Shining Example (WORM ORIGIN QUEST)

"Is Dad ok?"

Clint's smile breaks, and yours feels a lot heavier. He leans back in his chair and his hand inches towards one of the drying shot glasses. He doesn't hide it, Clint shakes his head and lets out a laugh. It's forced, and it looks almost painful to put out. "Dad's fine, so long as he's taking his medicine."

He all but spits out the words. The room suddenly feels ten degrees colder, but you try to remain calm. You look at Clint questioningly "Clint, what happened to dad?"

Clint taps his hand on the counter again, looking at you with a downcast expression. He's thinking of the best way to tell it to you, lessening the blow for your sake. If he wasn't, he would have already told you. It would be a waste of his time to dance around the subject.

"He's clinically depressed, an alcoholic, and nearly running his newly acquired business into the ground without a second thought." Clint response. "The only reason he hasn't as of yet is due to Danah and my intervention. As of right now, he's most likely in his room trying to sleep off a hangover. Danah will visit him once she gets off school, but I haven't talked to him since I sent him to his hospital in New York with Danah.

You stare at him, the message putting you into the ground. You feel yourself slump into your chair. Dad… he was so close to stopping the last time you talked to him. He told you, he promised you that he was finally at the finish line.

"I'm putting the bottle away, I promise."

Those were his exact words. Now, they feel a empty.

"You're wasting your time if you blame yourself." Clint says, breaking you out of your thoughts "I was the one who delivered the medical diagnosis. If anyone is to be blamed, it should be placed on me and me alone."

"Gee, thanks Clint," You say dully

"There's nothing you or I can do except be there for him. We can't change his choices, we have to respect them. You can't change a man's mind without force. And force only leads to horrid outcomes."

"I remember you telling me that when me and Danah were younger," you say. "Something about respecting choices."

Clint's eyes sparkle with something akin to pride, "It was the one lesson that I don't remember having to say twice."

"It stuck," you admit.

"I would hope so. Nevertheless, we shouldn't be speaking about father. While our right, it's disrespectful to him and what he's done for us."

He leans forward, and puts a hand on your shoulder smiling as warmly as he could. It seems off, but he's making it work. "But enough of father's… mishaps. The real matter is you. When did you wake up?"

"A few days ago." You answer.

Clint stares at you with wide eyes, seemingly awestruck by your very existence "Incredible. There hasn't been a single recorded survivor of stage four renal cell carcinoma. It's… it's..."

"A miracle?" you offer.

Clint stares at you agast. Slowly, a deep rumble escapes him and it escalates to a hollow laugh. It sounds like a goose trying to honk and get more air, and to this day it's never failed to make you laugh as well. You don't bother holding anything back, showing him that you were really here. It was ugly laughter, the kind that most people never really feel in their life. It hurts, but you don't remember feeling this good in a long time. For the first time in four months, you're laughing your heart out with your brother. He has to hold onto his sides as he leans back and stares at the ceiling in fiend horror "What is this world coming to? Little Alex finishing my sentences."

"Clearly the end of the world is nigh! There's nothing you can do about it, sorry to tell you." You joke.

Clint has the heart to chuckle at your attempt at humor. He leans up and stares at you, studying every inch of you. Slowly his gaze turns from hopeful, to concern. His arms cross over one another as he waits for something. "Is there something you're forgetting to tell me?"

You feel your smile whip off your face as confusion takes hold. "What do you mean?"

"Alex," Clint starts, his voice level and his tone perfectly still. It's enough to send a shiver down your back. "I'm happy, beyond words that you're here with me. But don't for a second, think that it's blinded me from asking the right questions."

"Like?" you ask nervously.

Clint shoots you a look that only conveys disappointment. "Like how you managed to survive. There's no treatment for what you had, and no recorded case of anyone living more than a month at the stage you were in. In addition, you have a full head of hair, your muscle mass is at optimal conditions despite you being six pounds away from critical anemia. If you just woke up, there's no way that you were able to maintain your muscle mass with the instruments available in today's market. And ...I stopped believing in miracles when Robin walked away from us with a smile on her face."

