A startling slam interrupts the rare dimly-lit silence of the small apartment.

"Home early," I mumble from the couch, not bothering to waver my eyes from my current piece of instructional reading. It was vastly uninteresting but Caleb had sent it, insisting that it was "just my type" and "perfect for a Dauntless figure of importance".

Tobias huffs frustratingly before his bag hits the tile with a thud. Settling himself on the sofa next to me, he examines the book in my hands.

History and Physics of the Modern Gun

"Please don't tell me you're going Erudite on me, too," he exhales loudly, "I've had enough of those bastards today."

I close her book and look at Tobias intently for a moment.

"What?" Tobias snaps grouchily.

I stifle a chuckle before walking to the small kitchen to tend to the boiling tea kettle on the stove.

Tobias leans on the counter to face me. "Doesn't my little Erudite want to know how my day went?"

I shoot him a glare. "Frankly not, Four."

"Well I bet you'll be just peachy to know who's training the transfers this year," Tobias chimes sarcastically.

I walk back to the couch with my cup of tea and pick up the book again. "Who?"

Tobias follows me into the room. "You and me,"

I choke on her tea momentarily, setting my book and mug down before looking up at Tobias with surprised eyes. "What? Why? I thought Eric said that the-"

"Oh, Eric has his ways," Tobias shakes his head, "It's just you and me; Lynn and Uri if we're lucky. Maybe Chris."

I huff. "Great,"

"Could be worse. Eric could train the transfers." Tobias adds.

I let out a chuckle. "And have the poor kids soil their pants? I think you're scary enough," I smirk jokingly.

He drops his jaw in mock-surprise. "And here I thought you were the only one who thought I wasn't scary." He turns his back and walks toward the door leaving me running behind him and jumping on his back and out the door.

This isn't the first piggy-back around the compound this month, but with last year's initiates long-trained and new ones soon to come, everyone's been in a state of celebration and Dauntless fun.

Tobias decides to take us across The Pit and to the cafeteria, claiming it was "too late to go back home and make dinner so why not just grab some cake."

We end up finding a small table in the corner and sit across from each other, eating in peace before Harrison hurdles toward the table in typical drunk-Harrison fashion, holding a wooden clipboard with some papers and a pen.

"Four!" Harrison shouts. Tobias's head whips to Harrison's direction. Tobias raises his eyebrows in acknowledgement. "You've got duty tomorrow," he points at Tobias. I give both the men a confused look. "Both of you," he points at me this time.

"Duty…? Training's not until next month…" Tobias trails off.

Harrison sighs, almost sympathetically, and sits awkwardly close to Tobias. I suppress a giggle at Tobias's nearly pained expression.

Harrison loudly clatters his things onto the table. "Eric has sent me to you and-"

Tobias interrupts the man. "Harrisonnnnn," he whines. "Can't you go get Lauren? Or-or Zeke or something? I think I've had enough Eric and his smart-ass today." Tobias complains, shuffling the left-over food on his plate with his fork.

"Oh, toughen up, pansycake," Harrison grumbles. I chuckle at the word, unthreatening in its ridiculous form. "Lauren and Zeke aren't the ones training the transfers next week."

Tobias straightens himself in his seat. "Next week?" Harrison nods numbly. "What happened to next month?" Tobias snaps harshly.

Harrison picks up a paper and reads, "Initiation regarding the present year has been moved up in each faction's scheduling due to new low in transfers."

Harrison throws up his arms in surrender. "Don't kill the messenger, kid,"

Tobias lowers in his seat and pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"Just be at the Net on Sunday and avoid Eric and your chances at imminent death by chasm is relatively low," Harrison gives us both a sarcastic smile and stumbles along to the next table.

Tobias glares at the table blankly before looking back up at me.
"Race you to the tracks," he says with a daring smirk and bolting from his chair.

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