?Did you see her face?? Steve was sporting a huge grin. His steps on the cobblestone were soft, and his cheap, grey cloak – identical to the one Alessandro was wearing – buffeted him against the wind.

  ?How could I miss it? Jaspinder was on cloud nine?, Alessandro adjusted the lapels on his jacket. He had been given one that was too tight on the chest and with sleeves that were too short, but the alternative was to walk outside with only with his shirt to cover his upper body. The under armour would have kept him reasonably warm, but it was still drying after he had washed it.

  ?Who the hell says “cloud nine” in this day and age, chief??

  ?I do, get over it?.

  ?Alright, alright. Anyway, you know why she was so giddy, don’t you? Tell me more?. Steve opened the door to the tavern, and they were welcomed by warm, stale air, loud chatter, singing, and the smell of food, alcohol, and humanity.

  He hummed. ?I don’t know if I should…?

  ?C'mon, chief, spill it. Is it that girl you two met the other day, the herbalist? Jas couldn’t stop talking about her. Do you think they kissed already??

  Alessandro shook his head. ?What are you, an old lady looking for the next, juicy, gossip? Ask Jaspinder if you’re that interested?. He smirked.

  ?As if she’d tell me. Bah, you’re no fun?, Steve complained. Then he lowered his voice. ?Hey, chief, old man Ed to your ten?.

  ?Roger, I see him. He’s with another male, maybe a friend?. As the door closed behind them, Eiev?reur saw the duo and met his eyes. They exchanged nods and Alessandro moved on. ?Let’s give him his privacy?.

  ?Copy that. Shall we hit the bar and see if they have some good beer??

  ?Sounds good to me?.

  Steve carried on with surety in his step, weaving through the tables, Alessandro close behind. When they tried to order beer, the wiry bartender almost ignored them, but the Italian was anything if not patient, and Steve was persistence made manifest. Hence, after five minutes of broken conversation and a variety of gestures, the duo left the counter a few copper coins lighter and with two mugs of something that smelled sweet and alcoholic.

  ?Mmm, not bad. I think we’ve been overcharged, but the taste is nice. Honey and some herbs... I wonder if they have bees on this planet?, Alessandro said. ?I guess they do, or there are some similar insects?.

  Steve took a sip and immediately made a face. ?Bloody hell. Too sweet! It’s like that drink we had back in Athens. How did the bartender call it??

  ?I guess that was hydromel??

  ?No, no, chief, not in Greece. That guy?. He pointed at the Okkar pouring drinks and giving out wooden bowls at the counter.

  ?Oh! Hunangsvín. I think?.

  ?Okay, now I know what not to order. I’ll finish this ’cause you don’t waste a drink, but I’ll try whatever else they have afterwards?.

  Alessandro grunted noncommittally. ?Go easy with the alcohol, okay??

  ?Wilco, sir?, the Australian replied with a grin.

  Give me strength. ?No, seriously, Cooper. No drinking competitions, no challenging the locals in any way. Last thing we want is a brawl, and I don’t want to listen to Elisa nag at me while she stitches you up?.

  ?Just me??

  ?Obviously. I’d watch from the sidelines as I sip my drink and place bets while you get punched?.

  Steve rolled his eyes. ?Thanks, chief. I’m glad you have my back—?

  ?Anytime?.

  ?—but we’re here to socialise, remember? The old man told us to “live like Okkars to understand their culture”, and I plan to do just that?.

  ?I don’t think Tetsuo had in mind what you are thinking when he said that?.

  ?No drama, chief?. Steve took a long draught, then grimaced. ?You know, this place reminds me of a small pub on the road to Adelaide, where I stumbled back in ’71. The bartender was this lanky guy, blind in one eye and with a missing pinkie, who kept telling every passing tourist that he’d been attacked by a drop bear, fair dinkum. Thing is, at a certain point these two blokes came in, talking in Spanish, and—?

  Alessandro sighed.

  ***

  ?Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink!?

