The next morning, Monarch excused herself to run an errand with Louis and Downes. Apparently, fresh supply shipping had arrived, and the staff working down there needed some help with arrangements and what was going where. Then, they'd do routine exercises with Enterprise and the rest. Our plan afterward was to meet for a quick lunch at the café we'd dropped into on my first day here.

Until that happened, I had my own work to take care of. Mainly, more personal papers. We'd gotten a majority of the administrative documents through the pipeline on time yesterday. Monarch turned out to be quite the workhorse with sitreps and manifests. That left me with essentially the entirety of today to catch up with any remaining logs and the initial decision documentation. These were papers that only I could accomplish, anyway. Which was a crucial fact, as Admiral Price was keen to remind me.

Edwards. We've received your recent reports, but you've still got three more days to file. Please don't let gaps like this happen again. Otherwise, you're doing good work like always, based on what we've received so far. Keep it up.

Admiral Alvin Price, transmitted 0732 hours.

I chuckled to myself after reading the message and sipped some coffee at the counter. He was always a man of the numbers, and along with Theodore, he gave me much of the command style I have now. Allow the leeway, stay cool when you can, and warm up when you need to. Still, I mused to myself. Regular personal testimonies seem kinda redundant. I understand the value of first-person insight, but can't that be given on a need-to-know basis? Maybe there was something I was missing due to not being possessed of the macro view he does. Perhaps a degree of granular detail would be shaved off without them. Who knows? Setting the cup down, I walked to the workstation to kickstart the day.

A blank desktop and a clean head are already two steps in the right direction for having yourself a good go at it. At least, that's what I like to say. I logged onto the system portal and scrolled through the fields until I got to the ones I was missing. Hitting the first entry, I cracked my knuckles and was about to start typing when something felt off. In my head, a nag was going on about something or other that needed to be there.

…

Damn, what am I-

The silence that blanketed around me suddenly dawned in my head. Ah, right. I pulled up the old-school media player that I use and browsed for an album to get spinning. 'Why not use a streaming service like the rest of the world,' you might ask. Well, audio quality is a problem. FLAC is the way to go, baby. As I skimmed the list, I read off the names of an array of different artists. AC/DC, Bee Gees, Bon Jovi, Bullmark, Cage the Elephant, Daft Punk, Pink Floyd, Toto…

…

Hm. Is it weird I don't feel like listening to any of this?

My cursor hovered over Steely Dan when I reconsidered even that, too.

Dammit. At a loss for what to put on, I sifted through any recollections I had of something I might want. It was then that my dinner with Monarch last night came to mind. What was that band she was telling me about? Cod Lay? Cold… Cold-Play? Coldplay. I think.

Closing the player and switching reluctantly to a streaming platform, I punched in the search term to see what would pop up. I was greeted by a handful of results but selected the one that seemed the most likely at the top, a four-man crew that looked like they'd be a band called 'Coldplay.'

What's on the discog?

A few albums were splayed out on the screen. The first release, evidently, was a record called Parachutes. I now ran into a different problem. She hadn't given me a recommendation on where to start. Hm.

I decided there was no other method more tried & true. Putting one hand over my eyes and the other on the mouse, I moved randomly one pace to the right and down. Regaining my vision, I had landed on one with a dark blue cover and wings on it.

Ghost Stories.

Right. That title could imply a shortlist of things. It may be a nifty sounding pop album that's actually pretty musically competent. It could also turn out to be a burning garbage heap. Or it could just be a regular run-of-the-mill, play-and-forget record. Looking at the clock and seeing that I was burning time, I elected to roll the dice and see what happens. Alright, 'Always in My Head,' I thought to myself. Show me what Coldplay's all about.

Barely thirty minutes into the first paper detailing updates on post-Denmark Strait movements, I was interrupted by Dido with the regular delivery of provisions for our guests. Pausing the music, I took out my earbuds and looked at her with a small smile and a raised eyebrow.

"G-good morning, commander," the cruiser greeted nervously.

"Morning," I replied while stifling a snicker. "Are you here to deliver food or turn yourself in for treason?"

She jumped and squeaked. "W-what?"

That got a chuckle out of me. "You look like you've seen a ghost. No need to be nervous, I'm just a guy." Deciding I'd help her with the task at hand, I gestured to the doors that led into the bedroom half. "You can knock, or I knock. Your call."

"Oh, that- That won't be necessary," she replied. "I can handle it."

"Sure," I nodded as she made for the said door.

