"Alright, give me a rundown," I asked our comrade in red, who began to scan the hefty file in his arms.

"We're doing a routine check on a match of four years on Rheta Rook, a thirty-three-year-old female, and Quill Quentin, a thirty-five-year-old male." He began, reading through lensed eyes.

"A Rook and Quentin, huh? This is our first run with these two, any notes from the previous surveyors?" I inquired as we entered a highway, now leaving the shadows of the buildings looming over us in the concrete jungle.

"Oh, it also says the two give discounts to surveyors who help them at the local salon they run."

Well, that's one way to give us some info on their occupations.

"Other than that, the overall reports are positive, stating that the pair are honest, kind, and good at explaining their situation and listening to and executing suggestions." Keith continued with a brief but concise explanation, a valuable skill when sorting through lengthy and detailed files of our clientele.

"Though their pictures look a bit imposing..." He added, his voice turning softer and tinged with some worry.

"Don't look so anxious. Since, if those reports are anything to go by, we'll be fine." I assured our intern, turning around to face him, "And judging by the number of papers in that folder, they've gone through this process a heck of a lot." The number of entries in a client's file was usually a good indicator of one thing - age.

Each file folder in aiAI's Alexandrian library of documents acted as a unique and detailed dossier on a person and their relationship. So, the number of papers in a folder gave us a rough idea of how many times a surveyor pair had visited them. And each new entry painted the image of the couple with higher and greater fidelity.

Sure, it could mean that they were keeping up with the checks to make sure everything was going well, or it could mean that they were always running into problems. But I'd gladly take it over dealing with a couple with little to no data.

Our intern flipped through the pages held by the clearly aged fastener, still seeming apprehensive even as I and the documents reassured him but nonetheless ready.

We took another turn away from the beaten track as the road turned more cracked and worn.

"Yeesh, any note on why they live in the woods?" The road led to a cluster of trees in the distance - the once calm asphalt seas turned to jagged concrete as we made our way to our client's dwelling.

"Last month's report says that they recently moved here and that we should take note to inquire about the situation," Keith replied before closing the folder.

Perfect, we're going to get murdered in B-movie horror style. I call dibs on comic relief!

"Just to reiterate," Keith began, handing me the folder, "You and Myla will do most of the talking, and I'll just write down anything of note?" He continued as I returned the file to the car's glove box.

"For the most part, yes. Since this is just a scheduled assessment, our main objective is to collect data and plan accordingly." Myla stated in a stiff but confident tone.

"Yep, which means this comes down to how much our clients are willing to share, but that means we'll have to be as equally receptive or at least receptive-looking to succeed," I added, which made our third member raise his eyebrows in surprise.

"Hmm? What's the matter?" I asked.

"Oh, I just found it intriguing that even before we've met our clients, you two are already playing your designated roles." He explained, though I still didn't quite understand what he meant.

"Ah, you mean as a surveyor pair, correct?" Myla inquired as we entered the underbrush - light leaving the skies and appearing over my head.

"You mean that whole spiel about one of us targeting the emotional aspect of the relationship and the other taking the logistics and practical details?" I said in an almost sarcastic tone gaining the curiosity of one and the ire of the other.

While this was how aiAI would sell the idea to you, the reality was, as always, far grayer than an idealistic monochrome. In most cases, Myla and I would have to play both roles since neither of us could ignore the simple fact that a relationship cannot stand on common sense or emotions alone. And we, as surveyors, knew that best.

"I guess I think it's interesting that aiAI took into account how essential balance is in a relationship by splitting you up into pairs like that." He said with a somewhat thoughtful look in his eyes.

While it was nice to hear Keith held a similar opinion on the matter, the way he spoke of it and his solemn expression belaid the reason for his actions thus far.

Myla noticed it too, and while unmoving in her own cold expression, her eyes and ears were just as observant as mine, scrutinizing Keith's words as she navigated the isolated roads.

I nudged her, getting a frozen dagger launched at me as she gave me a cold glare that felt unintentional as she lost herself in thought.

Friendly fire! Stand down, stand down!