  The chorus of voices became shouts of approval, cheers and swearing as Steve slammed down his empty tankard, next to four other ones. People grumbled and coins passed hands, some arriving to both operators. Steve stood up, bowed with a flourish, and merrily walked away from the table and from the small gathering of spectators that had been betting on his ability to finish his drinks in one go.

  ?Hey, blondie, what did I say about drinking games?? Alessandro said,

  Steve passed a hand through his hair, a silly grin on his face. ?I don’t remember, chief, it was a long time ago?.

  ?It was less than one hour ago?.

  ?As I said, a long time?.

  Alessandro raised an eyebrow.

  ?C’mon, chief, I got free drinks and won some money, you won some money, nobody got hurt. Everybody wins?.

  ?You cheated?.

  ?Such slander! I simply made good use of our enhancements to check my body’s resistance to poisons?.

  With a smirk, Alessandro pocketed his small win. ?I think what you meant to say was: “I checked how much I can drink before getting wasted”. I don’t think the big brains back home had this in mind?.

  ?It’s all data. Scientists like data, no? They’ll see the recordings and thank me, you’ll see?.

  Alessandro laughed. ?You don’t even have your helmet with you. They won’t see shit unless they can read your mind, and if they could, I’d pity them?.

  Steve dismissed his objections with a wave of his hand. ?We’ll tell them. I’ll describe everything and you’ll vouch for me. It’ll be enough?.

  Alessandro raised his other eyebrow, sceptical.

  ?More importantly, chief, there’s a glaring problem here?.

  ?What do you mean??

  ?The distinct lack of women. Don’t get me wrong, nice blokes around here, but I prefer variety, not a sausage fest?.

  ?Steve…?

  ?No drama, chief. I just appreciate the looks of these aliens, especially the women. For science, remember??

  Alessandro stared at him, nonplussed. ?Right… well, I think I saw two or three over there, earlier?, Steve perked up at the words, ?in the company of what I think were their husbands, or whatever the local equivalent is?.

  Steve deflate’d a bit. ?Well, there’s always the waitress?.

  ?Really? Don’t be that guy?.

  ?I’m not going to annoy her. I just want to chat?.

  Once again, Alessandro raised an eyebrow.

  ?Chief, stop being so distrustful. Watch?. He waived at the waitress, smiled and pointed at his tankard. ?Hey, two more!?

  ?Wow, really smooth. I guess I have to get used to spit in my drink, now. By the way, you didn’t tell her what we’re drinking?.

  ?Exactly. This way she has to come here to ask?.

  ?I wouldn’t be so sure?. He pointed at a boy, no older than thirteen, who was approaching the bench they were sitting on, weaving through the tables and other patrons; he cleaned his hands on his apron and addressed them. ?S?lir sirs, I’m Magni. Vi— Humans? You’re the humans that kom from the Forest! Wow, I had aldrei seen a human before?. His eyebrows shot up and he leaned uncomfortably close, his enthusiasm palpable. ?Viltu two more of hunangsvín or of ?l??

  ?Hello, Magni. No hunangsvín. Two ?l, please?. Alessandro replied, wearing a placid smile.

  ?Ask woman bring us, please?, Steve added with a smile of his own, and gave a single copper coin to Magni. The boy took the money, gave him a look between pity and disgust, and went back to the bar without another word.

  ?Way to go, Steve. Real smooth. I felt embarrassed for you, man?.

  ?Come on, it wasn’t that bad?.

  ?Steve, this is the fourth time in less than ten minutes that you make me raise an eyebrow at you. You realise that’s some kind of record, right?? He sighed. ?Why did you have to annoy the kid? And he was such a fan before… If the girl punches you, you’ll apologise and I’ll drag you out by your ear, understood??

  ?Copy, chief, no drama. I just want the chance to chat. If she doesn’t feel like it, no problem. I’ll look for someone else. It’ll only hurt my pride a little?.

