Chapter Text
“And you’re certain that there’s been nothing unusual going on in your parents’ laboratories?”
I’ve been on a call with Emmaline Sommers for the past fifteen minutes, trying to figure out all I can about Juliette. Who she really is, why my father chose to send her here of all places, and most of all, why her touch caused Greene so much pain.
On the other end of the line, I hear Emmaline sigh.
“For the last time, Aaron, no. At least there’ve been no abnormalities in the labs I have authorization to enter. I can try and look into it, but it’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” I ask. “Why tomorrow.”
I probably talk to Emmaline the most out of all of the other Supreme Commanders’ children, nowadays anyway, and therefore know her better than the rest. If there’s one thing I know about Emmaline, it’s that if someone asks her a favour, she’ll never delay carrying it out without reason.
I hear what sounds an awful lot like a sniffle, almost as if she’s trying not to cry.
“Aaron,” she whispers. “Have you… have you forgotten what day it is?”
I scour my mind, trying to recall what Emmaline might be talking about, and tense up when I remember.
“Right,” I mutter my voice tight. “I apologise.”
Today’s the anniversary of Ella’s death, and I imagine that there will be little else on Emmaline’s mind at the moment.
“I’m visiting her grave in an hour or so,” she tells me, her voice shaky. “I got these yellow flowers for her and I think… I should… I have to go.”
I hear her try to get her breathing under control, and before I can say goodbye, she hangs up.
Internally, I curse myself for forgetting what day it is.
Ella’s death affected me so intensely as a child, I’ll never understand how I’ve repressed nearly all of my memories of her.
But anyway, I have more important matters to attend to at the moment.
Like Juliette.
She, alongside Kent and Kishimoto, arrives at breakfast around fifteen minutes after myself, and there, one issue immediately arises.
She won’t take off her mask to eat.
Rather, she meticulously wraps the dry foods, fruits, breads and pastries, in napkins and places them in her pockets.
Kishimoto looks at her with a childish impersonation of shock.
“Aren’t you going to eat, princess?”
Juliette says nothing and seals her now stuffed pocket, before sitting perfectly stationary with her hands in her lap.
The two soldiers share a glance, clearly unnerved, then startle when she chooses to speak long after the most socially acceptable time frame.
“I can eat in my own company,” she states matter of factly. “I assure you that a delayed meal will not hinder my performance today.”
I find myself strangely fascinated by this girl. Yes, girl. Not woman. Her stature is too small, voice too soft to indicate that she’s any older than seventeen or eighteen. I don’t bother to ponder how she gained such favour from my father by that age either, when I myself only took over the sector when I was around the age I assume her to be.
“Very well,” I stand up from my chair, noting that there are no crumbs on the napkin I’ve just dabbed to my lips. “If you’d prefer I can see to it that meals are sent to your room so that you can eat in private.”
She nods at that, and stands up herself.
“That would be appreciated, sir.”
She then turns to leave, and I witness a brief altercation between Kent and Kishimoto in regards to whether they go with her or finish eating their food first. It ultimately results in Kent dragging Kishimoto out of the cafeteria by the arm whilst the latter splutters through a mouthful of bread.
He’s a strange man, that one.
Once the rest of my soldiers have been dismissed, and I too have excused myself from the breakfast table, I make a mental note to send a message of condolences to Evie and Max, even if I suspect that they might not be grieving to the same extent as their daughter.