Rapping so lightly you'd think the panel would shatter if so much as a feather grazed it, Dido stepped back and waited patiently. Before too long, it opened to reveal Zed standing there, still in nightwear. "Yes," the destroyer asked promptly.

Dido nodded and eagerly presented the cart to the destroyer. "Your breakfast is here, miss."

Zed's eyes widened momentarily. "Oh, no need to call me 'miss.' Thank you."

The two rolled the cart in. When the proceedings were done with, Dido and I were left alone in the living room. "Are you just gonna wait for them to finish, or-?"

"Hm? Oh, yes," she replied. "My sister, Sirius, is handling the others in Miss Enterprise's room. We agreed to simply wait and recollect at the elevators on her floor before proceeding to the lobby."

I nodded. "Alright. Nice plan."

A faint blush came about her and she chuckled softly but said nothing more of it after that.

Shrugging, I put the buds back in and decided to get on with work. Was I showered yet? No. So, I'd finish as much of the three writeups as I can before heading out at 1145 for Louis's room, then deposit used clothes back here. From there, it'll be a beeline for the café. Easy peasy. As I went to resume the music, I noticed I'd already gotten halfway through the album. Hm. Let's review some of these songs.

The sound was very atmospheric thus far. Its mix was very minimal, the vocals intimate and lonely. This characteristic lent its tracks a tendency to fade into the background. Though we could probably peg that on focus on work swamping out much of my attention capacity. Not bad. Not something I'd put on regularly, but…

As far as a pop album goes? Definitely not the worst that's out there.

Okay. Impromptu album review out of the way, I clicked for the next track, Oceans, and immersed myself once again into the ocean of a PML report.

The tunnel visioning effect was very real, to the point I hadn't even noticed when the Ironbloods had concluded their meal and helped Dido pack up and depart, or that the track had lasted five minutes and twenty-something like that seconds.

At the conclusion of the confrontation, the final damage report for the entirety of the home fleet was nominal at worst. This means the entire task force is already-

Not even getting a chance to prepare myself, an explosive hit from the earbuds jolted me in place. I came this close to yanking them out of my ears and snapping them into pieces entirely. What in the f-!

Swiftly regaining composure, I brought the window up to see if something had gone wrong. A Sky Full of Stars. You're really just gonna throw in a song like that right after Oceans?! Okay, Coldplay. I see you. This better be good, because I almost had a heart attack for it.

Letting the track play out and tabbing back to the document, I quickly found myself failing to keep writing while this song was on. Its piano ballad was, should I say…

...Majestic.

Something about the composition, the way the singer's vocals emanated through the recording, evoked images of an infinite ocean under a starry night sky. Go figure, Oceans followed by A Sky Full of Stars. Still, it was nice to know the song could live up to its title.

And then, as in any self-respecting EDM-styled song, the beat drop happened.

A four-on-the-floor kick rhythm kept the pace measured while layer-on-layer of synthesizers rushed forwards like a dam finally let burst. Although, if the sound were solely encompassed by a wall-of-sound pack of synthesizers, this wouldn't have nearly the same effect. No, I said to myself. That guitar is really driving it.

When it let up, I sat back and nodded slowly. Wow, yeah. I think I get it. Looking at the album now with the context of A Sky Full of Stars, the whole thing was a buildup to the explosion that is this song. Makes you wonder what the album's about. This song's obviously about someone the vocalist knows, but…

…

…Hm. As the song hit the second verse, I closed my eyes and tried to construct an image in my head.

You're a sky full of stars.

Out of nowhere, Monarch came into my thought bubble. Hastily, I snapped out of it with my breathing mysteriously heavy, my face feeling warm, and my heart going supersonic. The record's timing seemed to coincide spookily well with mine. I started to recollect my unraveling thoughts when the music faded out as if nothing had happened. My gaze shot directly to my case, lying on the couch. The train of thought chugged to the 'dinner date' with George and Wales that Monarch and I had discussed last night, warm tingling in my chest bubbling up. I got it.

After swiftly churning out the first phases of the second report, I was in the elevator with a bag of clothes and a mission. Our preliminary phase is to notify the Corps that I would not be in the suite for the time being. Nothing else changed so dramatically from there. Shower up at Louis's, then return to the suite so I won't be carrying around some used clothes in the streets like a loon. Modifications arise when I get back downstairs to find either George or Wales. And then, get to Monarch. All before 1230 hours. Can do?

…

I shrugged to myself and sighed. Maybe. Probably. Hopefully.

Putting the phone next to my ear, I waited while it rang until someone picked up.

"Hello?"