  ?Remember rule number six: never anger the waiting staff?.

  ?Wasn’t it rule eleven? Also, do waiters exist here? Shouldn’t we call her “barmaid” or something like that??

  ?It doesn’t matter. Don’t piss her off, okay??

  He raised his tankard in acknowledgement. ?Yes, sir?.

  The duo sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, with Steve finishing his own drink as quickly as possible. Alessandro still hadn’t finished his own when the girl started to move towards them, carrying a number of orders at once. She looked, in one word, busy. Her ponytail swayed hypnotically with her every movement, and a red scarf, covering her hair and forehead, framed a face whose gentle beauty not even the sweat and grime from hours of work could hide. Her dark eyes kept surveying her surroundings like a cat looking for prey, and if the few replies Alessandro had heard her give were any indicator, she was quick of wit and armed with a sharp tongue. The rolled-up sleeves of her green dress showed two well-toned arms, muscles contracting as she carried five tankards with more ease than he would have given her credit for.

  After bringing other patrons their drinks – and put the coins away in one of her belt’s pouches, next to a dagger – the barmaid moved towards the two operators, staring at them with a frown and a look that Alessandro would not really call friendly.

  Oh, boy, he thought, and his eyes turned to Steve.

  The Australian was completely relaxed, a half-smile already on his face. Once she arrived with their order, she remained silent for a few moments, as if evaluating the ones who had requested her presence. When she looked about to say something, Steve stood up, sporting a full smile, promptly paid, then introduced himself before the girl could walk away. ?Hi, I’m Steve! Sorry for to have you walking here?.

  She blinked, then stared at his outstretched hand in confusion. After a moment of hesitation, she relaxed her expression and gripped it. As Steve gave her some kind of showy bow, Alessandro was surprised to see the girl reciprocate with a sincere smile of her own and not just one of circumstance that women in her position often have to show. ?Hi Steve, I’m Náe?.

  ?Nat? Lovely name! Pleasure it is to meet you?.

  As the two began to talk, Náe already chuckling at Steve’s antics, Alessandro tuned out their conversation. He had just been reminded of Sofia, and his hand instinctively went to base of his neck, where he usually kept the medallion which she had given him on their first anniversary. Every time he went on a mission, he took it off and left it at headquarters, together with anything else that might expose his identity and affiliation, but he had never really given the action much thought. After all, he always put it back on whenever they came back. Right now, however, he was feeling that absence more than ever. He tried to distract himself, but his mind kept going back to his wife and children, refusing to wonder, and as time passed, the thought brought out nostalgia, longing, regret, sadness and a whole other slew of strong emotions that he had been trying to keep leashed ever since their operation had gone to hell.

  Stolen story; please report.

  His downward spiral of negativity was interrupted when he heard the girl utter a polite but firm “no”, to which Steve smiled and lowered his head, conceding defeat. Náe gave him an apologetic smile, took the empty tankards and walked away.

  ?Sad??

  Steve shook his head. ?Can’t say it doesn’t sting, it always does, but I can’t call myself an adult if I can’t accept a refusal?. He raised his tankard. ?Cheers, chief?.

  ?To maturity?, Alessandro replied, and took a draught. The taste was much closer to beer than the previous drink, though both were too warm for his taste. I guess chilled drinks in a pre-industrial society are wishful thinking, he pondered, as he found himself desiring a cold Belgian red.

  He watched as three city guards entered the tavern and proceeded to join the drinking table he and Steve had left earlier. From the greetings they were receiving, it looked like they were regulars. He told Steve. Then, as the new arrivals started playing the game, to the enthusiasm of the other patrons, he focused once again on enjoying his drink and trying to relax. Suddenly, a recent memory came to mind, and a grin appeared on his face.

  ?Hey, Steve, can I ask you a question??

  ?Sure, chief. Shoot?.

  ?So, last month Brad and I had a chance to speak with your ex-drill instructor?.

  Steve’s hand twitched. ?Uh, you mean Sergeant Harris?

