The thoughts of the night consumed Danse's mind well into the early morning as he poured over his pending reports, preventing any sort of meaningful progress on them. He was not ignorant to the fact that the interaction with his new initiate was not strictly professional, but he was not able to discern what it was exactly that had passed between them earlier.

It was no secret that physical contact was much more common not only before the war, which Nora was clearly accustomed to, but with the majority of the Commonwealth citizens as well. The Brotherhood, however, tended to take a more conservative stance on such behavior. However, he noted that Haylen also had a tendency to offer brief physical contact as a means of comfort, particularly when treating injured team mates.

Regardless, the exchange left Danse feeling uneasy and more confused than he'd ever been in his life. The myriad of emotions he felt that night at Nora's recount of the incident in Goodneighbor, mixed with the influence of the warm liquor had clearly lowered his professional guard, but instead of feeling guilty about the potential breach of conduct, he felt a nervous excitement at the exchange.

It was frankly, embarrassing, he thought, that he could be so undone by the slightest of friendly contact. He reasoned that it had clearly been too long since he'd had a friend who he could drop his guard around, but this woman was a conundrum, and his instant ease around her was abnormal for him. Trust wasn't something that could be dispensed at a moment's notice, and yet Nora had a sort of charm that stripped away his defenses so seamlessly.

Despite the nagging feeling in the back of his head that he ought to recommend Elder Maxson reassign her to a different mentor, given the unconventional circumstances of their meeting, the thought of having Nora's safety entrusted to someone else made him uneasy. Danse rationalized that it was given the nature of their meeting in itself that he felt responsible for well-being from that point forward.

Not only had she risked her life to save the remaining members of Recon Squad Gladius, she had divulged her own story to him, admittedly not without a certain amount of pressure on his part. The recollection inspired a sense of shame at how he has cornered her and demanded answers, however she had confided in him, ultimately. That was not something he would willingly betray.

He shot an irritated look toward the stack of reports that he had made zero progress on in the last couple hours before standing, deciding that it was futile to attempt completing them at this hour, considering his thoughts were preoccupied with other matters. A night of rest seemed the most beneficial step at this point, and he ambled toward his mattress, flopping down with little grace.

Fortunately, he still had enough of the alcohol from earlier in the night coursing through his system, so when he closed his eyes, it wasn't more than a few minutes until he was drifting to sleep.

Nora's eyes shot open at the soft beeping from her PipBoy, her arm jutting out to silence it before anyone else could be awoken by the noise. After muting the offending device, she blinked in the darkened room, eyes adjusting after a few minutes as she began to make out faint shapes around the room. MacCready was still fast asleep, figured curled under the sleeping bag in the corner.

She moved to stand, tip-toeing toward the mercenary. With a strong shake of his shoulder, MacCready jolted awake, Nora's hand placed firmly over his mouth to prevent the holler that she assumed was not far off.

"Shh." She ordered as he stilled, recognition relaxing his features. "C'mon kid, we got places to be."

"What time is it?" He whispered, rubbing his eyes with one hand as he rose.

"It's 4:45."

"You've got to be fu-freaking kidding me, boss." He groaned, moving to collect the few belongings he'd laid out on the table the night before, stuffing them into his pack.

"I'm paying you, aren't I?" Nora hissed back, shouldering the pack and stuffing the small black book under her arm as she reached for Righteous, propped against the wall.

"Yeah, yeah." MacCready answered, his own bag replaced over his back as he moved toward the doorway.

They quietly made their way to the front doors, slipping out into the early morning air undetected.

"Is there a reason we had to snuck out of there in the middle of the night like ya robbed the place... " MacCready asked, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket before shooting her a hopeful glance. "Unless...?

She rolled her eyes at the comment, checking her PipBoy once more. "No Mac, I didn't rob the Brotherhood of Steel."

"Hmm." He hummed, lighting a cigarette before extending the pack in her direction. She shook her head in response before he continued. "That's a shame. If anyone deserved it..."