His expression doesn't change. Despite laying fact after fact, he's still smiling supportively "I know you're not addicted. None of your behavioral patterns have changed, your eyesight is as focused as ever so there's no lingering effects. It's possible, that they could have done something else to you, but I know my little brother wouldn't take something without asking what it will do to him first." Clint's expression stays the same, but you see his fingers grasping together to tightly that the knuckles go white. "Sorry, but I don't want any secrets in this family. Not anymore."

You freeze in your seat, and your hand feels far heavier than it should be. You don't move, you can barely breathe. A minute, it took him a minute. It shouldn't be too surprising. It's Clint. If he wanted to, he could tell you what you're thinking before you're thinking it. You've never been able to keep a secret from him, and you don't know what worries you the most. That he might hate you for hiding it, or why you didn't just outright tell him.

No matter what you say, he's probably not going to believe you without a demonstration. If you do that… what happens to Rebecca? You teleported home, without going to Contessa, Doctor Mother or Manton. What if there were rules against telling people about your powers? There might be nothing, but if there was, Rebecca was going to take the blame.

You won't let her take it. It's going to be you and you alone that messes up. If you can help it, there won't be a single blemish on her record. She deserves nothing less, for everything she's done for you.

But Clint deserves the truth. The thing's he's done, the life he had to lose to keep you and Danah moving forward. You can make a small start, but the debt will never be repaid.

Doctor Mother and Contessa are probably going to be pissed, but this is worth it. Why be a hero if you have nothing worth protecting.

"I…" a chuckle breaks out of you, nervousness slowing you down "you wouldn't believe me."

Clint shakes his head and flashes a confident smirk "Try me," he challenges.

The infectious nature of the smile worms it's way into you, and as it comes full circle you raise a hand. Focusing, the waves shine into existence. You reach forward, and as your hand glows that familiar golden color, you force your will over the table behind Clint. You only add a few waves under it, letting it equal the power of the waves above. As it floats towards the two of you, you barely notice Clint gripping the wood of his chair. You bring the table over and freeze it in the air for both of you to see.

Clint's eyes widen ever so slightly. With one hand he grips his chair with the other he taps against the bar counter. He opens his mouth and raises a hand, but closes his mouth soon after. Slowly, he tears his eyes away from the table and back to you. You nod "If I told you I had superpowers, you wouldn't have believed me."

He raises his hand again. "Several comments," he says, his voice wavering for a moment as several beads of sweat make it down his neck. You nod as he lifts a finger "First, please put the table down before someone walks by sees a floating table."

Oh, right. That would be weird. You glance back at the table and wave your hand. It floats back to it's position and slides down back into place.

"Thank you, second… I would've been sceptical, but it wasn't out of the realm of possibility for you to have superpowers."

You blink. Not out of the realm of possibility? When did Clint, the man who questioned everything he saw on principal, believed that?

"You?" you ask "You believe in superpowers?"

Clint shrugs, his demeanor returning to it's calm norm for a second "When you see a man create and throw streams of fire from his hands, someone else run through walls without touching them, you start believing in strange things."

"There are others?" You ask.

Clint nods "Three in LA from what I've witnessed."

"They haven't tried to hurt you have they?"

Clint shakes his head "They were too busy trying to inspire or trying to run for their lives to see me."

He sees your confused expression and shrugs "About a month after you went with Doctor Mother for your coma treatment, reporters started...seeing things, for lack of a better term, a black blur. No pictures, and no evidence of movement technology from what scientist have been able to gather. Whenever this blur arrives, one of the more interesting members of the neighborhood suddenly don't hurt anyone anymore."

He pauses, it's slight, but you catch him casting a glance out the window to the street corner.

"But, it gave me all the reason I need to start believing that people are capable of amazing things. And now, you can apparently control gravity?"

You nod "Right on the money."

"Oh boy," he breathes.

Clint runs a hand through his hair as you awkwardly shuffle on your seat. Silence overtakes the room for a minute, then two. Eventually, Clint clicks his tongue and leans forward. "Correct me if I'm wrong," he starts, "you were visited by Doctor Mother, she cured your cancer, and as a side effect you gained the ability to control one of the fundamental forces of the universe?"