  ?Yeah. Funny guy. Looked like someone who eats gravel for breakfast and drinks recruits’ tears before going to sleep?.

  ?That’s him, alright?.

  ?So, we were chatting after a briefing, and he told us a very interesting story about, you know, and we couldn’t help but notice some differences with what you’ve told us. According to him, the origin of your nickname has nothing to do with your passion for Crocodile Dundee, and I wanted to confirm this with you…?

  ?What do you mean? That’s the reason!? He was smiling, but you could see the uncertainty on his face.

  Alessandro smirked. ?Well, tell me, is it true that you and your platoon were crossing a river, during your training, and then you saw—?

  A sudden burst of loud cheers interrupted him. He turned his head towards the drinking table. One of the guards was putting the tankard face down and getting his share of betting money. Alessandro was about to resume his question, when he saw one of the other guys at that table talk to the guards, as he pointed at him and Steve. One guard stood up, grabbed their sword, still in its scabbard, and started to walk towards the two of them.

  He cursed. ?Possible trouble. One guard coming our way, my three o’clock?. Steve kept drinking but changed hand, his right going to rest on the hilt of his knife. As the guard came closer Alessandro noticed that she was, in fact, a woman, and despite the tension, he could not help but quip. ?Well, Steve, here’s a lady coming for you. You can try to hit on her, just remember that she’s armed?.

  ?And she has some nice muscles too, from what I can see?.

  ?I thought you were more into the “girl next door” kind?.

  ?Chief, I’m a lover. I like all types of women. Except for the crazy ones. Been there, done that, learned my lesson?.

  Alessandro could not help the chuckle that escaped him.

  While they spoke, the guard arrived and, without a word, pulled close a stool upon which she sat. She put down the sword and exchanged stares with them in silence for a good ten seconds. All of a sudden, she smirked and brought a fist to her chest in salute. ?Greetings. I’m Vígdís, daughter of Edda. They told me you’re good at drinking?. She pointed at Steve. ?I want a match?.

  Alessandro relaxed, glad the issue was so inane. However, Steve raised to the challenge, and he could not help but send him a look of exasperation.

  ?Sure, if you are buy the drinks. My name Steve is?.

  ?And I am Alessandro?.

  She clapped her hands. ?Great. Náe, hey, Náe?, she called. ?Bring us eight ?l!?

  As they waited for their drinks, Alessandro observed the woman sitting opposite to them, still grinning like a happy child. She was not conventionally attractive, but she possessed a sort of magnetic gaze and exuded confidence. Furthermore, her ever-present smile brought out her most striking feature: her freckles. An unusual trait, as far as he could tell. Like the other guards, she was wearing a simple, green gambeson, and the sight of it made him wonder why she had decided to join the military; from what little he had seen, it was not forbidden nor frowned upon, but it certainly was unusual. All in all, she appeared to be more wiry than bulky, at least compared to someone like Tár. Though the amazon seemed to be the exception, more than the norm.

  Meanwhile, Steve had managed to ask her what would be the prize. His language skills always seemed to be immaculate when speaking of such topics.

  ?If you win?, she replied ?you can skorae me to an armbaráttu match?.

  ?What??

  She mimed arm-wrestling, to the immediate understanding of the two operators.

  ?And if you beat me at that as well?, she continued, looking at Steve, ?you can bed me?.

  Alessandro raised an eyebrow.

  ?Yes, human, you heard right. Not a bad tillaga, huh??

  He did not understand if the woman was serious or joking, but one look at Steve told him he welcomed the challenge. Most likely not because of the “prize” – not only, at least – but simply because the Australian hated to lose.

  ?And if you win??

  ?You pay me ten fennigs for each match?, she replied.

  Shortly after, the waitress arrived with their drinks, and the duo began their match while Alessandro watched. Predictably, Steve won their small competition. After all, he had an unfair advantage. Vígdís, however, did not seem irritated or dejected; on the contrary, she looked excited, and that gave Alessandro pause. As she and Steve prepared to arm-wrestle, he could not help the feeling of discomfort that crept up his back.

