directly toward them. Lara’s confidence jumped at the familiarity of the stall-keeper who’d helped her the night before. She was about to greet him when she was beaten by Jonathan.

“Well, that depends on who’s asking.” Jonathan’s voice had increased in decibel and bass. And though it was unable to match in volume, it did an amusing job holding its own.

He stopped about a foot away and the two stood opposite one another. He stared Jonathan down. “I didn’t think it was possible for ye to get skinnier.”

“I didn’t think it was possible for you to get bigger. What’re you eating, houses?”

He bellowed a laugh. “These shacks?!” Lifting a bag, he continued. “Meat. That’s what yer missing up there’n yer ivory tower -- real meat.”

They clutched arms then pulled in for a hug that appeared to crush Jonathan. He was further exacerbated by a heavy handed pat on his back.

“Argh!” He yelled, barely managing a laugh as he was released. “If the badlands didn’t kill me, that almost did.”

“Aye, it’s a good reminder, in case y’get soft! And -- oi, what’s this!” He yelled, finally taking notice of Lara.

“This is Lara Ravenswood.” Jonathan turned to her. “She’s part of the reason I’m down here.” He added, much to her embarrassment,

A great grin covered his friend’s face. “Lil’ miss! Didn’t think I’d be seein’ y’again so soon.”

Lara gave a small wave and a smile, not used to being called “little”. “We’ve met.”

“And now I’ve got a name!” He said. “But introduce ‘er and y’won’t introduce me, that’s bad blood!”

Jonathan glanced between the two. “I thought you said you’ve met!”

“Agh, I’m just yankin ye -- Karga!” He announced.

“Nice to meet you again, Karga.”

“How’d the wee lad make it back?”

Lara felt her smile slip as Jonathan’s eyes shot to her, and she looked anywhere but at him.

But Jonathan didn’t skip a beat. “‘Wee lad’?”

“Aye, smol tot, the kind y’never see anymore. Wouldn’t stop crying, probably why his eyes were so blue. Until Lara here took ‘im back!”

Lara’s grin had dropped completely now, as she stared at a space between the onlookers past the two.

“What did she do?”

“That’s the thing: I ain’t got a clue!” Karga began to laugh, “We were just eatin’ and talkin’ -- well, she was eatin’,” he corrected. “I was talkin’. And outta nowhere this wee, lil’ thing comes up to ‘er, snot and tears. Couldn’t handle me, nope. Wailed the moment I opened my mouth.”

“Did he?” Jonathan asked.

“Aye. Only thing that’d calm ‘im down was Lara.”

Lara turned to Karga, avoiding eye contact with Jonathan, “It was your food, not me.”

“HA!” Karga bellowed. “With the way he hid behind yer skirts when I only looked at ‘im?!”

Lara shook her head, “We wouldn’t have made it to Freehelm without your directions. You’re the only reason he got back to--”

She stopped, having accidentally glanced at Jonathan, who watched her like a hawk.

Lara continued, reasserting herself. “To his parents.”

Aloof, Karga nodded approvingly. “Good! What were they like? Nannies? Probably spoilin’ ‘im rotten?”

At that moment, Jonathan finally looked back at Karga, “I don’t know, Karga, are we?”

“What’d’ye mean ‘are we’. Are ye what--” Karga froze, stammering on his own words. His face flickered and he slammed his hand down on Jonathan’s shoulder. “That’s your son?”

Jonathan stood his ground. “That he is.”

The street was quiet in spite of the conglomerate observing the exchange.

They stood at a stalemate, unyielding. Lara glanced between the two when she was startled by Karga’s outburst.

“A SON. That’s how oft ye come down here. Been gone long enough to hide a son!” He took his hand off of Jonathan’s shoulder, instead slamming another heavy pat on the back. Karga’s laugh was infectious, spreading to Jonathan, and then to some of the crowd.

“Oi! Y’know, down ‘ere, beyond yer Ivory Tower, we don’t need a reason to drink,” Karga held up the bags of meat in his other hand. “But a child’s the best excuse we have.”

“No -- I couldn’t.” Jonathan half-heartedly fended him off, “I didn’t do anything. I just--”

“Agh! We all know what y’did, ye just did it better than the rest of us, aye?!” Karga’s crude humor sent a jolt of energy through the onlookers, who fluctuated with a wave of snickers and a few crass howls.

“No, I--”

Despite the urge to let him struggle, and her own chagrin that she fought not to acknowledge, Lara jumped back in. “We’d love to, but we’re actually working, Karga. Do you know the mother of the son who was attacked last night in Quadrant 2?”

Silence swiftly returned to the street.

Karga’s face hardened. “Why?”

“We’d like to speak with her.”

“What for?”

Jonathan jumped to her defense. “Karga, we’re here of our own accord.”

“I just want to offer her my condolences,” Lara said, trying again.

“Aye, that’s what y’want, but what about what she wants? She probably wants a lot of things right now. She deserves ‘er right to privacy.”