"That's the gist of it, yeah," you admit.

He slowly nods. "Are there others like you?"

You nod. "Five, from what I know."

Another nod from Clint. "So… do they… train you?" he asks.

"Yep," you smile, but it turns sour as the memory of David comes back, "some of them need a little attitude adjustment." You throw the thought aside. David was just one of them. Matthew, Contessa, and especially Rebecca, they only want to help. They've been nothing but kind, no need to paint all of them with one bad experience. "But they've helped make sense of," you hold up your hand, "this."

Clint says nothing, taking in each word and considering them all like he always does. A minute of silence passes as you wait for Clint's response. Your foot tap against the floor, and your hands wrestle with one another. After what feels like an eternity, Clint pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Final question, Alex. What are you and the… others, going to do with your gifts?"

You break out into the widest smile your face can manage. This is it, the time you get to show him what you're capable of. Lifting up your hand you focus and allow it to glow without grasping hold of any waves. "We're going to be saving the world."

Clint doesn't move, waiting for you to elaborate.

"We… all of us who have these gifts, they have a choice. We can use them to help people, or help ourselves. Everyone I know, is going to be helping people. We're going to use our gifts to help and save anyone we can however we can. We'll stop wars, keep buildings from coming tumbling down, save hundreds if not thousands of lives! We're going to be her-"

"What you're going to be, is dead."

The utter venom of the statement stops you in your tracks, sucking the bravado out of your statement. It sends a shiver down your back when you see the piercing disappointment in Clint's eyes.

"Save the world? Alex, these are superpowers given to ordinary people. There is no scientific reasoning to say they could be naturally occurring. But even if we take a second to imagine if it could, even if yours were artificial, it took living through three months of cancer to gain them. Imagine, for a second, how they might naturally occur?"

"They could be painless," you say, but your argument only earns a humorless laugh.

"Alex, evolution does not occur to those who are comfortable or are at the top of their respective food chain. It comes to those who have to bite, break, and sacrifice just to survive every single day. Those people, do not want to use their powers to help people. They only want to help themselves."

"Not everyone is going to be like that."

"I'm being realistic."

"Sounds pessimistic to me! Do you care if I used these powers to help people?!"

Clint shakes his head "Not at all. You have restraint, and sound judgement. If anything, you'll go out of your way to help everyone you can, just like you said."

"Then why aren't you giving everyone else a chance?" You demand.

The question forces Clint to slam his hand against the bar counter, making the glasses rattle in place and you to jump in your seat. He points a shaking finger at you "You are a good man Alex! But that does not mean that everyone else in the world is going to share your values! Do NOT fool yourself in believing the world will be kind to you!"

"Then I'll help them!" You scream.

"How?!"

You throw your hands into the air, "I have no idea how, but at least I'm willing to try!"

Clint shoots to his feet. "And as you're trying to be nice to the world, the people who don't want to be helped are going to find some way to take off your head! You won't last a year if you're not careful!"

"I will be then!" you counter, rising to your feet as well. All around you, the chairs and tables begin to rumble as you latch on to the waves without meaning to. "I'm not going to be alone, I have people like Rebecca-."

"Wait, Rebecca has powers now?" Clint asks, his anger fading for a second to make way for confusion. It doesn't last long. "It doesn't matter. You might have each others backs, but no one is going to be invincible. Both of you will end up dead, or worse if you do this!"

You run both your hands over your face, trying your hardest to hold in your frustration "I don't care what happens to me, Clint! This is the one chance in my life to show the world that Danah and I aren't drunken mistakes! My one gift that I've gotten in my life that makes me special. Why do you want to take this away from me!?"

"I DON'T WANT TO LOSE MY FAMILY AGAIN!!"

Like a switch, the room drops into dead silence. No one speaks, nothing moves. The frustration that lead to your anger leaves you as quickly as it comes. You stand there, wide eyed and confused as your brother tries and fails to hold back tears. He sinks into his chair, his energy utterly spent. His eyes only stare at the floor as thick droplets of water slide down his face. You reach down, but Clint shrugs away from your touch.