"What?" The words were sharp, her tone unintentionally accusatory. The mercenary shot her a glance, wide eyes meeting her narrowed ones as they continued walking.

"Listen, boss. I'm not trying to start nothing here," MacCready sighed before continuing, wary about speaking out against the group given her apparent association with them. "The Brotherhood of Steel has a less than desirable reputation. They're willing to help only so long as you're useful and take serious issue with any one they don't consider human enough. Hell, they're more than happy to sacrifice humans working with them too."

"What..." Nora paused, slowly exhaling the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "What do you mean?"

"I told you about that Vault dweller looking after Duncan?" She nodded, watching the worried expression pull at the mercenary's face. "Well his dad was working with them on some big project, something about bringing purified water to the people of the Capitol Wasteland. I don't really know, I didn't ask too many details at the time."

"That doesn't sound so bad." She muttered.

"You'd think. Anyways, when he was like, nineteen, his dad left the Vault to go start working the project again and, like with most people who try to work with those clowns, he ended up dead. Those bas- bigots sent the kid out to a Vault full of super mutants, all alone mind ya, to get some sort of tech." MacCready shook his head, taking a drag of his cigarette before continuing. "A lone teenager who grew up in a vault. Hell, I was only a kid myself at the time, but I could've taken the guy out, no problem. Kid had no combat experience, I'm telling ya."

Nora frowned at the statement, shaking her head. "That doesn't seem right... Danse, he said they have a whole army of people."

MacCready let out a sardonic laugh. "Yeah they have plenty of soldiers, with actual Power Armor to keep them safe. The guy was still wearing the tattered old Vault suit, couldn't have been out for more than a couple weeks by the looks of him. That's not all though. Eventually he gets the tech and makes it back to them, not without a few obstacles mind ya, but then when it comes time to start the thing up, they tell him the room is flooded with radiation that'll kill him and that he has to be the one to go in there to turn it on."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" She snapped, glaring back at the skyline of Cambridge behind them.

"Nope." He answered, anger undercutting his tone. "He told them essentially to fu- bug off, and did his own thing. Did a lot of good, saving kids from slavery and stuff. The Brotherhood eventually figured out how to get the thing up and working on their own time."

"He sounds like a good kid... I just can't believe they would..." The thought trailed off, thoughts spinning out of control as she wondered if Danse was just using her for some other purpose.

"That's the short version, but yeah, he was. He is. He's your age now, or well, kinda." Nora nodded silently, a frown teasing at her lips.

"I... I thought they would be my best bet." She replied. Even though her gaze was turned toward the horizon, MacCready could tell she wasn't truly present in the moment.

He inhaled sharply. "You're probably right, they have all sorts of tech, but be careful. Nothing comes before the Brotherhood for those guys."

Nora thought back to Haylen's words the previous week, mirroring a similar sentiment regarding Rhys.

Where she had thought she was truly an ally, she pondered if she was just an asset to them. Here she was, another naive Vault dweller only a couple weeks above ground, and she was running around doing missions for them because of a vague implication about how they could help her find Shaun.

"Let's just get to Sanctuary." She stated. The words were calculated and disconnected, as she tried desperately to compartmentalized her feelings about the revelation and began trekking north.

By the time the Red Rocket came into view, it was pushing passed midnight, exhaustion wearing through them both.

If it hadn't been for Sturges' message about Sunshine Tidings needing urgent help with a feral ghoul horde, they could have made it to Sanctuary by early afternoon, with only their brief, planned stop at Jalbert Brother's Disposal.

Granted, Nora was relieved the she had received the message while MacCready was with her. Had she tried to clear the location without him, there was no doubt in her mind that her fate would've been identical to that of the settlers who had called for help. As bad as she felt for not being able to save them, it was quite apparent they had been long gone before she had even got the message. When morning came, she thought that she'd have to have a word with Preston about why he couldn't handle the settlement, given that it was only a couple hours away from Sanctuary.

