"You've been quiet," Kiran said, snapping Wren back to reality. Her ship was being docked and frankly, she wasn't sure how. She'd been somewhere else in her head since they entered the atmosphere.

"Sorry," she muttered, stretching her arms high above her head.

"What's on your mind?"

"It's dumb."

"You can tell me."

Wren glanced at him, then leaned back, watching as mechanics secured the ship. "I know Cayde apologized and everything, but I still can't get what he said out of my head. About not being cut out for this."

"You just destroyed the Sword of Crota," Kiran said, bobbing in front of her. "Isn't that proof enough that you're a true Guardian?"

"It should," she sighed. "I told you it's dumb. I know it's irrational, and I'm not even mad at Cayde anymore about it."

"Does this have anything to do with the things Flak's said to you?"

"I don't know. I mean, I can't say he's not right about some of it. I am a lot smaller than the others, and a lot less experienced. I mess up sometimes. I've been knocked around, lost my gun, and nearly wrecked my Sparrow."

"You think the rest of them were perfect fighters when they started? I'm sure their Ghosts could tell you some stories," he said, his light growing cheerfully brighter.

"Don't even think about telling tales on me," Wren grinned.

"Then you stop worrying about living up to being a Guardian. You're doing great."

"No promises."

Wren slid off the wing of the ship onto the catwalk below, Kiran gliding down to join her. Sisre strode up beside her, Rorick close behind.

"Where ya headed, Wren?"

"Sleep, food, and shower, though not necessarily in that order."

"We're going to head down to the ramen shop. You wanna tag along? I'm sure you'll be the talk of the town."

"Guardians' would line up to buy you a drink and listen to your story," Rorick said.

"Thanks, but I don't think I want that kind of attention."

"Suit yourself," Sisre said. "We'll see you soon."

The pair of Titans walked around her, their long strides putting distance between them in a matter of seconds. Wren wasn't in any hurry. Her stomach growled and she wondered what choice she'd have for food without going into the city, but her thoughts were interrupted when a familiar voice caught her attention.

"Hey, Robin, C'mere!" Cayde called, waving a wrench above his head.

Wren huffed and headed his direction, but she didn't bother to correct him about her name. She got the feeling he was doing it on purpose anyway. "Yeah?"

"Wanted you to meet the Shipwright. Amanda Holliday," he said, as a blonde woman slid out from under the wing of a jump ship, grease streaked across her freckled face.

"Thought your name was Wren?" she said, reaching up to shake Wren's hand.

"It is," Wren replied, shaking Holliday's hand and glaring at Cayde who only smiled back innocently.

"Heard about what you did out there," he said.

"Already?"

"Guardians don't waste time telling stories. So, why don't you tell us yours?" Cayde leaned back and made himself comfortable, crossing his arms over his chest. Holliday sat on the catwalk, propped up on her arms as she waited for the story to begin.

Wren opened her mouth, Cayde's eyes lit up, and she shrugged. "Not much to tell. Sisre and Rorick went after the first Knight and cleared the outside of the Temple while I went in and killed the Swarm Princes."

Cayde's face fell, the gleam gone from his eyes. "And?"

"And… now we're back?"

"Jeeze kid, I really gotta teach you how to tell a story. Eh, it's fine. You got the basics; I can add the spice."

"Spice?"

"Trust me, you don't wanna know," Holliday laughed. "Don' matter anyway. Stories 'round here aren't taken too serious. Everyone knows Guardian stories are at least seventy five percent bull," she glanced up at Cayde, "and about ninety percent if you get em from that one."

"There's nothin' wrong with a couple tasteful exaggerations here and there," Cayde shrugged.

Holliday chuckled and threw a grease rag at him. "You're the worst."

"So where are you headed?" Cayde asked, slinging the rag over his shoulder.

"I'm hungry but I don't want to go down into the city."

"Why not?"

"You heard her story tellin'," Holliday smiled, raising a brow at Cayde.