Still, as she realized that I wasn't her foe and was actually her sworn enemy, I gave her a look, motioning to Keith, telling her that we effectively had to make sure we were paying attention to three clients at once during this visit.

We eventually crossed through the narrow and winding concrete, finding ourselves neatly parked on a small area of relatively flat gravel, our feet sinking into the conglomerate as it parted with each step.

"Well, this looks quaint."

It put the phrase humble abode into reality with its cedar plank walls and a roof only extending twenty feet at most, easily dwarfed by the slim oaks surrounding it. And while sparsely decorated with only a few potted plants adorning the small cabin's patio, the dense vegetation and tranquil ambiance made up for the home's plainness with natural flair - the only out-of-place detail being the SUV parked in front of the residence.

Maybe if I burst into a song here, I'll attract a horde of animals. Now I just have to film and sell that to parents and their kids until I have enough money to rule the world. Ha! Like that'd ever happen.

"Oh? We're here at the back! There's a gate here. Come on over!" a deep yet feminine voice called out from behind the house, beckoning us to explore more of the woodland dwelling.

We walked on the bluestone path that lined the uneven gravel, leading us to the picket fence on the side of the cabin - the rest of the picturesque home was revealing itself to us.

A brick and birch gazebo sat amidst the dew-kissed grass that danced along the soft autumn breeze, which whistled together with the sound of swaying branches and the soft, cheerful murmurs of two people. The couple sat happily in the structure, surrounded by the greenery. And as they saw us enter, their eyes lit up with more color than the small clusters of wildflowers in the bushes.

"There you lot are! Get in 'ere! Have a seat!" The woman shouted toward us, raising her arms higher than her alto-pitched voice.

Rheta Rook. She was an owner and stylist of a salon in the area. The woman held a look and aura that screamed rebellious rock from her black inverted bob cut with a cherry red streak outlining it or the ring-like piercing on her ear that combined with her strong eyebrows to make her look almost intimidating. Adding onto it was her loose black shirt, topped with a contrastingly tight leather jacket and denim pants made me hesitate to call her a woman and more inclined toward the word renegade.

"Good timing. Hope the road wasn't too rough." An even deeper - bass-filled voice stated shortly, the source is the second half of today's equation.

Quill Quentin. Co-owning and managing the business with his partner was the heavily bearded man in front of me. While wearing masculinity and a lumberjack jacket on his sleeves, the intricate, almost maze-like braids his hair took as it converged into a single bun advertised his rather peculiar career. And yet his face felt teddybear-like, with imposing features but gentle eyes.

Or maybe because it looks like he'd use my month's worth of shampoo in a day.

Besides that, their physical appearances created a fun mismatch with their personalities and descriptions, according to past reports - explaining our third comrade's earlier unease regarding their photos.

The disparity between them and the literal fairy-tale forest behind them is also just peachy. Like seeing a cartoon character become a symbol of the horrors of capitalism. Wait, didn't I already make this joke?

We walked through the grassy field and into the structure as our footsteps echoed on the wooden stairs. The three of us found our seats across from the couple, who looked at us with curious expressions.

"I was under the impression you surveyors worked in pairs. Who's the third lad in red over there?" Miss Rook asked, facing our now somewhat flustered apprentice.

"Oh, sorry, he's sort of our assistant slash intern. He just got in the other day, so communications must've forgotten to inform you about him." I explained apologetically, which caused our client to correct my assumption.

"Ah, I didn't mean it in a bad way! It's just, Quill over here made just enough for four people." She turned to her partner, who only let out a sigh - seemingly of the same opinion.

Keith raised his hands in front of him, "It's okay. I'm just here to assist, after all. Please, pay me no mind."

"Welp, you heard 'em," I began before clapping my hands to get their attention, "Let's get properly acquainted then. I'm Bridger Blaithe, this trusty headache of mine is..." I held my hand out toward my dear partner to let her continue.

"Myla Marika." She stated briefly.

I did the same to our apprentice after her detailed introduction, "Keith Kirby." He replied with similar enthusiasm.

Wonderful. Now there are two of them.

