#kasnov

It’s been a week, now, since Uldren and his Barons were killed. He can still feel the kick of the Ace of Spades in his hand from when he fired it against the late Awoken Prince. He hasn’t touched it since. 

Kasnov still has work to do, but he’s tired. 

It takes a lot of convincing from Ikora and his Ghost, Red, to head to his humble, hidden home in the Inner City for some time off. He left the Tower-not-Tower and walked through the City, helmet on, hood down, for hours. Soon he found himself wandering a marketplace in between the Outskirts and Inner City.

“This is not what Ikora meant when she said to leave the Tower and go home, you know,” Red said, his deep voice materializing to his left. “This probably isn’t what’s best for you. I could have transmatted you right into bed if you wanted.” Kasnov kept walking, silently keeping track of the lone children sneaking around with eyes on him. 

Suddenly Red was in his face, stopping him in his tracks. “Did you hear anything that I just said, Kas?” 

“You said you could have had me in bed already with many more words. Sorry, Red.”

The Ghost lets out the equivalent of a sigh. “Are you okay?” 

Before Kasnov could answer, one of the small children he was watching had approached him. She could only be around five or six, Kas guessed, wearing slightly too big clothes and holding a plush Ghost. Both he and his Ghost looked down at her. 

She seemed to excite at their attention, eyes growing wide and her grip tightening. Then she turned and ran, dipping between the people of the marketplace and out of sight.