"Yeah," Wren said quietly, rubbing the back of her neck. "I don't think I'm going to like that kind of attention."

"Well, I'll go with you!" Cayde piped up. "I'd love to tell your story for you. Been a long time since I had a fresh one."

"I don't know if I feel right sitting there while you make up what happened. Is there anywhere I can eat in the Tower?"

"Sorry, kid," Cayde shrugged. "The City or nothin'."

Wren sighed.

"Look, we'll go somewhere quiet then," Cayde offered and Holliday glanced up at him. He didn't pay her any mind.

Wren opened her mouth to protest but her stomach spoke for her.

"Go get that girl some food," Holliday said, slipping down under the ship again. "Nice meetin' you Wren."

"You too," Wren waved and Cayde strode ahead, proud as a peacock. He waved to everyone as they passed, telling them all she was the Guardian who destroyed the Sword of Crota. Before they even got out of the Tower she was regretting letting him talk her into going anywhere with him but by the time they reached the City he was quiet.

He led her through bustling markets as he had before, but slowly the streets grew closer on both sides and the crowds grew thinner until they were nothing more than shadows watching them from the darkness. They wound through narrow back alleys where boxes were stacked, trash cans overflowed with garbage, and chickens ran ahead of them, squawking loudly. Wren had to jog at times to keep up with Cayde but he not once looked back to see if she was still there. Not until she tripped in a pothole and fell forward, catching his cloak to stop her fall. He stopped in his tracks and looked back at her, a handful of black fabric clutched tight in her fists.

"Sorry," she muttered and straightened herself. She could feel her face flush but Cayde just shook his head, chuckled, and walked on.

"We're almost there," he said when they rounded a corner into an alley that was so narrow, they couldn't have walked down it shoulder to shoulder.

The walls hugged tight and wires ran between the buildings higher up and a few windows were open further up. The bright light of the Traveler was only a sliver of white when she looked up toward the sky. Smoke drifted lazily from unknown places, possibly windows that weren't viewable from the alley below. Wren couldn't tell.

Cayde stopped at a rusted door with a flickering light over it. Wren took a step back. This was getting too weird for her. He must have sensed her unease because he stopped, hand prepared to knock, and shot her a cocky smirk.

"It's a Hunter hang out. Usually quiet this time of the week. Jeeze you're jumpy," he laughed, shook his head, and knocked on the door.

A sliding metal slot opened, and a pair of bright, mechanical yellow eyes stared back at them. "Password."

Cayde glanced at Wren, still grinning, and put his hands on his hips. He straightened up and said, "Titan's suck."

"Nope," the voice replied and slammed the slot closed.

Cayde withered. "What the…." He knocked again. The slot opened. "What the hell, Derrick. It was Titans suck yesterday."

"That was yesterday. This is today."

Cayde pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. "Derrick…. I make the passwords. If I haven't given you a new one, then you can assume the old one still works."

Derrick's yellow orbs focused, then refocused, then he opened the door.

Wren followed through the door into another narrow space, past the Exo called Derrick. He was a rickety old thing; covered in half rusted armor and leather that had worn through in spots. His cloak was short and ragged at the edges; burnt and frayed. He gave her a curt nod, closed the door, then stood at it; eye level with the slot as if he was waiting for someone else. Titans suck was written in thick black letters on the back side of the door along with countless others that had been marked out.

When she turned toward Cayde he was already down the hall, passing beneath gently swaying light bulbs toward another door at the far end. She trotted to catch up to him and when she did, he spoke.

"Derrick-66. Good guy. Been reset a lot. And I mean, a lot. You think Banshee's muddled? That guy is—" Cayde whistled.

"Is it safe to have him at the door then?"

"Eh, it's not really necessary to have anyone there at all," Cayde said quietly. "See, his Ghost was taken out a long time ago so even if his mind was still right, he can't be out in the field anymore and he can't remember his trade like Banshee does. This gives him a sense of purpose. Even if it's small."