It gave me pause to put a face to the voice but I figured it out in the end. "Sheffield? This is Commander McConnell."

"Mm. Yes, sir, this is Sheffield. What brings you to call this line?" Yeah, that stiff-upper-lip voice is unmistakable.

"Yeah, both me and Monarch are out of the room right now."

"Right. I shall keep the watch while you are away." The reply was swift and prompt. I like this chick.

I chuckled to myself and said, "Sure. Thanks, Sheffield."

"Of course, sir."

The line was cut, and that was that. One detail that did not escape me was how she had been calling me sir. I guess Gloucester talks? Well, it makes sense that word would get around either way.

Pocketing the phone as the elevator doors opened, I stepped out and headed for room one-two-eight. Knocking on the white door, I stood and waited with the bag in hand as a voice called out from inside, "Hang tight~!"

A scant few seconds later, St. Louis was at the door garbed in a grey shirt with some print on it and short blue cargo shorts. "Oh, commander! To what do I owe the pleasure?" She asked mischievously.

I grimaced then snickered. "You know. If I may?"

Louis only put a hand on her lips and simpered before gesturing inside. "Of course."

"Thanks."

Like the wind, I was in and out. Not that I had anything against Louis. I just didn't like the feeling of being in someone else's shower. Especially the shower of a woman who was very well-versed in the arts of the provocative. I'd smartly surmised early on that the most effective way to deal with such types is to play along with the game and cut it when it's done. Everyone has their fun, and no one has to get fucked while doing it. I chuckled wryly to myself. That's one way to put it.

"I'll see you later, Lou," I called from the door.

"Yes, sir!"

Back in the elevator, dump the clothes, back in the elevator, out in the lobby. One, done. Next up: Find George. Or Wales. Either will work.

Not too long after, I found the former while walking the streets of the city. I didn't even want to think of the chances of wandering aimlessly into an outdoor park restaurant and finding the battleship sat on her lonesome under a parasol, munching on some pie. Seeing the opening so graciously offered by way of nobody noticing me, or bothering to question an officer in uniform, I walked behind her stealthily and primed myself for the attack. When in position, my hands lifted up and gripped her shoulders in a not-so-dissimilar maneuver to the one I pulled on Enterprise back out at sea.

"Oh, shit on toast!" George swore, fumbling her utensil and jumping out of her seat. She stared at me incredulously with wide eyes and fast breaths. "Commander! I…" While I had myself a good chuckle and pulled my own chair out from under the table, she took the opportunity to compose herself. "Goodness, I was not expecting you here."

"Evidently," I quipped. "Consider this payback for the map room."

To that, she slumped her shoulders and scoffed pettily. "The map room? Oh please, I was there on professional obligations." The trappings of a simper were too apparent to miss, no matter how she tried to conceal them.

"Professional obliga-" I echoed incredulously. "Sure, yeah. Serious business. Mhm. Yep."

As George sat back down, she laughed it off and rearranged her food, slicing another thin piece off the pie and eating it. "What brings you here anyhow? Looking for something fresh to sink your teeth into? The offerings on the menu are quite the luscious treats, though I must advise against them at this time of day so close to lunch."

I frowned and snickered. "Right. So, why are you eating here at this time of day, so close to lunch?"

She chuckled triumphantly and grinned. "A simple function, commander, of me having the capacity to do so!"

"An iron stomach?"

"Precisely."

"I see," nodding my head and smiling. "Foodie, huh? Shouldn't be that much of a surprise, though, not gonna lie. Your cooking is pretty solid."

George beamed approvingly. "You flatter me."

"Of course. Flattery is the most sincere form of…flattery. I don't where I was going with that," I joked. Before she could say anything to further things along that track, I shifted towards the concern at hand. "Anyway, I'm here to tell you that Monarch is a green light for dinner. With you and Wales. And probably me there too, but I'll keep solely to the role of mediator if you don't mind."

She perked up, clearly keen about the proposition. "Ah! That's good news! When shall we conduct such a meeting?"

I shrugged. "Honestly, the sooner the better. With each passing day, the chance of an Ironblood retaliation grows stronger. I'm sure you can get why it'd be a lot nicer for everyone if we could operate as a proper cohesive unit without the baggage. You know how I like to do things. Have ourselves a clean fight when it comes."

Her face took on a contemplative look, running a scenario in her head. "Mm, I see what you mean." George looked at me, crimson eyes alight with gusto. "Then, what say we do it tonight?" She proposed confidently.