"People, they called me a genius. The next Einstein, the man who will bring science to a new age." Gone is the layered tone of the man you knew. In its place, the sad cracking speech of a defeated man. He laughs, but there's no levity in the action. "A fucking fat lotta good that did as I watched my little brother slowly die. As I watched my father try to kill himself and all I could do is ship him off to a therapist. I could recite all the scientific knowledge in the world, but it couldn't do a thing to help either of you."

His arm limply reaches out and grabs hold of your hand. His knuckles go white, and if it weren't for the waves, your hand would be screaming. You see his jaw tremble as it tries to force out the words through the red pain forming in his eyes "I can't stop you… you can help whenever you want. Alex, you're not Atlas, you can't hold the world on your shoulders. It will crush you, it will drag you down until you're nothing left but a man who realized he never did anything right."

He doesn't meet your gaze, you don't think he has the strength to anymore. "I don't want you to experience the hell I went through."

You force back a sob. This… this is really Clint isn't it? The man who could do anything. The brother that always had your back. The man who you wanted to be, was hurting like this.

And you never knew.

You force a smile on your face and lean down to look into his eyes even if he doesn't want to. He doesn't do a thing to stop you, if anything he only looks more ashamed. It takes everything you have to keep the smile on your face.

"You're right, I'm not a hero," you admit, "but I can be, along with anyone else who tries."

Clint barks out a painful laugh. "How can you say something that contrived? After Dad, Mom, cancer, how?"

You force back a lump in your throat "Because even a "do nothing" like me can be a hero if they choose to be. Even a teenager, who's willing to stay up all night to help his little brother learn math even though he had to keep up his grades. Who dropped an interview to help his little sister realize her dream of making real music. And who wouldn't hesitate to help his father when he couldn't help himself."

Clint stares at you, frozen in his seat. Slowly, he starts to shake as even more tears begin to flow. He puts up a hand to hold back a sniveling cry, but they can't be stopped. He falls off of his chair to wrap his arms around you for the second time tonight. For the first time in your life, you're the one who helps him to the floor as he cries into your shoulder. For the first time, you're helping him stay straight and strong. He hugs you as tight as he can, and you return everything he gives with a little more.

"B-be smart," he forces out.

"Just like you taught me."

"Listen to Rebecca, she always did have a sharp head on her shoulders."

You smile at that. "I trust her with my life."

You feel him nod. "That's good."

You hold onto him for another minute, before slowly letting go. Clint is reluctant, but he concedes in time. He wipes tears from his eyes and tries to smile. It's shaky, but it's there. He's scared, but you've never seen him so proud in your life. "You… you better get going."

"I can help here if you need." You start, but Clint stops you with a shake of his head.

"You've helped me more than you can ever realize. You've saved your first helpless victim, now go train, get better, stronger, so you can save all of them."

You feel your eyes water and you shakily nod your head. To that, Clint only hugs you again. "Come home safely, whenever you can. I love you little brother."

"I love you big brother."

He lets you go, and the two of you rise as one. You take a step towards the door, and Clint to his mop bucket. Your steps echo, each one of them piercing your hearing and making the next all the harder to take. You reach for the door, push it open. It feels both heavier and lighter than it should be. You step through, and the cold night air hits you. It makes you release a breath you didn't know you were holding. The second you let it out, your shoulders feel lighter. It feels fantastic.

You search the street for Rebecca, and find her sitting on the bench like she was when she let you in. She's staring at a stranger as he walks away, but that doesn't matter. You walk up to the bench. "Rebecca."

Your best friend jumps slightly from the surprise and stays there for a second before realizing it's you. She floats to the ground and smiles, but it turns to concern when she notices that you've been crying.

"Is everything alright?"

You look back to the bar, and it feels good to leave it behind. "Yeah, everything's perfect. Thank you."

She flashes a soft, warm smile that makes you shuffle your feet. "Anything for what you've done for me."