Wren looked back at Derrick, still standing with his nose practically on the door, and felt… she wasn't sure. Pity? He most likely couldn't remember what being a Guardian was like to miss it. If she told him she felt sorry for him, he might not understand why. It also gave her a slightly different view on Cayde. This poor old soul that lived nose to nose with a door meant enough to Cayde for him to be given a purpose. He wasn't forgotten.

Kiran blinked at her, twisted, and rose. She could swear he understood her change without even telling him and he was proud of himself. Or, proud of Cayde for proving Wren wrong.

Behind the next door was a cozy nest of a place. Battered tables sat too close together with chairs sprinkled around in a way that made it impossible to tell where they belonged. The lighting was bad and some of the bulbs had been replaced with red or blue ones out of necessity. There were no windows, but the outside walls were lined with dark little booths, some covered over with curtains a of beads.

A bar stretched along the right wall and an Awoken with pale purple eyes, light grey skin, and straight black hair pulled into a messy ponytail poured a patron a drink. The Hunter didn't even raise his head when Wren and Cayde walked in, but a group toward the back did. A human poked his head around booth at them, muttered something to his friends, then an Exo and two more humans glanced around at him.

One of the human women said something to the others, then left the booth to approach Wren and Cayde. She was a few inches taller than Wren, with dyed pink hair braided tightly on the sides of her head, the rest pulled up into a flowing ponytail that grazed her bare shoulders.

"Hey," she said, giving Wren a once over before turning her deep brown eyes up at Cayde. "You want to join us for a few drinks?"

Cayde looked at Wren. "What do you think?"

Wren opened her mouth to speak, but the woman interrupted her. "There's only room for one."

"Well then you'd have to take her," Cayde shrugged.

"This shrimp?" the woman laughed, crossing her arms and raising a brow.

Wren was taken aback. She hadn't even spoken to this woman and she was calling her name? Her fists clenched at her sides and she opened her mouth to speak, but Cayde beat her to it.

"This 'shrimp' just destroyed the Sword of Crota and killed like, half a dozen Hive Princes," he said.

Wren tensed, now shifting her eyes to her Vanguard. Half a dozen?

The woman scowled at Wren, bit her lip, then forced a smile. "We only have room for one. If you change your mind Cayde, you know where to find me." She turned on her heel, long cloak hitting Wren's legs as she spun, and walked back to her table.

"That was a lie," Wren whispered.

"So what? Emilie is just being a—"

"What'll it be, Cayde?" the bartender said, calling their attention to her. She leaned onto her elbows on the bar.

Cayde hopped up onto a bar stool and nudged the one beside him with his foot, signaling Wren to sit. She stared at the stool, glared at him, and stepped up the metal rungs to sit down. Her feet dangled, unable to rest on the rungs. Cayde chuckled.

"The usual. Double," he said, holding up two fingers. The bartender smiled at Wren, then to Cayde, then she went off into a back room.

"What is she bringing back?"

"Fried chicken and these potato things. I don't remember what she calls them, but it's baked and has cheese and stuff. Trust me, it's delicious. Oh, and alcohol."

"Alcohol?"

"Yup. Also called liquid courage. You probably haven't had that since you woke up. Eh, you can handle it."

Wren could hear the Hunters in the corner speaking among themselves and she could swear she felt them watching her but she didn't turn around. Instead she leaned her elbows onto the bar and occupied herself with reading the labels on bottles. What of them she could understand anyway. Some had the same blocky text she'd seen in the Cosmodrone and others were scrawled across the bottle in more fluid, brush-like strokes.

"You ever have friend chicken?" he asked.

"No."

Silence.

"Eh… well, what have you tried since you woke up?"

"Just ramen."

Silence

"So… how's that Better Devils treatin' ya?"

"It's great."

He nodded.

Silence.

"I think I should explain how a conversation goes," he said, turning to her. "See, first one person says something. Then the other person replies in a way that the first person can also reply to. So I say, 'How's that Better Devils treatin' ya?' and you say something like, 'It's great. It was super useful killing those Hive Princes.' Then I can be like, 'Oh yeah? Tell me about that. How'd you take 'em down?'"