"Tonight?" I repeated in surprise. "Well, that'd obviously be really neat, but some limitations there. One, I think maybe give yourselves some more time to gather what you'll wanna say? And two, what about Wales? You'll need to coordinate with her about it."

Sitting back, George stroked her chin slowly. "Alright, alright... I have it. Wales and I had a plan to meet with Howe on the day after tomorrow, but we can explain the shift."

"What? Are you sure? Maybe Howe will-"

"No, no. This is a win-win scenario here, commander. Wales and I both cleared the night anyway, which guarantees no scheduling conflicts. And, since we reschedule our outing with Howe to a later date, chance we might even be able to include Monarch in our plans! Besides, I believe Howe good-hearted enough to understand." She surmised triumphantly. "What do you think?"

"How about," I replied, "We just have Howe tag along altogether?"

She raised a brow and grinned, nodding her head slowly. "Perfect. That works."

"Nice." Standing up to take my leave, I pushed the chair back to where it belonged as not to block any foot traffic. "Now, I've got somewhere to be. I'll see you, Wales, and Howe the night of the day after tomorrow?"

"Indeed."

"Awesome," I smiled. "Uh…where?"

"There is a place not too far from here called Terra Rossa. Are you familiar?"

I shook my head and shrugged, "…Nope."

"Well, we can meet there. The ambiance and the menu should fit like a glove for our function," she assured me.

"Alright," I chuckled, "I'll trust you when it comes to the food matters around here."

"As you should," she affirmed playfully.

Laughing, I walked off. "See you then, George."

"Where are you heading now?" She called after me.

"Lunch with Monarch!"

Despite the distance between us now exceeding the limits of earshot, I could still hear her playful mischievous laughter as I set foot back onto the sidewalks and made my way to the next objective. My stomach suddenly made its discontent known with a low growl. Alright, alright, I get you, I appeased it.

"Hey," I greeted, shuffling to the table and sitting down across from Monarch.

She put down her glass of water. "Oh, there you are. I was beginning to wonder if you'd show up."

"Sorry 'bout that," I replied smoothing out my uniform. "I had to deal with something."

She asked, "That something being?"

"Dinner date," I said simply, finally settled into my seat.

"You spoke with George again?"

My stomach grumbled again as I replied, "Yeah, I did. What'd you get for us, by the way? I'm hungry."

"Ah," she said grabbing the menu on the table and flipping through it. "I figured we share something fresh. Steamed fish."

"Ooh," I nodded approvingly. "I can dig it."

Monarch smirked. "I thought you might."

"Mm. Predicting me again," I joked. Not that it's happened too-too often. But you know.

She giggled but made no more issue of it, deciding to shift directions. "So, what did George say?"

"Right," I replied. "She's down to meet up along with Wales and Howe in two days' time. That would make it a Wednesday."

Monarch raised an eyebrow and nodded. "Feels like you've been here a good while already. When are you due back home? Just out of curiosity."

My eyes widened. Shit! She was right. "Ohh, damn. The original brief said Sunday. Ideally Saturday, but that was the leeway they gave me."

She recoiled and looked at me incredulously. "What?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna need more time. Don't worry, I can put in a request for an extension due to...sudden external circumstances coming to light." My mind scrambled up a quick draft paragraph to pass to Theodore and Price. Hopefully, they'd allow one more week. Additionally, let's hope the Ironblood decides to attack within the estimated time frame of the said next week.

"Are you sure, McConnell?" She pressed firmly.

Heh. She reminds me of someone… "Yes," I replied. "Don't worry, I was literally sent out here to transfer some ships. Yoinking Bismarck from the sea wasn't exactly a part of the plan."

Monarch looked immensely relieved and sat back with a deep exhale.

I tilted my head curiously. "You seem very concerned. Not that I don't appreciate it," I added hastily. Don't want her taking that the wrong way.

"Well," she hesitated, seemingly uncertain of what to say. "I don't know." Her voice grew a tad softer, a blush fading slowly onto her face. "I just don't like the idea of not having you around."

My face flared and I put a hand on my chest, a small smile unwittingly slipping out. "Oh?"

"I mean," she choked. "You're one of the first properly close friends I think I've had." Monarch rubbed her hands under the table, shrugged, and then looked me square in the eye. "I don't know about you, but I think that's special."

I grinned, a warm feeling in my chest washing over, whatever stress previously being applied to it dissipating in a snap. "That it is. I… You flatter me." Nothing like a little joke to laugh off some butterflies.

She laughed awkwardly and scratched the back of her head when the waiter arrived with a rather large platter of food.

