John sighed inwardly, thinking to himself that maybe, just maybe, he'd made a small mistake. Still, he shrugged it off with a casual "Oh well," his mind not lingering too long on what exactly he'd done wrong. He took another slow sip of his coffee, enjoying the warmth that cut through the slight chill of the outpost's morning air.
His right hand was bandaged from the recent battle, a reminder of how reckless things had gotten. But today was different—calm. He scanned the outline of the mission that had originally been given to Takumi, leaning back on the bench. His eyes skimmed the report, detailing the region in the outer rim where he had once faked his own death. It described an area where a curse was blamed for a rising number of disappearances, though John had already exorcised that curse. Strangely, the disappearances hadn't stopped. In fact, they'd increased.
"Something's off..." he muttered to himself, flicking through the pages. According to the report, local informants had not found any evidence of a non-curse related reason for the disappearances. No organized crime, no strange environmental factors, no mass evacuations—just vanishing people.
John smirked wryly. "So, I've got to head back to the place where I 'died'," he mused, his thoughts turning to the challenges ahead. One thing was clear—he couldn't just waltz back into the outer rim with his current face. He'd need a reason to leave the outpost, and, more importantly, a solid disguise.
As if on cue, he spotted Anis strolling by, her relaxed expression contrasting with her usual combat intensity. "Perfect," he thought, a mischievous grin playing on his lips.
"Hey, Anis!" John called out, raising his uninjured hand in greeting. "I need your help."
Anis raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What kind of help are we talking about, Commander?"
"I need to go shopping," John began, tapping the side of his coffee cup. "And I have no idea what I'm doing. Clothes shopping, to be exact. Thought you could lend me a hand... and maybe I'll buy you a gift for your trouble?"
At the mention of shopping—and the promise of a gift—Anis' eyes lit up. She practically bounced in place. "Shopping? With you? Well, I was planning to laze off all day, but I won't say no to a new outfit. What's the catch?"
"No catch," John replied, a mischievous tone sneaking into his voice. "Just need your help picking something out. And you get a reward for your trouble. Sound fair?"
Anis grinned back, excitement bubbling up. "You've got yourself a deal. Where are we headed?"
John patted the spot on the bench beside him. "Sit down for a second, we'll talk details."
She didn't need to be asked twice. With a little bounce in her step, she plopped down beside him, already daydreaming about what gift she'd make him buy. But just as she settled, John's grin widened, and he stopped mid-sentence, feigning a sudden realization.
"What?" Anis asked, confused by his expression. "What are you looking at me like that for?"
John tried to hold back a laugh. "I may have... forgotten to mention something."
Anis furrowed her brow. "John. What did you do?"
"You see," he began, tapping his fingers against his coffee cup, "this bench... was freshly painted not too long ago."
The color drained from Anis' face as she shot up, her eyes widening as she looked down at the now-streaked paint on her pants. "You—! I can't believe you!" She growled, trying and failing to wipe the wet paint off her clothes.
John couldn't hold it in anymore and burst out laughing. "Hey, I got stuck on it first."
Anis glared at him, but the excitement in her eyes hadn't faded. "You're gonna pay for this," she threatened playfully, shaking her head. "And I'm not letting you get out of buying me that gift now!"
John chuckled. "Deal. But seriously, I need your help with something more than just picking out clothes."
Anis raised an eyebrow, her annoyance quickly dissipating. "Go on."
"I'm heading out on a mission soon, but I can't go looking like myself. I need a solid disguise, and you're the only one I trust to make sure I don't end up looking ridiculous. Think you can help?"
Anis folded her arms, clearly intrigued. "Disguise, huh? Oh, I can help alright. But you better not try pulling another prank, or I might make you look like a clown on purpose."
John flashed a grin. "I wouldn't dream of it."
It wasn't long before they spotted Neon walking in the distance. A silent understanding passed between John and Anis as they exchanged knowing looks, a mischievous gleam flashing in their eyes. Without a word, they both called out in unison, "Neon! Come over here!"
John leaned back in his chair, absently tapping the edge of a file against the desk, his eyes skimming over yet another report. Stacks of paperwork covered the surface, the once organized chaos now threatening to spill over the edge. He let out a sigh, his gaze flicking towards the window, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the room. It was the sort of monotonous, never-ending admin work that came with command, but today felt especially slow.