She pushed open the door to the fueling station, briefly pausing to allow MacCready to catch the door with his own hand. The trip had been silent, save for the soothing sounds of Diamond City Radio, neither one of them willing to break the uncomfortable silence that had begun to expound since Cambridge.

When she opened the back office, she almost cried with relief as she saw the small bed and sleeping bag inside. Apparently Sturges had taken care of a few more things on her list about sprucing up the station. Nora threw her pack into a corner and sunk onto the sleeping bag with a sigh, her eyebrow raised as she met MacCready's gaze.

"What?" She asked, too irritated to argue with whatever the man was going to ask.

He paused before moving to sit on the small bed next to her bedroll, and frowned, shaking his head before speaking. "S'Nothing..."

"Jesus fuck Mac, I'm not in the mood. If you have something to say, just say it." Her tone was insistent as she watch his controlled expression. She figured that if they were going to hash it out over their earlier conversation, they might as well do it with Preston just up the hill for backup. "Are we good or not?"

"I don't know. I haven't killed you yet. That good enough?" He attempted the joke, but upon realizing the statement fell short, he sighed. "Sorry. Bad joke, I guess, for a merc."

Nora narrowed her eyes, scanning to determine if he was truly joking before letting out a small laugh. "Probably not your best, at least I hope. Someone might think you're serious."

"I didn't, uh, know how to bring this up, and given... earlier," MacCready paused to see if she was following him. "I just don't understand why you're doing all this shi- uh, stuff, for everyone."

"You can curse all you want, you. I'm not your mother and it definitely doesn't offend me."

"Well, you're old enough-" The statement was cut short by a very well aimed tin can at his upper arm. "Ow! That's my shooting arm."

"You're a sniper, they're both your shooting arm, dumbass." She retorted with a small smile.

"Yeah well, you knew what I meant." He grumbled, rubbing to afflicted area despite the fact that the attack had done more to wound his ego for not blocking the projectile than anything. She nodded quietly, before focusing back on his face.

"It's... It's the only thing that doesn't feel shitty. If I can help these people, who clearly need it, everything doesn't feel so hopeless. What's the alternative? Sit around with my thoughts?" At the statement, her fingers found their way to the chain around her neck and she shook her head. "Besides, it's the only thing that feels normal."

"What do you mean?" As much as she was uncertain about divulging further on the matter, that time she had at least anticipated the topic. Even though she had spoken to Daisy and Piper about some of her life pre-war, Danse was the only one she had told about that particular topic, well and Preston. Granted, she thought, trusting the former might have not been her wisest idea, but people would figure it out.

Hell, Nick fucking Valentine is still running around Boston, it's not exactly top-secret information.

"Before the war, I, uh, I worked for a police department." She offered quietly, fiddling with the lace on her boot as she started to remove it. "Taking calls and dealing with everyone else's problems on the daily."

He nodded, trying to picture it. "Is that how you knew Nick?"

"No... My husband, Nate, was consulting on a big case." She looked up quickly before resuming her task with the other boot. "Nate was a lawyer, I don't know if they have those anymore. Lawyers typically would try to make sure the people who were arrested were treated fairly, and unfortunately it was a pretty common occurrence that they weren't... But they were working together to bring down this asshole. Nate wasn't his lawyer, of course, but he could give the case a different perspective. I had left the department by then, or else the team might have called me in, but I wasn't exactly on speaking terms with my old squad."

The mercenary hummed curiously in response, but didn't interject as she continued. "Let's just say I took issue with how some of the brass handled a few situations. Well, maybe more than a few, and I wasn't too keen on keeping my mouth shut and pretending I didn't see what was really going down. They didn't particularly like when officers would start calling them on their shit... I joined because I wanted to help people, and because it made me feel good to help people. It was just so much different than I'd expected..."

MacCready offered a polite nod, understanding about corrupt leadership all too clearly. "I'm sure it's not the same, but I'd kill to see you smart off to the Brotherhood about some of their policies."

"Oh give it time." She answered bitterly. "I'm sure I'll piss them off sooner or later."