I thought to myself half-jokingly. In reality, I was pretty confident in our performance for today, as unplanned as our structuring and work allocation were. Keith proved from our first meeting his propensity to observe and deliberate, something indispensable as a surveyor.

"Feel free to call us Rheta and Quill if you'll allow us the same courtesy, ey?" Rheta added, the three of us nodding in agreement.

"With that out of the way then," Myla spoke with her trademark cold, "Let's begin the routine assessment for Quill Quentin and Rheta Rook." And she continued, now holding pen and clipboard at the ready.

"She just means we're gonna talk about your love life for the next hour or so, don't worry." I quickly reassured our pair, who smiled at my quip.

"We might be here for longer than an hour if you say it like that." The renegade-looking woman shot back, causing three out of five people in the gazebo to share a laugh.

"In all seriousness, let's actually begin. So, how have both of you been since last month?" I followed up, crossing my legs and leaning in to welcome conversation.

Rheta slid one of the platters of pastries toward us, "We've been doing...Fine? For the most part, at least. It's just been a tad hectic with jugglin' moving here and work is all."

"Understood," Myla replied before writing it down, taking one of the baked treats, and following with another query, "Have you fully settled here at your new home? And as for your work, have there been any complications following your move?"

"We're getting used to the new place. The only difference with work is the longer commute. The month's been tough but worth it." Quill explained shortly but with a warm tone, a simultaneous contrast and echo of my dear partner's own succinct frigidity.

The exchange and collection of information continued smoothly, the words they used to describe their exploits as sweet as the snacks they prepared for us.

I know it sounds wrong to categorize people, let alone our clients - but I could safely place Rheta and Quill in the easy-to-deal-with category of our clientele.

To put it shortly and simply, they had a long-running relationship with a consistently good track record. And multiple reports stating their willingness and honesty toward surveyors spoke to their place in my arbitrary classifications.

As the conversation continued, my point became more and more validated. Their answers were short and simple but perfectly concise. Both knew when and what to elaborate on without being prompted to, and each response they loosed made me think they learned how to deal with surveyors better than we knew how to deal with them.

"I'd say we've done plenty fine for ourselves out here. Other than that, we've just gone through the days without much happenin'." Rheta finished once they had summarized their uneventful but fruitful journey over the month.

As I analyzed her tone and expression, however, I sensed that there was more to know, "Judging by how you said that, there's more, huh?" I inched forward a bit more to hear their reply.

"Well, if we could, it'd be nice to get some more time together again." A bassy voice began, followed up by its alto-toned counterpart.

"The combined load from the house and work haven't really done us any favors, you see. It's nothing major, but it'd be nice to get youse ideas on it."

It made sense on paper and in context. A new house meant money, which meant work, and that only continued even after you moved in. First, it meant you had to recover from the weighty purchase. And second, you had to deal with the new challenges of maintenance and ownership your new home welcomed you with.

What surprised me, however, was that the problem they decided to bring up was shockingly simple, one of the most basic in the book that I practically had the response memorized by now - which made the fact that it came from these two all the more unexpected.

I turned to Myla, who seemed to be on a similar train of thought, and as she tapped her clipboard with her pen, we exchanged a glance before responding.

"Do you prefer to do things with schedules or more spontaneous activities?" Myla laid the foundation first, getting us started toward an answer.

The two looked at each other in thought before Rheta placed a finger to her cheek and answered, "Something consistent and scheduled would be nice," to which Quill nodded in agreement.

"Ah, then that's settled." I said, placing down the glass of water to get their attention, "Alright, here's what we got. We'll see if we can schedule something, some activity related to the house. It doesn't have to be anything crazy, just something both of you can do every week or so, y'know?" I offered an answer that had left my mouth more than once throughout my stay in aiAI.

"If you'd like, we could also aid you in planning an outing if perhaps that's more in line with what you want," Myla added, transitioning seamlessly from my words to hers.

"Oh, yeah, that sounds well and good." The woman replied with an expression as bright as the crimson streak of her hair.

"So, when's the plan?" The bearded man continued to which I placed a hand to my chin and replied with a contemplative hmm.