  ?Steve, don’t underestimate her. She looks way too confident?.

  ?No drama, chief. I’ve got this?.

  ***

  As the last copper coin fell into Vígdís’ hand, Steve turned his flabbergasted face towards Alessandro, who clapped him on his back with a grin.

  ?You sure got it, Steve. Five out of five. Amazing! However, I have a question: do you have different rules in Australia for arm-wrestling? Is it a game to see who loses the most??

  ?Low blow, chief?.

  ?You lost almost all the money that we won earlier. You should’ve called it quits after the third loss, so don’t complain. Worry about what Jas and the others will do after I tell them about it?. This time he actually laughed.

  ?That’s evil. I thought you were better than this?. Having recovered from the unexpected defeat, Steve quickly went back to being his usual self; that is to say, merry and flirtatious. Vígdís seemed quite appreciative, and bought them another round.

  As the minutes passed by, Alessandro begin to recognise that feeling of being a third wheel, so he tried to distract himself by observing the people around them. Eiev?reur and his friend were gone, and a group of drunks was singing a slow, baritone song following the melody played by the bard, who was plucking at some kind of neckless guitar resting on his lap. It sounded melancholic, like a ballad, and despite the out of tune voices of the drunks, he still managed to make it sound pleasant by adding his own voice to the mix; a testament to his skill. Unfortunately, the lyrics and part of the melody were lost to the noise and chatter of the room. He kept scanned the room, and once again marvelled at the glowing stones on the walls, that he had mistaken for torches at first.

  Nothing of notice was happening, and Alessandro liked it that way. Soon, however, he felt the call of nature, so he excused himself – Steve giving him a nod – and went outside. The cold evening air woke him up from the slight torpor that staying in a closed room with heat, poor ventilation and lots of people and alcohol usually give you. He had drunk not nearly enough for his brain and reflexes to really be affected, but his bladder was another thing altogether. He walked into the small alley behind the tavern and relieved himself with satisfaction. As he tied his pants back, rightfully complaining about laces and the lack of zips, someone whispered directly to his left ear, and a shiver ran down his back as an oppressive sensation gripped him tight. He turned quickly, lashing out with his left hand, creating space, and in the same motion he unsheathed his knife, on guard, ready to fight.

  Nobody.

  There was only a dark alley scantily illuminated by the cold light of distant glowing stones.

  The oppressive feeling slowly receded, but the confusion and fear remained. The noise of steps made him turn to the left, and he saw two Okkars approaching, gait slightly unsteady. He could not see any visible weapon, but he knew that almost everyone in town walked around armed.

  As they came closer, they met his gaze, and Alessandro realised he still had his knife out. He sheathed it, but kept his hand on its handle. Moments passed in silence, but then the duo seemed to disregard him. With his left flank covered by the wall, he started to move out of the alleyway, walking towards the small square in front of the tavern. As he was about to cross the two men, he clenched his jaw and tensed instinctively, but tried to keep his hand and body as relaxed as possible.

  Nothing happened, and he heaved a sigh of relief. He kept walking, checking that no one was approaching from the back, and a few moments later understood that the two men had come to the back alley for his same reason. He approached the hand pump in the middle of the square and only then realised he was sweating. He used the pump to first wash his hands, and then to splash his face and neck, the cold water helping clear his mind.

  What the hell was that? It was like I was back in the forest.

  Looking up, the still-unfamiliar night sky greeted him. Uncountable stars framed the lone visible moon, the celestial body on its way to catch up to its sister and join her in the new moon phase. It was breathtaking. Yet, every passing moment that starred sky reminded him where he was, and that his family was literally on another planet.

