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“I don’t like this place, Vesper,” Finch muttered as he stepped off the Sour Cherry’s ramp. “It’s smells like bad oil and desperation,”

Vesper didn’t answer the short man. His green eyes swept across the crowd before them as the rain started to come down. The smell of petrichor and heady tropical green things had already perfumed the air. Now, heavy rain drops began falling down. They reflected the neon signs and flickering dirty lights of the city in front of them. They fell on the patched cargo ship behind them with fat hissing drops as it settled with groan onto its springs and landing gear.

Finch grimaced as a raindrop landed on his round nose, although he was more perturbed at his friend’s silence than the precipitation. He rubbed at his nose before jerking a thumb at the Sour Cherry behind them, “See, she agrees with me,”

But all Finch got was silence as Vesper seemed to peer between the raindrops and over the meandering crowd like he was searching for something. The rain came harder, more insistent, and the crowd began to disperse, seeking shelter.

Finch sighed and pulled his collar up against the wetness, “Vesper…I know we ain’t here sight seeing,”

Then the tall man’s eyes landed on something as a slender gold hand landed on Finch’s shoulder, “There,” he said in a breath, nodding towards the mouth of an alley.

There stood a noodle cart. The awning had been pulled down to offer a couple people on stools and the cook some shelter from the rain. There was a line of a couple ragged indivuals but Finch knew who his friend meant.

At the end of the line was a woman, her hair close cut and her clothes grimy as the rest, except she wore armor and even at this distance, even with the coating of mud and filth that covered the porcelain plates, it was clear the wearer belong to the Cosmic Church.

And not just the softer Halo planets that still spoke of love and music.

No.

This was armor straight from the holy heart of Polaris herself.

Finch found himself suddenly itching to slide away, but Vesper’s hand held him to the spot.

“You can”t be serious…” Finch hissed, but Vesper’s eyes were still locked on the young woman.

“Come on, before we lose her,” Vesper said softly and then with a deer like step, the golden man was walking away.

Finch stood dumbfounded for a moment when the Sour Cherry gave a complaining hiss and the pilot looked back at his shop with a grimace.

“Yeah. I can’t believe it either. He’s an idiot,” he groaned before hurrying after Vesper.

•••

“The usual?” The Noodle vendor’s voice was warm and carried over the din of the pattering rain that drummed on the oiled canvas over their heads.

The woman shook her head as she pushed a few coins in her head, “Not quite…I’m a little light. Few jobs didn’t turn out,”

The Noodle Vendor huffed as he dipped a ladle into the large silver pot, “It’s the rainy season,” he said, jerking his chin out to weather. “People come here for the promise of excess but they never dream rain would be a part of it,”

He chuckled as he worked quickly and efficiently . The ladled dipped and disappeared into several pots. The largest one held broth, then noodles, then something fragrant and brown, next he added a handful of something overtop.

He pushed the bowl to the woman who shook her head, “I told you I’m light…”

“And I told you after what you did for my niece, it’s enough,”

Finch watched the strange exchange just beyond the protection of the oiled canvas awning. The smell of savory broth and fried bread made his mouth water instantly.

The woman belonged to Polaris, there was no doubt, with constellations sewn into her battered cape and engraved in her armor, but she was far from home.

And she seemed to know it. She kept her head on a swivel. Like she was expecting someone to be behind her. That kind of paranoia usually came with good reason.

Church dogs though…they weren’t known for piety. Usually this scene ended with the Noodle Vendor paying some tithe to the church but Finch couldn’t place the woman’s rank.

She didn’t have the airs of a Cardinal…she was alone so she wasn’t a Crusader. She held no pistols, so she wasn’t a Friar.

She seemed …nervous and isolated.

Finch pressed his lips together before looking back up at Vesper.