#nele.

Tensions run high in the QZ, that much is clear even to Simon. There’s a prize up for grabs, one that means not just power but that offers extra rations — and while some might claim not to be intrigued by power ( which in and of itself Simon considered a lie: it was human, nay, animal nature to long for such a thing ) most must be hungering after a few extra bites. For him it’s the fomer that wins out, admittedly, though he doesn’t want to caught in the act of seeming too desperate for it.

He is, a bit. It was disheartening to watch so many receive promotions as his own name was not called, but that isn’t something he is keen on showing either. No, it’s best to keep those cards close to his chest, that desire. Besides, does it matter much? Compare him, a mere soldier, to this enforcer he’s on patrol with — Nele, who came into the fold so violently, who does not enjoy the proximity he gets from Alexei, nor the privileges that come with it. He tries to tell himself as much, anyway: he cannot lose himself in bitterness. He’s above such things.

And yet, the itch to be the one to solve the mystery untimely demise of Mike Giraldi remains. He scratches it as Finn and him move towards the museum lookout, their patrol squad of the day only the two of them. She’s a good enforcer, he’ll give her that. Proper company. Good tattooist. Really, there’s much worse company out there. “Not worried, are you? Now that someone out there seems to have it out for enforcers.” He kicks at a loose rock, wonders why the human brain seems to have that instinct. “There’s no need for it, if you were to ask me — and I’m aware that you’re not, but still. You’re way more tolerable than Mike was.” Another kick against the same rock. Admittedly, it is a concerning thing. Not enough to startle, but enough to furrow a brow over. “Still, it’s a concerning thing, generally speaking. If we start going after our own kind ...” He shakes his head, tuts. “Well, that’s just bad news, isn’t it?”