Wren narrowed her eyes at him. "I know how conversation works."

"Ok, so…" he trailed. "How'd you take 'em down?"

"You really want a story, don't you?"

"More than you know," he groaned. "I mean, these Hunters are awesome any everything, well most of them are, but the stories are the same these days. Took out some thieving Fallen, brought back some missing cache, blah blah. This is big kid. Real big. Sword of Crota big."

The bartender came back and set their food in front of them then made up some drinks. For a moment Cayde was preoccupied with that; loading down the chicken with hot sauce as the bartender put their drinks in front of them. He downed it in one gulp and asked for another. She rolled her eyes and laughed, pouring another before going to tend to the Hunter sitting farther down the bar.

Wren had forgotten they were there. She glanced over to see if she could make out their face, but no luck. They were wrapped in a full cloak; sleeves and all. It wasn't like the ones she'd seen so many other Hunters wear, covering their entire body with a larger cowl that would be difficult to see around in battle. But there was a sliver of blue was visible underneath. Blue armor? Their actual cloak maybe? Wren couldn't tell. Something about the faceless figure gave her the creeps but she was brought back to Cayde when he nudged her elbow.

"Try this," he said, tapping her glass with his leather clad finger.

She picked it up and inspected it, taking a sniff of it before jerking away with a grimace. "Smells terrible."

"Just drink it."

One sip and she grimaced some more as the amber liquid burned its way down to her stomach. "I don't think I like this."

Cayde laughed. "Don't drink it then. I'll get you something else if you want."

"It's okay," she said, sliding the glass away. It was bad enough he'd given her a weapon and now this was the second time he'd bought her food. She didn't want him going any more out of the way or doing anything more for her that others might use against her.

"Tell me this story," he said, taking a bite of chicken.

Wren tried not to look, though she was curious of how an Exo was supposed to eat. She picked at the chicken before her and pulled off a strip of meat before popping it into her mouth. How was she supposed to tell him what happened in a way that would get him off her back but not make her feel like a complete fool?

Wren grabbed the alcohol and took a deep gulp, her face contorting, throat burning like she'd swallowed a torch. And yet… the burn faded, her shoulders loosened, and her body grew warm.

"Slow down," he said, putting a hand over the top of glass and pushing it down toward the bar. "You get hammered and you'll regret it."

"Ok," she inhaled, bracing her hands on the edge of the bar and leaning back. "Here's what happened. You know the Hellmouth, right?"

"You bet," he said, adjusting to face her more, wide grin lighting up his face.

She took a deep breath and recounted what happened, leaving out her fear of delving into the tight, confined, darkness that comprised the halls of the Hive fortress. At first she didn't go into much detail, but his expressions egged her on. He was genuinely interested in what she had to say, scarfing down chicken but never taking his eyes off her. Before she knew it, several glasses sat empty between them, Cayde's plate covered in bones, and her story was told.

"See, kid, now that's a story," he beamed.

"I did okay?"

"You did okay. You could still learn from a master," he said, jabbing a thumb at his chest, "but you did good."

Wren smiled down at her empty glass, swirling a drop of liquid around the bottom. "I kind of like this stuff."

"I think you've had enough," he chuckled. "You feelin' alright?"

"A little lightheaded, but yeah."

"You ready to head back to the Tower?"

Wren sighed and thought for a moment. "Not really. Hey, you wanna go for that Sparrow ride?"

"Not a chance. You don't drive Sparrows when you've been drinking. Let's get you home. You really can not handle liquor."

Cayde paid the tab and stood, Wren stumbling from the barstool, falling into him. She giggled, covering her mouth with her hand as he helped her regain her balance. The booze hit her harder when she stood up and the room swayed.

"Maybe next time we'll skip the whiskey," he said with a tilt of his head.