"Here you go, guys," he said. "Enjoy."

"Thanks." "Thank you."

Almost immediately after he left, I took a fork and a knife and started cutting into the meat. "Wow, this looks pretty good. Are you gonna cut some for yourself, or do you want me to do it for you?" I offered.

"Oh, I actually don't know how to cut into a fish, so…" She joked self-deprecatingly. "Yeah, it's a little ironic. Why don't you show me how to do it with your piece, and then-"

"-You try cutting your own piece, gotcha, gotcha," I finished her sentence for her. I got up from my seat to get a better overhead view. "Okay, here's what you do, right? The key thing to remember is that fishbones suck. Don't want any of those going anywhere near your tum."

"Sure. Fishbones, no." Monarch echoed.

"Right. Now, this whole region here is probably the best part. Not a lot of bone, whole lotta meat. Great package deal."

She nodded, "Mhm."

"So, cut from the tail up, right down the middle." I held it down gently with the fork while running the blade lengthwise through. "See that?"

"Yep."

"Okay. Then you can just cut the meat off from the skeleton." Reorienting the knife crosswise to the fish and running its blade parallel to the table, I sliced through and separated the two components. Putting the fork carefully into it, I lifted the chunk of meat and placed it gingerly on my plate. I sat back down and presented it to her. "There. See? Now, you try it. Just remember, you're essentially peeling the meat from the spine."

"…Sure," she replied nervously slowly picking up her own cutlery and examining the blade on the knife before standing up like I did to get a good view. "Just like he did," she muttered largely to herself. Carefully putting the knife up to the starting point, she made the same slow, gentle back & forth motion that I did.

"Yeah, yeah," I coaxed. "That's good. This isn't beef or anything, so no need to fight it too hard. Let the knife do the work."

A silence fell on the two of us as I watched this person cut a fish for her first time with great anticipation. C'mon, c'mon. You almost got it…!

She exhaled when the knife got all the way through. Lifting the meat up with the help of a fork, she settled it on her plate and sat back down.

"Voila," I declared with a strange sense of pride. "You just cut a piece."

Monarch nodded and chuckled. "Alright, cool."

"Just remember before you start eating to inspect for stragglers. There might still be a few bones in that."

"Oh. Okay," she replied.

"Yeah. Be extra careful. Fishbone is really thin and hard to see sometimes. Stay frosty."

"This is a surprisingly intense dish to eat," she quipped.

I chuckled lightly. "I get that. Especially since this might be your first time dealing with it. But, the more you do it, the more it just becomes second nature."

She cocked a brow. "You used to eat this often?"

"Yeah," I replied simply. "I learned the tricks of the trade from my mum. Some folks cut into the fish. Mum divided the fish. It was exquisite."

"I see," she giggled.

A gap in the conversation quickly took hold as we began eating. I, for the most part, didn't mind too much. Or is that just my stomach talking? Either way, I was glad to get some lunch in me. While that was happening, I mentally organized the rest of the day out. Finalize, then let the admiral know I'd be extending the mission a bit. Speaking of, I also gotta start wrapping up the-

"I wonder where I should even begin with them," Monarch blurted out of the blue, jolting me out of my thought bubble.

"Hm?"

"With George and Wales. That is a lot of ice to break," she explained.

"Oh, yeah." I shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe let George talk it out first. And then play reactionary."

She nodded and waved a finger at me affirmatively. "Ahh, that could work."

"Yup. I think that's how she sees it unfolding, anyway. She's the type who likes to be at the starting gun," I commented.

"That she is, yes."

"Mhm. Just don't say anything stupid. Or anything you'll regret. I'll be there as a mediator, but…you know. I'd rather we not worsen things in time for the Ironblood to counterstrike our asses," I joked wryly.

"Fair point," Monarch replied.

"Yeah."

Hm.

After a nice half-hour of chatting it up, I decided it was time to make headway back for the workspace. There was still a handful more things to do before I could call the day clear. Getting up and putting my cap on, I asked Monarch, "So, when will I be seeing you back there?"

"Oh," she said. "Maybe a couple of hours more. I'm apparently due for routine checks now, ever since I've been put into the regular sortie pool." Her disgruntlement with the red tape was apparent, which made me chuckle.

"Well, doing due diligence comes at a cost," I quipped dryly.

"Yes," she rolled her eyes. "Protocol."

I laughed and made for the doors. "Good luck!"

"Thanks, you too!"

A/N: Thanks for reading and the support! 'Till next time.

Cheers, Jarvis.