  He lowered his gaze, bringing it back down to earth. As he approached the tavern’s entrance, he noticed a patrol walking by, and another on the other side of the square. He put them out of his mind and pushed the door open. He was once again greeted by heat, voices, plus the smell of food, alcohol, sweat and humanity. With confident steps he walked towards Steve, although in truth he felt tired, both mentally and physically.

  Perhaps that was why he got way too close before realising Vígdís was French-kissing him with passion. He had half a mind to interrupt them, but he hated when people did things like that.

  Soon enough they separated and, as he opened his eyes, Steve noticed him. ?Hey, chief. Welcome back! It took you so long I’d thought you’d gone for number two?.

  ?Well, it looks like you didn’t miss me?, Alessandro replied. Then he started searching his pockets. ?I’m going back to our quarters. Don’t worry about Brad, I’ll tell him you’ll be back by Zero Nine Hundred hours?. He pulled out a condom, which he handed to Steve.

  ?Ugh, so early… Copy that?. He took the contraceptive. ?Is it the same one you showed us in the forest? Do you always carry it around, chief??

  ?No, I don’t. I just had a hunch that some safety gear would be needed tonight. I only have this, so use it wisely?.

  Steve observed it, turning it around.

  ?What’re you doing??

  ?Checking if it’s expired?.

  ?Fuck you, man?, he replied with a chuckle. ?I only keep good ones, but I can poke a few holes in it, if you prefer?.

  ?No, thanks, chief. I don’t want to make anyone pregnant yet, and I surely don’t want any alien STD?, Steve Replied, and quickly put the lone contraceptive in his pocket.

  Alessandro bid them farewell and exited the building. He shivered as the cool evening air blew at him, and wrapped his cloak tighter around himself. Then, he began the walk back towards their quarters. After passing a corner, he stopped and hugged the wall, peeking over the corner at the tavern’s entrance. Five minute later, Vígdís and Steve came out of the same door, each with a hand on the other’s hip. They were both giddy but did not look overly inebriated.

  They set off at a slow walk, and Alessandro followed them, careful not to be seen. They arrived soon at a two-story building, almost identical to many others in the surroundings, and the horny couple wasted no time in going inside of what he concluded was her place. He waited, observing the building and its surroundings for any ambush or threat. Ten minutes later, having ascertained that Cooper would be safe, he turned and began his trek back at a brisk pace.

  Well, he’s as safe as any of us, I’d say. He should enjoy himself, make some good memories. His hand went to his neck, where his necklace would normally be, the thought of his wife and children weighting on his mind.

  ***

  ?… but I won’t be doing this at regular intervals. Just when I have time and if something peculiar happens?.

  As he opened the door to their “apartment”, Alessandro found Bradley seated at the small table – their only table – talking to his helmet. His pistol and M4 were in front of him, disassembled, and a rag rested close to them. ?Are you recording your captain’s log, Brad?? He asked, his tone serious. ?Shall I call you “Picard” from now on??

  Bradley looked at him, silent.

  ?Too French?? He continued, without missing a beat. ?“Kirk” then. He’s American, after all? His serious fa?ade started to fall off as he poked fun at his friend.

  ?Wow, Al, I’m astonished by your fine sense of humor. I’ve never heard that joke before?, Brad replied, rolling his eyes for good measure.

  ?Careful man, too much sarcasm is bad for your health?, Alessandro quipped, before walking closer and taking a seat near the hearth. ?Steve is having fun with a lady friend we met at the tavern. He’s… well, he’s having space sex with an alien babe… so he is Captain Kirk?. He started to laugh.

  Bradley closed his eyes and sighed, shaking his head. ?Stop laughing at your own jokes, man. That stupid grin of yours is irritating?.

  ?Yeah, I’m trying, but you have to admit it’s quite funny if you think about it this way. Man, I have to tell the others tomorrow. Steve will be delighted!?

  Bradley looked at him.

  ?Come on, don’t be like that. Where’s your usual poker face? Anyway, I followed them to know where they went and to make sure he’d be okay, don’t worry?. Alessandro took out his concealed Beretta, removed the magazine and the bullet in the chamber.