"Might have to stick around for that, boss." He quipped, eager to lighten the conversation. She could feel herself take a breath at the joke, relaxing the tension she hadn't noticed had been building in her shoulders.

"Only if you give me a discount. I don't entertain for free." Nora joked, the banter a familiar welcome. It was a relief to be able to talk about some of the department's corruption, even if he didn't quite get the full scope of the matter.

He shrugged, moving to lay back on the bed. "I'm pretty sure you still owe me."

Before she could smart back, her eyes snapped to the door at the sound of a something moving outside, when she heard the sound of scratching and whining outside.

"I hope you like dogs, kid." She grumbled, moving to open the door as Dogmeat rushed inside, jumping up to her and promptly covering her with licks as she settled back onto the sleeping bag. When Dogmeat turned to jump on the bed with MacCready, she watched nervously, relieved when the animal settled down next to her new friend.

"Yeah, yeah, buddy." He muttered, scratching his scruff affectionately. "Guess you can stay with me tonight."

Dogmeat looked toward her at his statement and she winked at him before the dog settled back down next to MacCready.

"I get it, kinda." MacCready offered, absentmindedly petting Dogmeat. "You gotta have something to keep you going, for the in between, when it feels like you can't."

"Yeah. Exactly..." She agreed, flopping to face toward him. "Get some rest. We earned it."

The mercenary grunted in response but didn't answer. After a few minutes of readjusting, he finally settled in, his even breaths the only sound in the empty fueling station.

As exhausted as she was, Nora couldn't get comfortable on the bed roll, tossing and turning in fitful sleep for hours until the sun arose, streaking randomized patterns into the room. She wondered if she would have gotten any better sleep up at Sanctuary, but doubted it. As bad as her nightmares had been, they seemed much worse sleeping in the ghost of her former life.

She quietly stood, shooting Dogmeat a discerning glance from where he was watching her, still curled on the bed, but at the foot of the mattress. He gently shifted, moving to walk toward her. Despite the movement, MacCready didn't react, his chest gently rising as he slumbered on.

Nora paced around the station, not wanting to get too far in case someone tried to sneak in on MacCready, watching as Dogmeat ran after some small creature across the road. She quietly collected a few tatos from the box on the counter, along with a rather large Mirelurk egg, and a chunk of half-cured Molerat. As she began scanning the area, she made a mental note to thank Sturges for outfitting the place for her. Though, she was certain that Preston had to have had a hand in it as well.

The PipBoy on the counter next to her played quietly while she prepped the breakfast, a process which was agonizingly slow, given that she only had one pan and a hot plate to work with. It was miles away from the gleaning kitchen they'd had back in Sanctuary.

"Whatcha making?" The voice came from behind her, inspiring a very undignified scream as she spun toward the source, knife still clenched in hand. MacCready looked amused, pressing his lips together to keep from laughing at her.

"Fucking asshole, you are." She muttered before turning to pour the contents of the pan onto the plates next to her. "It's uh, an omelet, some fried tatoes, and grilled molerat. Eat it, or don't, I don't care."

"This whole time you could cook and we've been eating stale Sugar Bombs and Cram." He muttered, moving toward the plate next to hers.

She let out a wry laugh. "I wouldn't call this shit cooking. It's no Michelin Star entree."

"What?" He asked as she waved the question away, turning to eat. "But, uh, thanks. Can't remember the last time someone cooked for me."

"Well, I figured I ought to. Someone ought to feed you, you can't live on Cram and booze alone." She shrugged, watching as Dogmeat came running back inside to beg for food. Rolling her eyes, she pulled the blue dog bowl with his portion from beneath the counter.

"That dog is eating better than I did my whole childhood." MacCready stated, his own serving nearly gone. Nora spun her head, meeting his eyes with a profound worry marking her expression.

"Damn, kid. Well, I'll be sure to feed you a little better. As long as you stick around, that is."