Across the desk, Rapi sat as rigid as ever, her fingers methodically flipping through the papers in front of her. She made quick work of her assigned tasks, but a furrow in her brow hinted at something on her mind. Her usual stoicism had an edge today.
"You know," she said after a pause, still focused on the stack in front of her, "I saw Anis and Neon doing the laundry earlier."
John raised an eyebrow, glancing over the papers in his hands but clearly more interested in what she was about to say.
Rapi continued, her voice as even as ever. "They weren't asked, and I didn't even have to remind them. I thought, maybe…" Her voice trailed off for a moment, as if she was considering her words carefully. "Maybe they were maturing. Taking responsibility."
John kept his face neutral, but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes as he waited for her to finish.
Rapi looked up from the papers and met his gaze. "Then it hit me. They weren't doing it out of responsibility. They were just trying to clean up the paint you got on their clothes."
John grinned, finally unable to hold back his amusement. "You're not wrong," he said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the desk. "But hey, at least they're cleaning up after themselves now."
Rapi sighed, shaking her head slightly, though there was a faint trace of something like affection beneath her exasperation. "I suppose that's progress in its own way."
"They're not the best at laundry, though, are they?" John mused, recalling the chaos that usually followed when the two were left to their own devices for tasks like that.
Rapi nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line. "No. They're not. I'm half expecting them to ruin their clothes by the end of the day."
John chuckled. "If they manage to shrink your skirt any shorter in the wash, I might have to give them a medal."
Rapi's composure faltered for just a moment. A light blush crept up her neck, but she quickly looked back down at her paperwork, not dignifying his joke with a response.
John grinned, satisfied with her reaction but decided to let it slide without pushing further.
A comfortable silence settled between them, both focusing on their respective work until John cleared his throat.
"By the way," he said, his tone casual but with a hint of purpose, "I've taken on a new mission."
Rapi looked up, her brow furrowing slightly. "Another mission? I thought we were on leave."
John leaned back in his chair, spinning a file in his hands. "Technically, we are. Combat missions, at least. But this one's covert—just a simple surveillance job. Outer Rim territory."
Rapi's expression darkened, and she put her papers down completely. "What kind of surveillance job?"
John raised an eyebrow at her tone. "Nothing too dangerous. We're just keeping an eye on a suspected brothel. The catch is, they're allegedly using illegally obtained Nikkes."
Rapi's frown deepened, and she crossed her arms over her chest. "And who's going with you?"
"Exotic Squad." John's grin widened at the immediate tension that followed his words. "You know—Crow, Jackal, and Viper."
Rapi's lips thinned as she processed this. "Exotic Squad. Criminals and former terrorists."
John shrugged, unfazed. "They've been reformed and the central government seems to trust them. Besides, it's not a combat mission, just surveillance."
Rapi didn't seem convinced. "I've read their files. Reformed or not, they're volatile."
John waved her concern away with a flick of his hand. "I'm sure they'll behave. Besides, I'll be relying on you to hold things down here while I'm gone."
Rapi's frown softened into a look of concern. "How did you even get accepted for this mission?"
John chuckled softly, leaning back with a shrug. "Lack of applicants, really. Apparently, no one else wanted to deal with a covert mission out in the Outer Rim. And since we're on leave from combat but not non-combat missions, I figured—why not?"
Rapi studied him for a long moment, clearly torn between her instincts as a leader and her loyalty to him as her commander. Finally, she sighed, the tension easing from her shoulders slightly. "Just… be careful."
John leaned back, casually folding his arms behind his head, clearly satisfied with the upcoming mission, but his attention soon shifted to a more immediate, lighter matter. "By the way," he began, glancing over at Rapi with a mischievous grin, "I'm taking Anis clothes shopping later today. She's gonna help me pick out something new for myself, and I'm getting her something nice too. Y'know, as a 'thanks' for coming along and... for ruining her clothes."
Rapi raised an eyebrow, but John wasn't done. "Oh, and Neon found out I'm getting Anis a gift, so now I have to buy her something too. I've got my eye on a limited-edition firearms magazine for her."
The mention of Neon brought a small smile to Rapi's face. "That sounds like something Neon would appreciate."
John nodded, before tilting his head slightly in her direction. "So, what about you, Rapi? Anything you want while we're out? Maybe a nice snack or some luxury pajamas?"
