Braxton was unsurprisingly difficult to have a serious conversation with. For the life of him, Jim could not get his friend to sit down and talk. As his alarm blared him awake at frustratingly-early-o'clock, Jim found himself almost looking forward to his second day of service. At least he might have the chance to finally talk to Braxton

Jim dressed in his darkest pair of pants and oldest shirt. This time he grabbed his shoulder bag and tossed in his supplies so he could take a shower after service. He pulled on his boots on the way out his door.

The dining hall was empty as expected. "Braxton!" Jim slid his tray onto the table across from his friend. "Ready for magical and exceptional animals today?"

Braxton nodded. "Absolutely. I can't wait to meet this cat you told us about! What did you say his name was again?"

"He introduced himself as Puss in Boots. I called him Mister Boots and he seemed okay with that." Jim picked up his toast and ripped the crust off of it. "So, Braxton? There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about."

"I swear to god, Jim, if you ask me out, you're sitting at a different table."

Jim threw a piece of his crust at Braxton. "Shut up and listen. I absolutely am not asking you out. I've got higher standards than that!"

Braxton swatted the bite of toast out of the way. "No you don't. You asked out Matt."

"What's wrong with Matt?"

"Nothing. He's better than Sy, at least."

Jim's temper flared. "What's wrong with Sy?" he demanded sharply.

Braxton raised an eyebrow. He shrugged. "He's naive, idealistic, probably going to get chewed up and spat out as soon as he's away from people who can protect him. Face it, he's just not cut out for this. Matt'll go into some specialty something-or-another, we both know that. They're not going to let his skills go to waste just to have another blaster on the field. But Sy isn't anything special."

"He's more special than you are," Jim muttered into his toast. "And he's the one I wanted to talk to you about. Besides the fact you're unnecessarily cruel to him, your radio thing makes him uncomfortable."

Braxton snorted. "Surprising. I didn't think he was the kind to discriminate. Guess his innocent and pure act is just that, isn't it. Admitted to you he doesn't much like cyborgs, hmm?"

"Get over yourself. Your planet might be backwards, by Sy isn't. He doesn't like that you listen in on the teachers. I'm not saying that you've gotta stop or anything, just don't do it in front of him. And don't talk about doing it around him. He's got important people to impress, and I'm not going to just sit by while you make things harder on him."

Braxton raised an eyebrow. "Important people? Like who."

"His family," Jim answered promptly. Braxton rolled his eyes. Jim defended his answer, "They're important to Sy, so that makes them important. Just because you don't care doesn't mean we don't."

"James Hawkins, defender of the weak. Now there's a surprise."

Jim glared back at Braxton. "Get over yourself! Being strong isn't everything. Why are you cyborgs so difficult?"

"There you go again." Braxton slammed his palms onto the table as he stood up. "You cyborgs this, you cyborgs that. I thought I left all that behind when I came here. I am sick and tired of you treating me like some second class citizen, like I'm less than human. I am more than human!"

Jim was on his feet as well. He leaned in across the table, glaring right back at Braxton. "Well you're certainly acting less than human right now."

Braxton snatched up his tray. "Then I won't trouble you to sit with someone so far beneath you." He stalked off to another table, leaving Jim alone.

Jim dropped back down into his seat. "Glad to see you go," he muttered to his eggs. Neither boy looked at each other again as they finished their breakfasts.