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In her defence, Fade hadn’t been trying to eavesdrop.
It was a habit she’d fallen into somewhere along the way, a vital skill for her work that had kept her alive more than once and now was her first instinct. If she could hear lowered voices, muffled by a door but just audible, she couldn’t help but lean in closer to learn what she could.
When she heard the new agent chattering excitedly behind Brimstone’s door, Fade barely had time to think before cocking her ear close to the door’s hinge. The voices cleared just enough to make out, and Fade heard Clove passionately drumming a finger against Brimstone’s desk.
“Think about it!” they pushed a piece of paper across the table. “I’ll set it all up, nae stress. I’m kitted out, all I need is a group.”
“Well,” Brimstone sounded a little overwhelmed, but not displeased. He was likely still coming to grips with the new Controller’s energy levels. “I don’t see any problem with it, so long as you aren’t asking for funds. Killjoy’s wiped us clean for the rest of the quarter.”
“Nah, nae bother,” Clove’s drumming fingers picked up in speed with obvious excitement. “So, I can go ahead?”
“I’d give it some time, myself,” Brimstone advised. “I don’t know how this game works, but-”
“It’s fun!” Clove pressed, and Brimstone continued, cutting them off from going into another tangent.
“I’m sure it is, but it sounds like a big commitment. You’re new to the island, and there’s a lot you’ve got to adjust to. Take your time to settle in first.”
Clove let out a frustrated huff, and Brimstone chuckled.
“That isn’t a no. It sounds like a good idea, but Sage would have my head if I didn’t tell you to focus on your integration first.”
“Aye, fine,” Clove grumbled. “How long?”
“However long you need,” Brimstone chuckled. “It’s not jail time. Just make sure you’re comfortable before starting a club.”
A club, Fade cocked her brow. A newbie jumping in and starting something like that would certainly be unexpected.
“I can make it low maintenance,” Clove pointed out. “Oneshots, pre-written campaigns, whatever. D&D’s flexible like that.”
“I’ll pretend to understand that,” Brimstone snorted. “I won’t discourage you, will I?”
“Not if I can help it!” Clove’s chair squeaked, and Fade imagined they’d gotten suddenly to their feet. “That was a test, right? It was so a test. I’m nailing this.”
Brimstone only chuckled, clearly lost, and Clove let out a triumphant guffaw.
“Ha, this’ll be braw. Just you wait. I’ll get you playing one day!”
Footsteps approached the door and Fade pulled back, slipping just far enough to avoid suspicion by the time Clove pushed through the door and vanished away down the hall. They went with purpose, with a sprint more than a skip in their step, and they didn’t so much as turn to notice Fade had overheard the whole thing.
It hadn’t been a huge revelation, or anything largely private, but still, the thought of what she’d overheard stuck in Fade’s head, stubborn as a limpet.
Fade wasn’t new to D&D. She’d been playing for years, in fact - the roleplaying group she’d been a part of through most of high school had been one of the brighter parts of her teenage years. She even still kept her dice collection, stored safely in a bag on a shelf in her room, although she’d never imagined it might see the light of day again here, of all places.
A campaign with the Protocol was an intriguing thought. Fade knew a few agents who’d likely enjoy the game, and even some who’d probably played before. Killjoy and Phoenix seemed the type to have played at least once or twice in their pasts.
It makes sense to try, Fade reasoned with herself, and snorted softly. It was a bit of a reality shock, and she found herself scoffing at the fact that she’d never thought about it before.
The thought burrowed itself deep, deep enough to wriggle into the confines of her brain and take root where she couldn’t tear it free. It stuck there, just poking into her mind at all times and keeping her a little distracted.
She was distracted enough for Neon to notice, at least.
“You okay?” she asked one night as she got ready for bed, pulling her shirt over her head and basketball-tossing it across the room to land in Fade’s hamper. “You’ve been out of it today.”
“Sorry, Talam,” Fade murmured from where she was bent over a report. “I’m okay.”
“You still thinking about earlier?” Neon’s voice took on an edge of empathy, of caution.
That day’s mission hadn’t exactly been smooth sailing. A few of them had gotten hurt, Fade included, and while they were fine after Sage patched them up, it meant they all needed to fill out far too much paperwork.
“Not really,” Fade sat up to look over her shoulder, watching Neon as she stripped down to her underwear. She eyed her, simply admiring her girlfriend’s silhouette as she shed her underwear, now fully naked.
“I see you,” Neon cocked her brow, squinting at Fade as she drank in the sight of her. “You like what you see, or something?”
Fade’s lips twisted into a smirk.
“Don’t pretend you’re not as obsessed. I’ve seen what you dream about.”
Neon giggled. She sauntered over, taking clear pleasure in seeing Fade’s eyes linger across her, and lifted her chin with a finger before leaning in to kiss her. It was a brief kiss, heated but without any further intent, and Fade hummed into the contact.
Neon broke the kiss and pulled away just slightly, just far enough to speak into the gap between their mouths.
“Freak,” she murmured, although there was anything but displeasure in her voice. She and Fade made good use of Fade’s abilities, and some of their more salacious encounters had happened entirely in Neon’s dreams.
Fade met her eye through lowered eyelashes, content to simply enjoy this, and Neon kissed her forehead before pulling away to shower.
She knew Fade would be up late. It wasn’t too uncommon for Fade to be caught up with work, or too caught in her own head to sleep even if her work was done. She understood it wasn’t simply something Fade could fix, and so they’d simply learned to live with the fact that sometimes Neon would get into bed alone.
Fade turned back to her work, ticking boxes and diligently describing the events of the mission as she remembered them, in as much detail as she could manage.