"Well, we'll think about it for a bit. To that end, we'll stay in touch, and you can phone in when you guys are free for another meeting, m'kay?"

At the end of the day, we were here to observe and assess, not to solve anything just yet. Each problem was different, with each person responding to them differently. Throw in the fact that you had two people facing each problem, four if you include us, and you had a hodgepodge of possibilities for what at first seemed like similar problems. But what never differs is the process, which meant step one always began with an evaluation.

"Alright, that's all the time we've got for today, folks!" I announced, trying my best to imitate those gameshow hosts, which are just a little bit too nice for a cynical bastard like me to trust.

"Thank you for the time. We'll hope to see you soon." Myla bid her own farewell as she stood up, holding the clipboard to her side and nodding.

"Yep, you're our first clients for the day, so we'll be on our way," I added, getting up and gesturing to Keith to do the same.

"Oh, yes. Thank you as well." Our apprentice said, getting a smile from the two, who seemed to appreciate his endearing quietness.

"Roger that then. Have a safe trip 'ya three!" Rheta exclaimed with a friendly tone, as warm and inviting as the abode they called home.

We waved back before beginning to walk to the gazebo's steps. As my dear partner led the way, I thought that the first task of the day went off without a hitch until,

"Oh, umm, this might not be my place to ask, but..." Our apprentice suddenly began, stopping us before we reached the first step.

Rheta and Quill paused just as we did, awaiting Keith's query, which arrived with his uneasy voice, "If it's not overstepping, I just wanted to ask," our ears honed in on his following words, sensing importance in them.

"Have you perhaps ever wanted to spend less time together? I know it sounds strange considering what you just told us, but..." His question echoed only once throughout the nooks and crannies of the tree-shaded expanse, and yet it reverberated in my ears over and over again as I readied myself to ponder them.

The four of us remained quiet, the forest's ambiance taking hold of the air around us as we awaited a response or an elaboration.

Crap, we're his superiors. We've gotta say something for insurance, at least.

But before I could get a handle on the situation, an answer found its way to our apprentice.

"Sometimes." A voice spoke, to which, when I turned, I was faced with the deliberative but smiling Quill, "Making sure you spend just the right amount of time together is healthy for any relationship, I think." He continued, turning to his other half, who was grinning.

Rheta put an arm around her partner before she spoke, "Yeah, pretty much. Think about it this way - if we hold back on spending time with each other, it makes the time we do get feel all the better, eh?" She finished, happily holding her love as she laid her head on him.

"Ah, thank you," Keith spoke those words with the most clarity, ensuring his gratefulness was heard and understood.

Once he did, a look of contentment appeared on his face, and he went between us and down the stairs, headed to the car without a word or glance to share for Myla and me.

We followed behind him after sharing a quick look of "what was that all about?" eventually reaching the car which Keith had already entered.

We opened the doors to the front seat - Myla turned on the engine and began the drive out, the silence not comforting but suffocating this time.

The atmosphere was heavy with questions and yet unmoving in its state. The way the wheels of the car bobbed up and down made it feel unstable - as if any more than a nudge would destroy the quiet air in the metal cage.

Keith looked out into the passing scenery, the shadows that moved across his face as the thoughts that I presumed swirled through his head.

Myla was similarly entranced, her solid expression hiding the fact that she was steadily piecing together an answer to the steady tune of the vehicle's whir.

And, of course, there was me, trying my best to think of something to end the silence and start a conversation that would give us the answers we needed.

"...So, they bake some pretty good danishes, huh?"

The response was delayed, but it was far from positive, "Bridger, that was your best shot?" Myla asked, seeming to understand the intent but far too disappointed by the execution to care.

"I'm with Myla here. That was pretty bad." Keith doubled down, not letting me recover from the three-way attack between him, Myla, and my conscious.

"Look, okay? At least I try!" I stated, getting double the amount of sighs I was used to.

"...Alright," Keith began just as we exited the leaf litter, light beginning to shed on us and perhaps even... "The reason I did this. I'll tell you when we go on break. I promise."