Lara wanted to contest, but the sentiment resonated with her. Her own limits had been tested for the last 24-hours. Dejected, she agreed.

“Good. Now, let’s be done ‘ere with this business. Yer not leavin’ until yer bellies have some real meat an’ ale.”

The crowd murmured as he pushed Lara and Jonathan along with both hands, leading them down the street until they accepted their fate and began to walk independently alongside him.

As if already forgetting the exchange, Karga began again. “So, what is it y’ve been doing up in yer ivory tower all this time?”

“Both too much and not enough,” Jonathan responded.

Karga gave an exaggerated “HA”. “Wouldn’t be much regretting down here. When y’got less, everything seems fuller. ‘Cept you. Scrawny as all the skeletons scattered out there.”

“Hey! I eat.”

“Not right! It’s meat that fills you up and it’s meat that has to be made the right way. None of them polished ‘nd stripped scraps they give ye up there.”

“Finally fulfilling your dream of roasting everything that moves then, Karga?”

Karga rustled his moustache, “I know about the tallies -- those audits -- ye like to do up there. You won’t get an answer out of me that easily. I make real meat. I make it right. Ye may act tough, but they’re probably starvin’ ye so much up there you’d dance like a chicken for a real chicken.”

“Are you calling me a traitor, or are you telling me you have chicken? Because if you do have chicken, I’m just saying, that dance can be arranged.”

They laughed together, continuing on their path of nonsensical banter while Lara uncomfortably smiled at onlooking passersby each time she noticed them staring at her. It was a strange combination of unnerving familiarity, one reminiscent of another life.

As they approached Karga’s stall, Lara zoned back into the conversation, which seemed to have come full-circle from Jonathan’s day-to-day in the Lissome, and returned to Karga’s passion project: meat.

“Yer still not getting that information from me; secret’s secret,” Karga said in response to Jonathan’s inquiry about his method of obtaining his prey. “But I’ll give ye a bone with regards to taste. I always say it’s all the meat, but half is in the prep. Rub and marinade!”

“Who would’ve guessed,” Jonathan said, with a hint of sarcasm in his tone that made Lara’s lips twitch at their corners. “How can I trust the words of a man with a swathy history?”

Karga slammed down his plastic bags on the prep stands behind the counter. “I’m as honorable as honorable gets!”

“I think that depends on who’s definition we’re going by. I still remember your attempts at that toxic sludge you used to call a marinade out there, past the border.”

“And that, right there’s exactly why I oughta be trusted more than any one of those fancy chefs ye have up there in ye tower. Out there, the real badlands shape a man -- sharpen his skills so he can sharpen his tools and survive.” Karga leaned in closer across the counter. “When ye start with the absolute, bloody worst, ye can only get better!”

Jonathan stroked the shadow of hair on his jaw, considering Karga’s response. “Alright, I’ll give you that. But it’s beginning to sound like something that required this much training and experience to perfect takes time.”

Karga bellowed, “Of course!”

“How long, exactly, until we’re digging in?”

“Why, three or four hours. Just enough time to get drinks in yer bellies!” He turned, reaching for the cylinders on his shelves.

“I propose that you give us two of those hours.”

Karga paused, looking back at him, “What d’y’mean?”

Jonathan blinked and responded confidently. “We did come out here for some work, after all. We’d like to use two of those hours investigating.” As he saw Karga’s retort coming, he added, “We won’t approach the woman. We’ll just be surveying the area.”

Karga was speechless for a moment, caught trying to find his words, when he finally closed his mouth and gave Jonathan a hard, suspicious look. A few seconds passed before he started again. “What I don’t understand’s: you’re Q4, not Q2. Why’re you lookin into their mess?”

Lara looked at the ground, ready for Jonathan to realize that the entire idea had been wholly illogical, and to remember that she was the one behind it.

In her mind, she could already hear him agreeing with Karga, coming to the conclusion that her plans had no value or merit in the grand scheme of things. This entire mess had only even happened because of her mistake -- because of how badly she’d screwed up the only moment of independence she’d been given. He wouldn’t have followed her into Gurram if he’d known that she’d fallen -- jumped -- out of a building the night before, trying to complete a task his underling had given her.

I should’ve stayed in my room, she thought. Waiting for instructions.

“Spills spread, Karga, as does restlessness.” Jonathan met his gigantic companion eye-to-eye. “Both need to be contained. Do you believe I’d like to sit back and allow myself to be fed filtered information by Q2?”

Karga thought for a while before sighing. “Even now, still getting yerself into trouble.” He looked at Lara. “He sucks everything and everyone in with him. That’s how it always happens. Careful ye don’t get sucked in, too.”

Lara tried to hide her shame behind several blinks before contesting. “I think it’s the other way around this time.”

“Look at that, she’s too kind for yer trouble,” he said pointedly to Jonathan before reluctantly giving them directions.