He nodded quietly in response, reaching down to scratch Dogmeat occasionally as she cleaned up. It was then that he realized how maternal she was being toward him, an unfamiliar warmth creeping into his chest. He'd never known maternal affection, his own mother having left him, fleeing at the first sign of Raiders when he was only five, so the sensation was strange, but it was a pleasant one, at least.

MacCready figured he should try to help, given that Nora was busy cleaning up, and returned back to the office to pack up their bags.

A few minutes later and they were off, set toward the rickety wooden bridge that was only barely held together by a few strong boards doing the brunt of the work.

As soon as Nora crossed the bridge, numerous settlers waved at her politely, a fact which was disconcerting for them both. She looked down at her blue suit and realized, they recognized her because of whatever description had been circulating about the new Minutemen General had, apparently, included her penchant for donning the Vault suit.

From outside the building she'd designated as the bunk house, she heard the familiar voices carry from inside.

"Pres, you gotta ask her about it. C'mon, please?" Sturges asked, the familiar drawl striking a pain in her chest.

"Of course I'll ask her for you, Sturges." Preston responded, his gentle voice somehow fonder than she'd recalled it being. "I just need to figure out how-"

"Ask me what?" She stated, loud enough to reach the men inside, a small smirk creeping along her face as she heard something metal being dropped.

Preston shot his head around the doorway, a wide smile on his face. "General! You're back sooner than expected."

"Yeah, I uh, had business in the area." Her tone was polite, but the tension in her words was obvious and he nodded in response, shooting MacCready a quick glance.

"I heard about Sunshine Tidings... I only got back myself this morning." Preston answered, defending the unspoken accusation on her lips. "Outpost Zimonja had some Raiders hassling them, so I went to get them set up. A couple of our new recruits-"

"What? Who?" She blurted, looking around for any unfamiliar faces.

"A couple of kids from Diamond City, came up with that fella, what was his name?" The man paused, turning back to holler inside the house. "Sturges, what was the guys name who came up with the recruits?"

"Sheffield." The voice answered, replaced briefly by the faint sound of hammering from somewhere deep inside the house.

Nora nodded, scanning the field behind the house before spotting the man in question. "Is he staying out of trouble?"

"He's been great, he works almost as hard as Marcy, and the woman barely has a negative thing to say about him." Preston replied, before continuing his earlier explanation. "Apparently, the other two came up with him and wanted to join up. Said something about doing something more with their lives than eating noodles."

She let out a small laugh, shooting MacCready an amused glance. "Yeah, that sounds like Diamond City kids. They any good?"

"They're better than the last couple of recruits we had in Quincy." Preston answered dryly, the sarcasm almost imperceptible. "Anyways, they went out to bring some supplies to the Slog. Figured it was a good test of character."

"The Slog?" MacCready interjected, his curiosity breaking his normally silent demeanor.

"Yeah, what's that?" Nora added, shooting the mercenary a glance.

"It's a tarberry farm. Run by ghouls." Preston answered with a small smirk. "And before you say anything, Wiseman is more than capable of handling himself if they were to respond unkindly toward his community, but I get the sense that they're more open minded than most."

"Okay, I trust your judgment here." Recalling the previous topic, she narrowed her eyes at the man. "What was Sturges wanting you to ask me about?"

"It's about the Vault." The Minuteman started, gauging her reaction. "He wanted... To see if he could use some of the stuff down there. I told him that- "

"It's fine." Nora's affirmation was distant, almost formal.

"Nora, you don't -"

"Preston. I said it's fine, let Sturges take whatever he needs from down there. I don't care." She fixed her gaze on Dogmeat who was stiffing at a cluster of wild carrot flowers, unable to meet the overly empathetic one watching her.

"If you want to think it -" Preston offered again, the politeness grating against her nerves as she forced her eyes toward his own, a deep anger spilling into her expression.

"That goddamn place is nothing but horrible fucking memories." She gritted through clenched teeth, the intensity of her hatred shocking both Preston and MacCready who stood absolutely still in shock. "If I could dig the whole thing up and get rid of it, I would. That place is nothing but evil incarnate. Now. Like I said, let Sturges have full possession of the Vault and whatever is inside. That's an order, Colonel."