"I'm okay, I'm okay." She patted his arm and headed toward the door and being overwhelmed with emotion at the sight of Derrick, she hugged him tightly. "Sweet Derrick," she muttered.

The Exo's yellow eyes widened in surprise and he stared down at her, blinking rapidly, arms half up.

"Uh… Cayde?" He looked to his friend, who laughed and peeled Wren from his waist. "Is she…"

"More drunk than I thought," Cayde said. "Alright, kid, let's get you home."

"She's gonna feel that in the morning," Derrick said, opening the door for them.

"Bye Derrick," Wren waved as she stepped out into the street, tripping into the wall on the other side of the narrow alley. She laughed again, tilting her head back to stare up at the sky above. The world spun and tipped and when she blinked, she was looking up at Cayde, his head a mere silhouette against the light from above but his blue eyes stared at her intently. "Is this normal?"

He helped her to her feet. "For a lightweight."

"Lightweight?"

"Means it doesn't take much to get you drunk," he said, guiding her down the alley.

The door opened behind them and the same woman from before called to Cayde. "Hey, why don't you drop the kid off and come play with the adults?"

Wren whipped around to protest but her stomach protested for her. She clenched her mouth shut, gripping Cayde's arm to keep herself standing.

"What's your issue, Emelie?" Cayde asked.

"No issue," she replied, crossing her arms. "I just don't see why you'd rather hang out with a scrawny little runt than hang out with me."

"Because this scrawny little runt doesn't make an ass of herself."

Emelie snorted. "Oh please. She can't even stand up."

"Oh, let me put this another way," Cayde said, his tone firm. "I don't want to hang out with Guardians who have nothing better to do than cut other people down. Maybe if you'd stop acting like a bitch and go back to the laid back Hunter you used to be, I'd take the time to hang out with you."

Her eyes narrowed at him, mouth pulled into a tight line.

"Now you get on back to those people you're wanting to show off to," he said, waving toward the door where Derrick was watching from the shadows.

Without another word Emelie turned on her heel and stormed back into the bar, leaving Cayde and Wren alone in the alley.

"Oh wow," Wren breathed, looking up at Cayde. "That was really mean."

"Aw, what?" he flung his hands up. "I was defending you and you just… mean? I'm mean?"

"You called her a bitch." Wren gasped.

"I said she was acting like a bitch, there's a difference."

"A bitch though…."

"She called you a scrawny little runt."

"But I am though."

Cayde let his arms drop to his sides and regarded her for a moment, his expression dropping. "I'll apologize to her later."

"Promise?" Wren held out a hand, pinkie extended. He raised a brow at her.

"Seriously? Pinkie promise?"

"It's sacred."

"Fine." He hooked his pinkie with her and shook. "C'mon you little troublemaker."

Wren followed Cayde, somewhere between a dream and intense nausea, lights splitting into multiple forms, like fireflies. Smells swarmed her, sounds exploded in her ears, and everything was incredibly funny. Her shoulders relaxed, feet heavy as stones, eyelids threatening to close any moment.

After a time she realized she hadn't been paying Cayde any attention. Was she lost? Her eyes drifted down to her hand and the bundle of black fabric gripped tightly in her fist. He was leading her a long like a little kid and Emelie's words trickled back into her brain. Was she really like a child to him? Some helpless thing he had to lead along?

She stopped in her tracks and dropped his cloak but he noticed immediately and turned around.

"Doin' alright back there? Feeling sick or something?"

"I can go back by myself."

He hesitated, then jabbed a thumb toward the Tower. "We're almost there."

"I'm not a kid."

"I know you're not."

"I can go by myself," she repeated.

"You're drunk. I'm not leaving you alone until you're back in your own room. No tellin' what kinda trouble you'd get into out here."

Wren swayed, fidgeted with her hands, and struggled to find words for what she wanted to say. After a moment's hesitation, Cayde took a step toward her, extending a hand with the tattered hem of his cloak. She didn't have the stomach to fight. She grabbed his cloak and let him lead her home.