Rapi's expression didn't change, but there was a brief pause before she responded in her usual calm tone. "I have no need for anything, Commander. Nikkes like me don't require such things."
John waved her response off, leaning forward in mock seriousness. "C'mon, Rapi, don't be a spoilsport. A tasty snack, something cozy to wear... Everyone needs a little treat sometimes."
Her gaze remained steady, her eyes reflecting a touch of bemusement. "As a Nikke, I don't experience hunger or discomfort in the same way humans do. I do not need any luxuries."
John grinned, undeterred. "Well, that's not gonna stop me from picking something out for you. You'll just have to deal with it."
Rapi blinked, her calm composure slipping just enough to reveal a trace of exasperation. "Commander—"
But John cut her off with a teasing smile. "Nope, I've already made up my mind. You'll get something whether you like it or not. Consider it an order."
Despite herself, Rapi allowed the smallest of sighs, knowing there was no winning this. "If that is your decision..."
John chuckled, pleased with his victory, though he could see the faintest hint of a blush creeping up her cheeks. "Don't worry, I'll make sure it's something practical. Maybe... combat-themed pajamas?"
Rapi glanced away, visibly resigned to whatever fate awaited her at the hands of her teasing commander.
John and Anis walked through the bustling heart of downtown Ark, a place that hummed with life despite being buried deep beneath the surface. The energy here was undeniable—conversations overlapped, the sound of footsteps blended into the ever-present hum of the city, and the artificial sky above bathed everything in the warm glow of a simulated afternoon. The Dome of Eternity, which projected a perfect, tranquil sky, felt like a thin veil over the chaos and artificiality of the Ark, and yet it somehow offered a semblance of peace in the concrete world.
As they strolled down the main street, John couldn't help but notice the way Anis moved with a certain bounce, her footsteps light and her eyes flitting from one shopfront to the next. She was like a whirlwind of energy, constantly moving, constantly searching for something new to latch onto. The vibe of the street matched her pace—a perfect harmony of organized chaos. Vendors called out, offering their goods, people bustled in and out of shops, and the occasional laugh or shout echoed down the corridor of buildings that stretched before them.
"Downtown's the busiest part of the Ark," Anis said, turning to glance at John with a grin. "You can find just about anything here. It's... wild, y'know?"
John gave her a smirk. "Yeah, I can see that. You sure you can keep up?"
Anis laughed, a light, carefree sound that cut through the noise of the street. "Keep up? Please. This is my playground, Commander. I've been through here a hundred times." She gestured around with a flourish, spinning on her heel. "There's always something going on—always someone to see, something to do. Just don't get too attached. The Ark can turn on you if you're not careful."
They turned down a side street, the shops becoming slightly more upscale, the crowds thinning just a bit as the ambiance shifted. The boutique Anis dragged him into was sleek and modern, with glass displays and racks of clothes that stretched from one end of the room to the other. Everything gleamed under the bright lights—each piece of clothing carefully curated and arranged.
Anis wasted no time diving into the racks, flipping through jackets, tops, and various accessories. Her eyes gleamed with excitement, a far cry from the cynical quips she'd made earlier. She seemed at home here, in the midst of all this chaos and materialism. She paused, pulling a bright, bold jacket from one of the racks and holding it up against her body, her grin growing wider.
"What do you think?" she asked, spinning around to show it off. "Fierce enough for the next mission?"
John raised an eyebrow, leaning against one of the nearby displays. "Fierce? Yeah, that's one word for it. You sure you won't blind the enemy with that thing?"
Anis gave an exaggerated gasp, clutching the jacket to her chest as if it were the most precious thing in the world. "Blind them? Commander, this is fashion!" she declared with mock offense, spinning around dramatically to examine herself in the full-length mirror. The jacket's bright colors seemed to shimmer under the boutique's lights, accentuating her mischievous grin. "Besides," she added, adjusting the collar with a wink at her reflection, "I look amazing in anything, don't I?"
John couldn't help but laugh at her antics. There was something infectious about the way she so easily shifted the mood, making even the mundane feel like a performance. "If you say so," he replied, shaking his head with amusement.
They moved deeper into the store, weaving through the racks as Anis continued her playful spree. She flitted from one display to the next, holding up outfits that ranged from the downright eccentric to surprisingly chic. "Oh, this one's perfect for blending in at a covert mission," she quipped, holding up a leopard-print scarf. "Nothing says 'stealth' like animal print."
