Bitter Cold Truth: A Tale of the Everburning City

(2-1) The keen knife a'blur

The train clattered across the tracks with frantic restlessness, matching the wild pounding of Samuel's heart. It's noise drummed against his thoughts, and the usual drone of distant conversations was missing because of the late hour.

Inspector Samuel Fraser fidgeted in his seat and wrung his hands together. At least one of his fingers twitched involuntarily, and his jaw hurt from having clenched it for at least the last hour.

Samuel was surprised to see his partner was handling the moment so well. Angela was reclining deeply into the nearby seat, her eyes half closed and a small grin on her face.

"The part of army life I don't miss is all the waiting," Angela said, her voice shaking him out of his hazy thoughts and helping him focus. "Those long hours where you're supposed to be on-edge, waiting for something to happen. I think it's why I never could take sentry duty at the last wall."

Samuel was surprised to hear his partner talk about her time in the military. It had been a sore spot for her since he had met her.

"At least this waiting has a definite end. Oversight's headquarters is only a few minutes away," Angela said.

"You seem to be taking this well," Samuel said. He leaned forward, and let his hand rest against the messenger bag by his feet. "A lot better than I am, anyway."

"That's only because you tend to wear your heart on your face, Sam," Angela said. She chuckled to herself and sat up. "You'd be the worst gambler in the City if you weren't half-decent at reading people."

"And what does my face tell you right now?" Samuel asked.

"That you're over-thinking what you've learned about this case. You're going over our interviews, wondering what others questions you should have asked. You're worried that you don't have the right handle on how to track a reject, and you're wondering what you're missing," Angela listed, holding up her hand and counting each item off by folding a finger.

"I..." Samuel began to say, but he shrugged in acknowledgement. "Yeah, you got me."

"Of course I do. It's been almost a year since we were partnered up. And I've known that about you for exactly as long. You wear your worries the way a socialite wears her cleavage," Angela said.

Samuel tried to scoff dismissively, but it broke into laughter almost as soon as it came out.

"Is it really that obvious?" Samuel asked.

"Don't fuss over it. It's a cute trait. And if it makes you feel any better, the last person I knew who did that was Amelian Rustov," Angela insisted.

Samuel's eyes widened in surprise. "That's quite the comparison. You don't talk about your army days much."

Angela didn't answer for a long moment, long enough for Samuel to begin inferring the reason for it. It wasn't difficult; his partner was now absentmindedly rubbing her right hand against her left arm, and her eyes were focused on her own boots.

Samuel didn't know what to say, couldn't think of anything to improve on the silence, to pull his partner out of her melancholy, and decided the wisest course was to not try.

The awkward silence that followed was brief, however, as the brakes began to screech in protest, slowly pulling the train to a stop. Samuel stood up, slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder.

"But you really think I act like one of the heroes of the Sixth?" Samuel asked as he waited by the door.

"Don't let it go to your head. You're not half as clever," Angela said.

Samuel smiled to himself, taking the hit without a response. There were times that people just needed to get in a verbal hit or two.

Samuel exited to an unfamiliar sight. It wasn't the first time that he had seen Stone Grove Station, but it was usually on his way another place. The only time that he had ever stepped out here was during the Sixth. And he really didn't have the opportunity then to gawk.