"The latest surveillance on the Council, sir."

Amon's heart pounded a little harder, but he turned calmly enough on his heel. "Excellent," he said, keeping the impatience out of his voice. "Sort through them, Lieutenant, except for one. I'll take the report on the new Councilman."

His Lieutenant nodded, handed over the pertinent report unsmiling, but Amon saw the admiring worship, ever-present, in his goggled eyes. No questions. It made sense, after all, for the leader of the Equalists to learn as much as he personally could about a potential new threat.

The mask was a blessing, hid his wide eyes and the way he bit his lip as he opened the report and was faced with a covert photo of Councilman Tarrlok. Black and white, leaving a building, but Amon could picture the blues of his coat, the tawny highlights of his hair.

So confident. So ambitious. So unlike the pleading child he'd abandoned.

Resorting to hostile reports to learn about his brother was, in no conceivable way, healthy, but it was all Amon had, so after taking in the new, sharp details of Tarrlok's face, he turned to the closely written sheets.

Meetings, of course. Frictions in his interactions with Tenzin; Amon approved and disapproved both. His brother was a politician, and all sources indicated that he was a good one. He should have been able to charm any opponent. On the other hand, the airbender really was a pompous old windbag, pun unintended.

A rich social life. Galas, events, fund-raisers, a steady stream of fair-weather friends held in suitably low regard. A number of, as it were, independent older women, vying for Tarrlok's attention. Amon wasn't entirely sure how he felt about that, couldn't help but imagine them trying to take advantage of an innocent brother that hadn't existed for decades.

And no actual friends, which was a wise move for a politician, but worrisome for a brother.

Lastly, a long list that, for a moment, Amon mistook for a grocery list until he recognised the names. Restaurants, and few of them high-end. Usually take-out from wherever was closest, and it proved a motley run-down of junk food, rolls, street-side soups and yet more junk food. What the hell had Tarrlok been eating? Amon flipped back to the photo, and looked it over again with a far more paranoid eye. Was Tarrlok perhaps looking a little wan? Did his shoulders droop just a bit? Perhaps an uncomfortable edge to that practised smile?

No. No! It would not do!

"Lieutenant," he said sharply.

The man snapped to attention immediately. "Sir?"

"I need you to arrange for a… a present to be sent to Councilman Tarrlok." It finally occurred to him that he needed a better explanation than have you seen what he's eating?and he turned to face his Lieutenant, calm as he could. "For now, we would be well-served by," by what? dammit, think! "making him," dinner? that was ridiculous, "comfortable in the city. Think himself safer than he is." Yes. That was good. It even drove the bemusement from the Lieutenant's eyes. Amon fully expected more questions tonight, in private, but for now it did nicely.

"Of course, sir," he said. "What sort of present?"

Tarrlok stared at the basket as if it would bite him.

"Oh, looks like someone has another secret admirer," his secretary clucked, setting down a stack of paper on the corner of his desk. "What's that say? 'To your health'? How thoughtful!"

"What," Tarrlok said, carefully picking up one of the fruits nestled artistically in a nest of green leaves, "is this thing?" It was round and spiked and not much bigger than to rest comfortably in his palm. It looked deadly, in his opinion.

"That's a pineorange," his secretary said. "Just grab a spike and peel it. They're very healthy, chock-full of vitamins. Someone's looking out for you!"

"I suppose someone is," Tarrlok said, still staring at the horrible little thing as if it was about to explode. "I think I'd prefer a card, though."