John snorted, crossing his arms. "Yeah, if your mission is to make everyone in a five-mile radius notice you."
Anis ignored him, tossing the scarf over her shoulder dramatically and pretending to strike a spy pose. "Maybe that's the secret," she teased. "They'll be so busy staring, they won't even realize I'm about to take them down."
John found himself grinning despite the absurdity. It was moments like these—rare, lighthearted, and almost normal—that made him momentarily forget the weight of his responsibilities. Here they were, in the middle of an underground city, a battlefield just outside the walls, and they were debating the merits of fashion like it was the most important thing in the world. It felt surreal, in the best way.
But as John scanned the room, that sense of ease began to unravel. At first, it was nothing—just a couple of sideways glances from other shoppers. But then he noticed the whispers, the furtive looks cast in their direction. People weren't just noticing them—they were avoiding them. More specifically, they were avoiding Anis.
His smile faded as his attention zeroed in on the way people subtly shifted away from her, giving her a wider berth than they gave anyone else in the store. Some of the patrons whispered behind raised hands, others just turned their backs, as though ignoring her would make her disappear.
Anis, ever the performer, kept her smile plastered on her face, but John could see the strain in her posture. Her carefree attitude was still there, but it was forced now, like a mask she had learned to wear. She still held up outfits and made jokes, but her movements had lost some of their earlier enthusiasm. Her shoulders, usually relaxed, were stiff, and the bright light in her eyes seemed to dim just a little. She noticed the stares, just as much as he did, but she was pretending otherwise.
John's jaw tightened, the muscles working beneath his skin as he took in the full picture. This wasn't the first time he'd seen it—the way people reacted to Nikkes, to those who were more than human, but less than accepted. It was a subtle kind of discrimination, quiet but insidious, and it made his blood boil. He could feel his fists curling at his sides, his body tensing with the need to do something, to say something.
But he held back.
They approached the counter with a handful of clothes—mostly Anis' picks, though John had thrown in a plain jacket, just in case. He handed over his credits, trying to focus on the transaction instead of the growing frustration that gnawed at him. Just as the cashier was about to take the payment, a man walked past them, his voice cutting through the store's pleasant ambiance like a knife.
The man's sneer didn't go unnoticed. His muttered words were just loud enough to slice through the air between them like a rusty blade.
"I don't know why they let those walking weapons in here."
John's reaction was immediate. The tension that had been simmering beneath his skin finally boiled over. His eyes blazed, his temper igniting like a match to gasoline. He turned sharply, his voice slicing through the noise of the store, cold and sharp as a knife. "You got something to say? Say it to me."
The man hesitated, clearly startled by the direct confrontation, but arrogance quickly replaced his surprise. His lip curled, disdain dripping from every syllable as his gaze flicked dismissively over Anis. "Nikkes shouldn't be here," he spat, as if the word was filth on his tongue. "They should be fighting, not playing dress-up and pretending to be human."
John's patience shattered, the thin thread that had been holding him back finally snapping. "You think you can talk to her like that, huh?" His voice was low. "You think you can just mouth off without consequences?"
He took a step forward, fists clenched, the knuckles white and shaking with barely restrained fury. "I'll rip your fucking jaw off if you ever talk like that again. She's doing a better job at being human than you ever will."
The man paled, clearly not expecting such a volatile reaction. He shifted nervously, his bravado faltering as the weight of John's threat settled over him like a suffocating blanket. Eyes from all around the store were on them now, the once casual hum of conversation replaced by an eerie, watching silence.
John's fists flexed at his sides, every muscle in his body coiled like a spring, ready to launch if the guy so much as breathed wrong. The tension in the room was thick, crackling like static electricity about to arc. It would take one word, one wrong move, and John would snap.
Before things could spiral further, the store manager rushed over, his face a mask of barely contained panic as he wedged himself between John and the now visibly shaken customer. "Gentlemen, please. Let's not make a scene here." His voice was a strained attempt at diplomacy. "I'm going to have to ask you both to leave."
John's fists remained clenched, every fiber of him still on edge, but before he could respond, he felt Anis' hand on his arm. Her grip was firm, not forceful, but enough to remind him to step back. Her voice, usually so light and teasing, was quiet now, the edges softened by something he couldn't quite read. "Come on, Commander. He's not worth it."