Before Preston could answer, she turned, stalking off toward her dilapidated home before disappearing inside.

"That went well." Preston muttered as he watched her leave. MacCready shot him a sympathetic glance.

"She's been on edge since Cambridge." The mercenary articulated, hoping it was enough of an explanation.

"The Brotherhood?"

"Yeah... Probably my fault. I told her about some of the stunts they pulled back in the Capitol." MacCready stated, moving to light the cigarette that had appeared between his lips.

"Understood." The taller man offered his hand toward him. "Preston Garvey, Minuteman."

"I know who you are." The mercenary answered, not taking the man's hand and moving to follow where Nora had retreated to.

MacCready found her seated on the floor against the weathered counter, her eyes closed as she leaned her head back against it. Codsworth floated next to her, rambling about various settlers and progress around the neighborhood. The mercenary moved to sit next to her, offering her the pack of cigarettes. Nora opened her eyes, taking the pack from his hand, removing one cigarette before lighting it.

It was only after a healthy inhale that MacCready dared to speak. "Never liked Vaults, always gave me the creeps."

Nora chuckled at that, visibly relaxed after a few long drags on the cigarette. "Yeah, well. At least mine wasn't full of super-mutants."

"Fair... Didn't take you for a smoker." He offered, eager to change the topic.

She shrugged, flicking the ash toward the floor. "Not for many years. Well, many years even before the bombs dropped."

He nodded in response, glancing up as Dogmeat burst through the doorway, a screwdriver in his mouth followed by an exasperated Sturges a few minutes later.

"Sorry Nora, he just ran in here, and I wouldn't normally bother, but that's my good screwdriver." The repair man looked nervous at the intrusion, but she moved to stand, taking the screwdriver from Dogmeat's mouth gently.

"Don't worry about it." She offered the tool back to him. "What are your big plans with the Vault?"

Sturges paused, trying to determining her motives, given her previous outburst, before answering. "Well, I was hoping to use some of the tech to get the fridges up and running again."

She stubbed her cigarette on the wall, watching the peeled wallpaper singe with a sad smile before meeting his eyes. "That's a really good idea, Sturges. Go wild, but feel free to get a fridge down to Red Rocket for me if you figure it out?"

"Yes ma'am!" He answered eagerly, offering an awkward salute before glancing behind him where Preston was now approaching. Nora wondered faintly if the 'accidental' incident with Dogmeat wasn't so accidental, but she had to admire the conspiring between them.

"Oh, and thanks for fixing up the Power Armor. I saw it this morning." She volunteered, figuring it was better to keep Sturges on her good side.

"Of course. Figured you'd need it sooner or later." He smiled sheepishly and nodded to Preston before turning to get started on his new project.

"That's cute, Preston. Real sly." She smarted, the faint blush on the man's neck evidence she'd been right about her deduction.

"General. I wanted to -"

Nora held up her hand. "No, Pres. I'm sorry, I overreacted. What Sturges is trying to do is, well quite frankly, amazing. I acted like an asshole and was ordering you around like a soldier and that's... that's not who I am. Even worse, I was being a shitty friend... After everything you've done for me. As much as you want me to be this badass General, I'm not."

"I dunno, boss." MacCready chimed in. "You're pretty badass and well, I could definitely see ya bossing us all around."

Prestoon smiled, an unspoken alliance formed between the two men in an instant. "You should have seen her take on a Deathclaw single handedly."

"I've only heard the stories." The mercenary answered. "I'm sure she was being modest."

Nora let out a gruff laugh, her throat raw from the two century old tobacco. "I'm anything but modest."

After a brief chuckle, the trio fell silent, even Codsworth had nothing to add at the moment. Nora could feel herself deflate slightly, ashamed at her frequent outbursts of anger, especially considering she'd taken the most recent one out on Preston, of all people.

Preston watched her, his worried eyes trying to analyze her mental state in conjunction with her erratic behavior.

