The morning sun warmed his back.
Coffee's aroma filled the space around him.
Arthur sat in his office, reading over different mission reports.
He exhaled, placing his pen down.
The chairs leaned back, as he reached for an old journal.
Arthur's hand—
Rested.
On the worn leather.
Rose…
Steam rose from his mug.
His eyes—
Softened.
…I—
A knock came from the door.
Arthur straightened his posture, placing the journal away.
"Enter."
The door opened.
Art stepped into the office, closing it behind her.
She stood in front of Arthur's desk, her hands rested behind her.
"Good Morning."
Arthur motioned to a chair.
"Have a seat."
Art sat across from him.
"I've come to report."
Arthur reached for his mug.
"Continue."
Art's face tightened.
"The north was…"
The mug reached his lips.
Her eyes focused forward.
"…like a tomb."
Arthur placed his mug down.
"The fluid?"
Art exhaled.
"It was distributed…"
Her hand twitched.
"…into bodies."
Arthur picked up his pen, scribbling across a document.
"Anything else?"
Paper was shuffled through.
Art's eyebrows slightly raised.
"Kane…"
The pen clicked.
Her hand twitched.
"…killed a watchman."
Art's eyes—
Lowered.
Her movement—
Stopped.
Arthur's pen—
Rested.
Touching the paper.
Sunlight outlined the room.
Steam rose from the hot coffee.
The pen—
Clicked.
Continuing its scratching from before.
"He…"
Arthur's attention stayed on the paper.
"…proved his worth."
Art clenched her fist.
"It was different."
Arthur's eyes—
Raised.
His jaw—
Tightened.
"How?"
Art lifted her head.
"His movements were accurate…"
Her gaze fixed on Arthur.
"…almost too precise."
Arthur stopped writing.
His gaze—
Lowered.
The pen rested in his palm.
Precise…
Arthur focused—
Inward.
Processing his thoughts.
His finger—
Traced.
Moving along the top of the mug.
Art's ears—
Twitched.
Noticing the sudden change.
She tapped the desk.
"Do you know why?"
Arthur placed the pen down, leaning back in his chair.
His posture—
Relaxed.
"Your training paid off."
Art's head tilted.
That…
Her hand—
Clenched.
Resting at her side.
Arthur turned towards the window.
"If that is all, you may leave."
Art's lips—
Parted.
A word—
Formed.
Dissipating before leaving her lips.
She stood, pushing the chair back.
Her finger rested on her chin as she exited the office.
The door closed behind her.
Cool air flowed from the vent above her.
Her attention focused inward, as she headed for the courtyard.
Arthur observed the wasteland outside.
It's…
Wind shifted pebbles across the rocky ground.
He reached for the journal.
…too late.
Pages turned quickly.
His eyes fixed on a certain page.
Experiment 03—
Arthur continued.
—Malice.
…
Art's footsteps tapped against the stone floor.
Her gaze stayed on the ground.
He…
The courtyard fountain flowed steadily.
Sunlight refracted through the glass above.
Forks scraped across plates.
Grimm put his drink down.
"Art, come join us."
Her head raised towards the table.
She looked at Grimm.
Us?
Art walked closer.
Her eyebrows—
Twitched.
The air—
Distorted.
As if it was detached.
Kane sat—
Unnoticed.
Across from Grimm.
She stopped at the table.
Her eyes—
Focused.
"Oh…Kane."
Grimm pointed at the chair with his fork.
"Have a seat."
Art pulled the chair back.
"It's rare to see you two together."
Grimm stabbed his food.
"I know right."
Kane reached for his drink.
It rose—
Slowly.
Stopping at his mouth.
Grimm leaned over to Art.
His voice lowered.
"I tried to ask him about yesterday…"
His gaze moved to Kane.
"…but he won't answer me at all."
Art sighed.
"I get it."
Grimm moved away, lifting his fork.
"So what happened yesterday?"
Art glanced at Kane.
"We…"
Kane's drink—
Lowered.
A drop of water—
Flowed.
From the side of his lips.
She turned her attention to Grimm.
"…killed a watchman."
Kane's chains—
Shook.
Softly.
Art's hand—
Closed.
Resting on the table.
Grimm's fork—
Stopped.
His mouth—
Opened.
He lowered the fork, setting it on the plate.
A smirk—
Formed.
Across his face.
"Which one?"
Art relaxed her hands.
"The one from the train."
Grimm's head tilted up.
"What was his number again?"
Art's eyebrows furrowed.
"What does that have to do with anything?"
Grimm shook his head.
"Just tell me."
Art touched her temple.
"Fine…"
Her finger lowered.
"…III."
Grimm clicked his tongue.
"Two numbers above mine…"
He grabbed the fork, lifting it.
"…the next one I get will be higher."
Art shrugged.
"Suit yourself."
Their light conversation continued, eating mixed in between statements.
The sunlight warmed their table.
Kane was—
Motionless.
His mind—
Drifted inward.
Chains—
Rattled.
Their words—
Unheard.
Sunlight couldn't—
Reach.