For a moment, John didn't move. His body was still coiled tight, the adrenaline surging through his veins like a storm. But Anis' gentle tug brought him back from the edge. With one last cold glare at the man, John allowed himself to be led out of the store, his fists still trembling with the effort it took to restrain himself from turning back.
The store manager, visibly relieved, gave them a small nod as they exited, but the tension in the air remained thick and oppressive. John's anger lingered, simmering beneath the surface, threatening to bubble over again if given the chance.
Once they were out on the busy streets of downtown Ark, the noise and energy of the city came crashing back in—a stark contrast to the suffocating tension inside the store. John walked in silence, his fists flexing at his sides, his breath still coming in sharp bursts as he tried to calm the storm of rage swirling inside him.
Anis walked beside him, her usual carefree demeanor gone. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The weight of the encounter hung between them, heavy and unspoken.
Finally, Anis broke the silence, her voice quieter than before. "You didn't have to do that, you know."
The words had stung, but what really twisted in Anis' mind was why John had reacted the way he had. She had heard insults like that before—countless times, in fact. But John... his anger had flared so quickly, so fiercely, like a fuse already primed to explode. As they walked down the busy street, the weight of what had just happened still clung to the air between them, and she couldn't help but glance at him out of the corner of her eye.
He walked beside her in silence, his fists flexing and releasing, knuckles still pale from how tightly he'd clenched them. The tension was still there, rolling off him like heat.
Finally, Anis couldn't hold it in anymore. "Why did you get so angry back there?" she asked, her voice quieter than usual, a rare moment of seriousness creeping into her tone.
John sighed, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck, as if trying to shake off the last remnants of his anger. "I'm sorry," he muttered, his voice rough, like it was taking more effort than he expected to admit it. "I shouldn't have lost my cool like that. It's just... the last couple of missions. Everything's been a mess, and I guess it all caught up to me. I didn't mean to get us kicked out."
Anis stopped, looking up at him, her usual playful smirk softened into something more thoughtful. "You didn't need to apologize, Commander. I've... been treated like that before. Plenty of times, actually."
John winced at that, turning to face her. "That doesn't make it right."
"No, it doesn't," Anis agreed, her voice light, though there was something heavier hidden beneath. "But I'm used to it."
She said it like it was just another fact of life, another rule she had long since accepted, but it didn't sit well with John. It never had. He didn't know what was worse—the fact that she was used to it, or that she felt the need to act like it didn't bother her. Maybe it was both. He shoved his hands in his pockets, his shoulders still tense despite his best efforts to relax.
"Still," John muttered, "I should've handled it better. I don't want you thinking I'm just some hothead who's going to make things worse for you."
Anis' lips curled into a small smile, the humor creeping back in, though it was tinged with something gentler. "I mean, you are a bit of a hothead, Commander, but you've got a good heart. That counts for something."
John huffed a laugh, shaking his head as he glanced down the street. "Thanks, I guess."
Anis playfully nudged him with her elbow. "Now come on, you still owe me a new jacket. And maybe something sparkly to make up for getting us booted out of that store."
John chuckled, the tension easing from his shoulders as they started walking again. "You're impossible, you know that?"
"Yep," she grinned. "And you love it."
Spotting a small kiosk selling drinks just down the street, John turned to Anis "I'll be back in a sec."
The street outside the kiosk was buzzing, alive with the noise of people moving along in every direction. The hum of conversation, the click of footsteps on pavement, and the occasional honk from passing cars filled the air. It was loud, but not enough to drown out the storm of thoughts in his head.
As he stood in line, the echoes of the earlier confrontation replayed in his mind. His fists clenched unconsciously at his sides, the tension still coiling inside him.
Why had he gotten so angry? Many people had said worse things about Nikkes, hell, he'd heard worse about himself. And yet, when those words came out, it felt like a fuse had been lit. He could still hear them, faint but piercing: "Walking weapons… pretending to be human."
His jaw clenched, the line moving forward. His body was still buzzing, almost twitching with the urge to fight back. Something about the way the guy had said it—something about the whole situation—just got under his skin.
He wasn't just defending Anis. That was part of it, yeah, but it felt… personal. Like the insult had been aimed at him, too, even though it wasn't.
John drummed his fingers against his leg, feeling the tension travel from his fist to his hand. What the hell was wrong with him? He'd been in worse situations, seen worse crap. And yet… Why was this eating him up? He felt the familiar pull, that same dissonance gnawing at him—the craving for a fight against the need to protect. It was always there, lurking at the back of his mind.