"What's going on Nora? I thought you were headed to Diamond City to find your son." He asked, braver than the rest of them as he finally broke the awkward silence.

Haylen watched as Danse headed toward the garage, listening patiently for the click of the latch before sneaking up to the roof where Rhys was keeping watch, the repaired transmitter gently cradled in her hand.

"Don't think too hard, big guy." She chimed as she saw him, walking toward the radio beacon to inspect the wiring. Rhys turned toward her and shot her a smirk.

"You calling me dumb?" He quipped, watching her amused expression.

"Hmm... I haven't decided yet."

"And what does one have to do for the all-knowing Scribe Haylen to consider them worthy?" Rhys glanced toward the barricade briefly, before focusing his attention on his friend and colleague.

"How about you give me your take on what the hell we walked in on the other night?" She moved to sit on the metal crate while she fiddled with prepping the copper wires.

He nodded thoughtfully as she watched him. "Monsignor Plaza definitely had more ghouls than I thought-"

"Not that, Rhys. Jesus." She rolled her eyes, returning to her work.

"That's not... It's not our business to discuss whatever it was that Paladin Danse and Initiate Hartt were discussing the other night." Rhys answered firmly, turning back to scan the horizon.

"Oh come on!" She demanded, moving to stand back up, groaning as a piece of wire broke at her sudden movement. "Rhys, they were holding hands. Even you're not that naive to think that -"

"That's enough, Scribe." He barked, looking at her as she recoiled at the order. She shook her head, grabbing the device off the metal bin. "We have our orders, that is our priority, and I recommend you follow them."

"You Brotherhood guys are all the same. No room for anything else but the fucking mission." Haylen snapped, headed back toward the stairs.

Rhys' mouth fell open, not only at the display of disrespect but at the anger he'd seen in her. A sense of panic began to grow at her words as she retreated, recalling the conversation he'd had with his superior not too long before. He kicked himself for being so ignorant to truly think that he couldn't have a relationship as a knight. Hell, even Danse voiced his approval, but he had been so content to stick his head in the sand and deny his feelings.

"Haylen." He said, rushing over to where she stood at the door to the stairway. Shooting him a brief glare, she reached for the door handle, pulling it open. "Sarah, please."

She froze at his use of her first name, the sound so foreign on his lips, but she did not turn to look at him.

"I'm sorry." Rhys muttered, no longer the confident soldier he had been only minutes before. He reached for her forearm, hesitating only briefly before touching her. "I was being a dick."

Haylen kept her stare on the door handle, only tensing slightly at the sudden contact, but she still unwilling to look up at him. "That's the understatement of the year."

"I'm sorry. Please look at me." He pleaded softly, squeezing her arm gently.

The unusual desperation in his tone broke her gaze from the door and up to meet his own. "Rhys..."

"We're not all like that..." He started, unsure how to express the thoughts that weaving their web inside his mind. "I'm not... I don't want to be like that."

"Okay." She answered quietly.

As much as she wanted to hope Rhys meant what he was implying, she had embarrassed herself once before and wasn't willing to strike out twice. Rhys stepped closer, carefully moving his hand to touch Haylen's cheek, gently caressing it.

"I was wrong, before. I'd like to make it up to you, if you'd let me." Rhys offered. Her breath hitched and she nodded, his rough hand suddenly very warm against her cheek.

Rhys leaned forward, placing a chaste kiss on her lips, the movement cautious and uncertain. She released the handle, moving her hand to the back of his neck, reciprocating the movement. As he pulled away, she let out a quick breath at the loss of contact, eyeing him as if she expected him to run.

He smiled in response, leaning in for another kiss, this time much hungrier and deeper than before. Haylen tugged at Rhys' collar, pulling herself closer at the contact, before pulling away was a small gasp.

"I, uh, that was..." She started, blinking quickly.

"I'm such an idiot." Rhys whispered, kissing her once more before moving his hand to her waist. "I was such an idiot before, I'm sorry Sarah."

She smirked, placing her hand on his cheek. "I know Rhys, I know."