[] Head back into the bar, with Rebecca. Clint might send you away, but you're not done helping him. You and Rebecca can go in, and help him through the work he's placed on himself.
[] Head back to Cauldron. You've been gone long enough, best get back before you get in anymore trouble with Contessa.
[] Ask Rebecca if it's ok to walk through the city. After all that emotion, you need one last look at what you're going to be protecting.

Quiet streets, quiet night, quiet city. The first time that Rebecca had earned her first stakeout mission with Contessa, it didn't take long for the first lesson to sink in. It's not the mission that's the hard part, it's waiting for it to start that will kill you.

The waiting, sitting around, doing nothing, literally allowing fate to set the scene for you. All the while, you can't do a thing.

It was for a good cause, but that didn't make the waiting any less boring. She knew it would be a long conversation, any family member separated from one another for an extended period of time would make sure to spend an adequate amount of time just to convince themselves that it was actually happening.

Knowing Clint, he probably would ask any number of questions.

It would take an hour, at the very least, for everything to be done.

Which was fine. They would spend the time laughing, crying, being brothers. It's exactly what Alex needed. It would be an interesting conversation, when the two of them got back, but that didn't matter.

He visited, every day. He never stopped. Letting him see his family again sooner than expected was one way she could start paying him back.

So, come what may, this trip was the right choice.

"Cold night, isn't it?"

Rebecca jumps a little in surprise. Not because of the sudden voice cutting through her thoughts, but more because she hadn't heard anyone walk up on her. People didn't get the drop on her, not anymore.

Her hand starts to curl into a fist on reflex, and carefully, she slowly turns towards the owner of the voice. Whatever she was expecting, the man standing aside the bench, one hand in his pocket and an almost mischievous smile in place, wasn't quite it.

"Still, it's rather heartwarming to see someone willing to wait for their boyfriend in such conditions," the man says, violet eyes glinting even despite the dim light, "I would say I'm surprised, but you do seem to give off that kind of warm presence."

Rebecca felt her jaw drop. Her mouth moves, but the only thing that comes out is a gibbering mess of syllables. She forces her jaw shut, and tries to get her thoughts in order as she studies him a little more closely. A nice suit, definitely custom-made, but the way he wore it was just a little too casual for the money it must have cost. There was a very obvious bump in his breast pocket, but it wasn't big enough to be a gun. Even as time starts to drag on, the man's smile doesn't really waver; if anything, it starts to get a little amused.

On the subject of his comment, there was no need to react like that. It was just layover surprise from his ability to sneak past her senses. The comment was made in friendly conversation, nothing more. If anything, the intended effect could have been just the reaction that it could have caused. A bit of a joker perhaps, but hides it behind professionalism and kindness. Not a single hint of malice.

"I will admit, it's not that often that I get to talk to another special one. You're changing the answers about every few seconds, you know?"

Rebecca's second fist curls, who was he? He's smart, observant, but he doesn't want to do anything harmful. His visit, his speech, even his posture point towards curiosity. But, there had to be purpose. His clothes are wrinkled slightly, and unwashed as of two days. His accent is curious; a mixture of Eastern European, American and British English. A traveler, hearing so many different forms of speech he forgot his native tongue. If so, why here? Alex? Her? No, how would he know to meet them here?

She felt a small shiver run down her back. A precog? If so… there was no need to be subtle.

"Precognition is a bit of a strong word for it," the man interrupts her thoughts, still smiling.

"Then what else should I call the facts? No normal man could know I was here, and who I am. But here you are. So, I'll ask this once, why are you here?" she asks.

She made a point to grip the railing of the bench, slowly bending the metal. He taps the tip of his shoe against the pavement, looking somewhat pleased with himself.

"I thought it prudent to make my introductions to the future Alexandria, before she becomes too famous and I'd be forced to make an appointment. I'm afraid I wouldn't do well with your organization, there's far too much red tape."

The metal of the bench screamed. Alexandria, that was going to be her name. A homage to the lost city, its great library of knowledge.

And a reminder, of the first real… friend she had.

She had never told a soul, yet he knew. The evidence of another honest to god precog standing in front of her continued to pile up.

Yet, she had to be sure.

"How do you know that name?"