He hated it.
But maybe part of him liked it too.
"Next!" The cashier's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He ordered quickly, trying to shake off the cloud of emotions still hanging over him. As he waited for his drink, the memories drifted back—moments from his past, scars still not fully healed. Fights where he'd gone too far. Times when he hadn't gone far enough. And then there were the ghosts. The ones he couldn't protect.
When his drink was finally ready, he grabbed it without much thought, still lost in the swirl of questions in his head. Why had it felt so good to snap back at the guy? And why did it make him feel like he was losing himself, bit by bit, in the process?
Hopefully it was just stress. Hopefully…
Back at the outpost, the team gathered in the dimly lit common area, the soft hum of the Ark's systems creating a quiet, almost soothing atmosphere. The metallic walls gleamed dully under the low lights, casting long shadows that blended with the gentle clinking of equipment in the distance. It was the kind of calm they rarely got, a moment where the world outside their missions seemed far away, though never completely gone.
Anis, with her usual flair, dropped into one of the worn-out chairs, her new jacket casually draped over the back like a trophy. She spun the chair slightly, propping her boots up on the nearby table. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she glanced at John. "Alright, Commander," she teased, her voice laced with playful sarcasm. "I'll admit, this jacket is a solid pick. Almost makes up for you trashing my old one with that paint prank."
John, leaning casually against the doorframe, crossed his arms with a lazy grin. "I had to make it up somehow, didn't I? Besides, I figure you needed something new after the laundry fiasco." His tone was light, but the smirk on his face betrayed just how much he enjoyed getting a rise out of her.
Anis flicked her hair back, laughing as she gave him a mock dismissive wave. "Sure, sure, Commander. You keep telling yourself that," she said, though it was clear by the way she eyed the jacket again that she was pleased.
Across the room, Neon was sitting cross-legged on the floor, her attention fully absorbed by the limited edition gun magazine John had picked out for her, along with the new formula propellant from Elysion. The magazine's pages were already dog-eared as she flipped through them, and the propellant sat in front of her like a precious relic.
"Commander!" Neon's voice was a mix of awe and excitement. "This is amazing! You have no idea how rare this stuff is! And the magazine? I didn't even think I'd ever get my hands on it!" Her wide eyes sparkled with joy, a stark contrast to her usual focus on firepower.
John couldn't help but chuckle. "I'm glad you like it, Neon. Figured you could use something fun."
Neon nodded eagerly, her focus already shifting back to her new gear, muttering to herself about modifications she could make. Her enthusiasm, as usual, was contagious.
Finally, John's gaze landed on Rapi. She sat quietly, her usual composed demeanor never wavering, but the small box on her lap drew her attention. She hadn't opened it yet, and John could sense her hesitation, her usual professionalism just barely masking a quieter emotion underneath.
"Go on," John said softly, nodding toward the box. "It's not gonna bite."
Rapi blinked, then slowly opened the lid. Inside were the pink dolphin-themed pajamas. For a moment, her stoic expression faltered, replaced with a flicker of surprise. She carefully ran her fingers over the soft fabric, her eyebrows lifting slightly in disbelief. "This one was tough," John admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "Anis and I couldn't figure out what to get you at first. But then Anis remembered..."
Anis jumped in, grinning. "You let it slip once that you liked pink dolphins. Don't think I forgot!
Rapi struggled with how to react, looking over the clothes given to her. "Thank you, Commander. It's... thoughtful,"
She cleared her throat, quickly regaining her usual composure and speaking in an unconvincing tone. "I'll be sure to wear them," she said, a little stiffly, "off-duty, of course."
Anis snickered, leaning back in her chair. "Oh, I'm making sure you do."
The small group shared a light laugh, the tension from earlier slowly dissipating in the warmth of the moment. Even Rapi allowed herself the smallest of smiles, though she quickly covered it by reaching for her tea.
John, sitting back in one of the chairs, took a sip of his drink, his mind momentarily clear. The soft hum of the Ark filled the silence, but it was a welcome sound. It wasn't often they got a chance to unwind like this, to just be people again, even for a little while. But moments like these were important, the kind that kept them going when the missions grew darker, harder. And as they sat there, laughing and joking, the future ahead of them didn't seem quite as heavy.