  ?He won’t do anything stupid?, Bradley simply said. It was a statement filled with confidence.

  Alessandro nodded in agreement.

  ?What about your report??

  ?I don’t need Steve for that?.

  Bradley picked up the pistol’s barrel and looked through it, then he started to put his Glock 19 back together. ?Okay. What have you found??

  ?Don’t forget the firing pin?.

  Brad gave him the side-eye.

  Alessandro raised his hands, palms out. ?Aye, aye, capt’n. We’ve finished checking all of the external walls. Nothing really out of the ordinary. For a medieval town, that is. The military presence is quite high, we saw patrols at almost every corner, even late during the day. Sure, we were told that, but seeing it is different. The inner walls only have one gate, always closed and with constant surveillance by fifteen guards. The walls themselves are manned by two guards every thirty or so metres. The one thing that’s out of place is a field with crops?

  ?Inside the town? Aren’t the farms on the other side of the river??

  ?Yes, but this one is in the outer part of town, very close to the inner walls. Not too big. I’d say one hectare, more or less. It’s fenced and irrigated by a single canal. We counted twelve soldiers guarding the field, plus four for the canal; two for each end of it?

  ?Anything else??

  ?Yeah, we followed the canal to the river and we saw four guards there. Same thing on the other end?.

  ?So many soldiers for one crop field seems strange. Any idea why??

  ?Negative. We couldn’t even approach the locals about it, they are diffident and we don’t blend in. It could be a field for growing specific crops for the nobles, or maybe some emergency measure, I don’t know. We should ask our friends tomorrow. Oh, about that… old man Ed was at the tavern, talking with another old guy, a local for quite some time. Just thought you should know.

  ?Copy that. Anything else??

  Alessandro took a deep breath. ?Earlier I went out of the tavern, you know, to take a leak, and… and I heard the whispers again?

  That drew Bradley’s full attention. ?How’s that possible? They told us it was because of the forest. We all felt our mind clear when we walked out of it?.

  ?I don’t know, Brad. I can tell you this time it felt different. The whispers were much weaker and as subtle as a grenade. They also lasted only a moment, disappearing when I noticed them?.

  ?Hell, I thought we’d solved at least one problem. Tell Elisa tomorrow and let me and her know if it happens again?.

  ?Roger that?.

  There was a lull in the conversation, where Bradley continued with his work – he had passed on to reassemble his M4 – and Alessandro reflected about the day’s events, especially the whispers. A few minutes later, he leaned onward, elbows on the table, and spoke. ?How’re you doing, Brad? And I mean how you’re really doing. Don’t you dare tell me you’re fine?.

  Bradley did not reply immediately. He finished his work and put his weapon away, then closed his eyes and sighed deeply. When he reopened them, his shoulders sagged, and he grimaced. ?It’s bad. It’s… really bad. I keep it together because there’s no point in losing my shit, it would help nobody. Also, you lot would be lost without me—?

  ?Nah, don’t worry, I can take charge. No big deal. You can despair over there in the corner?.

  ?Jackass?.

  ?For you, always?.

  Bradley went quiet, his smile faltering. ?There are moments… yes, there are moments when I just want to scream, break stuff and punch someone, you know what I mean??

  ?Yeah?.

  ?Then, sometimes I-I just feel like crying. Sometimes I do?. He sighed. ?I’m afraid, Al. I fear I’ll never see my girls ever again. It’s not like it’s a novelty; given the job we do, it’s always been a risk. This time though… this time it’s different?.

  Alessandro took out his pistol and the temporary holster he had MacGyvered with scraps he had found. He removed the magazine and the round in the chamber, then, put them all aside on the table and sat down, the amused smirk now a brotherly smile. ?Let’s chat a bit, shall we??

  Bradley leaned back on his chair and answered with a nod and a small smile of his own. It was tinged with sadness and longing, but it was a smile nonetheless.