Violet eyes glint against the dark city backdrop.

"I asked."

"And you just happened to get an answer?"

He nods a little at that, smile shifting down into something that could only be called businesslike.

"Indeed, although I should admit there were more questions to ask to get that name than just one. I learned a lot of things along the way; such as the fact that you're one of the few people in this world willing to stick by what they believe is good. Or the fact that you have a very bright future, alongside the people you care about."

And just like that, his smile curls into something genuine.

"Or the fact that you felt obligated to visit your boyfriend's bed every day even when they told you that you shouldn't. If I wasn't already trying to do what I think is good in this world, that very well may have convinced me that I should."

He's not lying, he's not trying to make any assumptions. He was stating fact, just because he could so that he could see her reaction. It made Rebecca blink. A precog, one good enough to know her inner thoughts, is standing in front of her and all he wants to do is make casual conversation?

That… doesn't make sense.

"Why do you think he's my boyfriend?"

Rebecca felt her face pale, and the need to go to the other end of the bench felt very prevalent at that moment. She… she just asked that. No, it was just a joke for a reaction. Nothing more. He wouldn't think anything of it. For some strange reason, her heart almost sank when he raised up an eyebrow.

"So you aren't dating yet? My mistake, I must have gotten the dates mixed up. Perhaps in a month or two… Definitely a year."

"Wait we will?"

"Well…" the man trails off, smile moving right into a knowing smirk, "Is that the question you want to ask of me? Normally I would charge for this kind of service, but I can think of something much better."

"C-can we change the subject first?"

His eyebrow raises up a little more, her heart sinking with it.

"Well, I suppose we could discuss the payment first, that would likely be the proper way to go about this."

Wait, payment?

"I didn't agree to any service."

Across from her, the man lets out a little 'ah' of disappointment, eyebrow moving down as his eyes close for a brief moment.

"That's quite a shame, considering your payment was just to keep our little rendezvous between us. If not, though, I'm afraid I can't even do something as simple as to give you my name. That would be a question, after all."

Rebecca lets out an "ah" of disappointment of her own, but next to his, it wasn't extreme.

"You know so much about me, a bit rude not to even the scales."

His eyes open, revealing deep violet once more.

"I suppose it would be. Normally I would give my title, but for you… My name is Roland King. It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Costa-Brown. Or would you prefer Miss Costa, now?"

"I would prefer that you stop knowing so much about me," she says, "but precogs can't help what they know, and I can't help wondering why you would want to get to know me before I made a name. You're not the only one I know who plays the long game."

Roland's eyes actually seem to flash, but it must just be a reflection of a streetlight catching at an odd angle.

"I wouldn't say that's quite true; there may be others that play the long game, but I play the longest game."

"I have a friend who would disagree with you."

He slips his other hand into his hip pocket, smile returning to that brief hint of genuineness.

"While that may be so, it can't hurt to have someone else along for the ride, no? We're all passengers on this little ship we call 'life,' and I would be far more interested in seeing us all make it through that trip without hitting something on the way."

Rebecca waited a second, studying every part of Roland that she could. There had to be something, anything that would give any indication of an ulterior motive. But, there's nothing. No twitch, no nervous shuffle. He… truly wants to help.

Just like Alex.

Rather out of the blue, a draft comes down the street. For what's perhaps the first time, the shiver he suddenly has doesn't seem planned in the slightest. While Rebecca blinks in surprise, he sidles forward a bit and takes a seat on the bench, putting her between him and the oncoming wind. Rebecca found herself moving to the side, giving him as much room as needed.

Again, there was no ulterior motive to this. He wanted to sit down, but it wasn't that cold. Low body temperature due to… less than desirable amounts of body fat and muscle. No need to judge, but it did feel weird. Like sitting next to David, except on some level she actually enjoyed this conversation.

"My initial assessment was correct, I think," Roland speaks up, looking far happier now, "You do have quite the warm presence."

"... th-thank you?"

Rebecca tries to move further away, but the bench was only so big. He chuckles quietly to himself, but it's hard to tell if it's at her attempts to escape or what exactly she'd said.

"Really, I should be the one thanking you. Most times everyone is so caught up with who I am that they don't have any real interest in figuring out what I am, so to speak. It's refreshing."

Everyone, multiple subjects and interactions? It would explain the lack of weight on him. Someone so focused on the meeting wouldn't care for the mundane details of everyday life.

"So you just walk up to everyone thinking of making a name for themselves and offer them a deal?"

Next to her, Roland taps a finger to his cheek, as if in thought.

"Sometimes. Sometimes I offer deals to those who weren't interested at all, but had the potential to make great changes to the world."

His smile rises up a bit.

"I've also saved those that otherwise would have fallen to cruel fates. Usually in ways that won't have them feel indebted to me, I should add. Loyalty like that is dangerous, and tends to corrupt. Far better that people make their own choices, I feel."

"You chose to do this, and you didn't do it just for the reward?"

"My reward came at the start of the journey," he replies simply, "I'm taking advantage of that by doing what I feel is right. If that helps others, then all the better."

Pure honesty. Everything pointed to that one conclusion. It was difficult to see, much less believe, but here it was. Rebecca shifted into a more comfortable position on the bench.

"So… your service."

Roland looks over to her, smile curving back into that initial mischievousness from when she'd first seen him.

"My services… Well, to put it simply, you may ask me questions. Questions small, questions large. If it's not something I feel I need to keep to myself for obvious reasons, I'll answer you honestly. Normally I would require a substantial monetary advance just to give that explanation, but I've enjoyed myself enough tonight that I'll waive that. Then there would be an individual price depending on the question…"

His eyes glint yet again.

"But as I said, my cost is only that you keep our little meeting a secret."

After a few moments, he pulls his other hand free from his pocket, and extends it out towards her.

"Do we have a deal?"

No, that would be the sensible answer. Contessa laid direct objectives to follow. Don't reveal Cauldron, its members, or inner workings. Report all unknown variables. A precog is the perfect unknown variable. On the other hand, it was also the perfect advantage. Contessa alone could shift the course of the world. To be in contact with another like her… the risk is great, but calculated so long as she told Contessa the second she returned to base.

In the end, there was only one conclusion that allowed for the greatest potential for success.

"I can't tell anyone?" she asks.

His hand doesn't waver, even with how long it's been hovering there by this point.

"I would add on that you also couldn't write it down on a piece of paper for someone to read, or anything similar, but that would be a little unnecessary a tag-on. As rare as it is for me, I'd like to believe that I can trust you to hold up your end of this arrangement."

She drums her fingers on the bench before taking the offered hand in her own. Just like she practiced, simple, slow, easy motions. Anything more would hurt him.

"Deal," she answers.

The mischievousness in his face depletes into an almost relief as she shakes his hand, and she can't help but note that the way he grips it is strangely easy. As though he knows exactly how to make it easiest on her to use that practiced motion she'd learnt.

Precogs are terrifying.

"I'm glad we could come to a deal," Roland states happily, before dropping her hand from his and actually standing up, "Though I'm afraid we'll have to leave it at that for tonight. I'll be sure to contact you soon, but as your boyfriend is on his way back I wouldn't exactly want to give him the wrong impression, now would I?"

Rebecca's hand freezes in place, and she started saying incoherent syllables again. This time, she managed something intelligible.

"I thought you said it wasn't time yet?"

...not her best response.

Roland gives her a sidelong look and opens his mouth, and then a surprisingly deep expression paints over his features.

"Well, it might never be the time if Alex lets himself get caught up in a sandstorm without protection."

He looks a little perplexed for the briefest of moments before his face smooths back over into a light smile.

"Well, I'm sure things will turn out fine, but be sure to keep it in mind, won't you? The world would be a much better place if your… future boyfriend stayed alive."

"Ahhh….."

The one part of Rebecca's brain in charge of formulating intelligent responses decided enough was enough for the night. So it allowed her jaw to hang open and a single syllable to play itself until she ran out of breath. Roland just gives her one last smirk before slipping both hands into his pockets, taking just one step.

"Ah, for the record? Your boyfriend's here."

And then he starts walking.

---