Yoru communicated that Omega’s Jett was lingering on a raised platform, too high for most of us to get a shot. Without an agent who could get up there, we spread out to catch her from behind, but Cypher was killed by Omega Deadlock before we could rotate around the site.
It had been an ugly death. Deadlock wasn’t one to make her enemies suffer, preferring quick kills when she could make it, but she’d been caught off-guard, too. They’d been firing at her while she fired at Cypher, and she’d hit him only in the stomach before being taken out herself.
He’d died slowly, twitching, with blood streaming from his ruptured liver. There was no way of surviving a wound like that, not with the team they’d had, and so Fade knelt by his side and held her friend’s hand while he passed.
As reversible as it was with Sage on their staff, death, particularly a slow death like that, was always harrowing. Fade made a note to check on him in the morning.
It would be a long night, Fade could already tell. Neon wasn’t a settled sleeper, and while Fade’s paranoid brain appreciated having some form of constant proof that she was still there, it didn’t make it much easier to concentrate on her work.
The clock ticked from midnight into the early hours and Fade’s brain stalled, growing more and more slippery as her body wept for sleep her brain would never allow her. She found herself staring down at the page, willing her pen to move, more often than writing anything.
After an hour of trying but failing to get through the last of the report, Fade gave up and got up to get herself a drink. She’d been trying to stop herself from having coffee so late at night, but her sleep had only been getting worse. Clove was on the trail of something, helping Cypher whenever he wasn’t called out on missions, and it had promise.
He had the chance to be there, somewhere at the end of this rainbow, and there was no chance Fade could settle down to sleep when he could be just out of reach, waiting for her.
She shook her head in the hopes that it might clear her mind. It didn’t do much to help with that, and instead only made her temples throb. It had been a while since she’d last had any water, but right now she needed caffeine.
When she made it to the common room, she found she wasn’t alone.
It wasn’t entirely unheard of for others to be up at this time. Deadlock’s trauma troubled her greatly, often disturbing her sleep, and others milled about here and there, working on their own projects or kept up by something or other. She was used to running into Sova as he tweaked on his tech, or into Omen as he wandered the halls, ever sleepless.
This time, Clove lay sprawled across one of the common room’s couches, with their phone held above their face. Tinny, slightly obnoxious music was blaring from it, but when Fade entered the room, they paused whatever they’d been watching and sat up to greet her.
“Fade! You’re up late.”
“So are you,” Fade’s lips tugged upward. “You don’t feel like sleeping?”
“I’ll sleep when God strikes me down,” Clove enunciated with flair and draped their arms over the back of the couch, watching Fade as she pottered around the kitchen. “What are you doing up so late, mysterious stranger wanderin’ out the night?”
Fade hesitated to answer.
Clove didn’t know the details of her situation and she didn’t expect they’d handle it all that well. Few had up until that point, although in fairness, the newer agents who hadn’t been around to see her blackmail had usually treated her with more grace.
“I don’t often sleep well,” she explained simply. “There’s a lot on my mind.”
“Ooh, a mystery,” Clove responded with intrigue but didn’t push. Fade appreciated that - Clove had been vague about much of their own history, so they clearly understood her hesitance.
“I’m making coffee,” Fade looked back at them over her shoulder. “You want one?”
“Sure,” Clove shrugged. “Sounds good, thanks.”
Fade grabbed two mugs from the cabinet and got to work. She guessed how Clove would like theirs - from their behaviour alone, she could glean they probably drank it similarly to Neon, with so much sugar it was practically a milkshake.
She carried the mugs over, handed Clove their drink, and sank into a chair opposite theirs. She eyed them carefully, reading them as they unlocked their phone and resumed their video from earlier.
That persistent thought, almost ever-present, popped back into her mind.
D&D. Fade chewed on the inside of her cheek, and waved her mug in a small circle to feel the weight of the drink shift as it swirled around the edges of the cup. If you were ever going to bring it up, now would be the time.
Fade wasn’t a socially anxious person, per se, not after so many years doing bounty and freelance work. She was so accustomed to shitty clients and brash strangers on the street that there wasn’t much that could surprise her anymore, but bringing up the idea of a tabletop game with her work colleague was proving a little more challenging.
Part of it might have been the discomfort of revealing that she’d been eavesdropping, but most of it, Fade thought, was about perception. She had a reputation to uphold, after all.
Still, the thought wouldn’t stop plaguing her until she put it out of her mind, and that night, there was no one else in the common room to overhear. Even Cypher was gone from his usual post as he recovered in the infirmary.
She dashed her tongue across her lips, wetting them, and tried not to let her awkwardness show through in her voice.
“...Clove.”
“What’s up?” Clove glanced up at her from over their phone, and once again paused their video.
“I overheard you talking with Brimstone some time ago,” Fade chose her words carefully.
Clove’s expression didn’t twist in discomfort at the admission of eavesdropping. They only cocked their head, clearly curious.
“I overheard you’re looking to start a D&D campaign with us.”
Clove’s eyes lit up, and they sat up straighter.
“O-ho, is the resident witch looking to dip her toes in new waters?”
Fade snorted and shook her head.
“I’ve played before. A lot, actually.”
If Clove’s excitement had been a spark before, it burst clean into flames at that. They sat forward, clutching the edge of the couch and jogging their leg up and down.
“No way! I didnae ken, why’ve you been so quiet about it?”
Fade shrugged. She took a small sip of her drink and immediately fought back a wince as it burned her tongue.
“I’m usually a player, but I’ve been a dungeon master a few times before, too. I wanted to offer some help if you wanted it.”
“Oh, I’ll be fine,” Clove waved her away. “But you’re playing with us. No getting out of this one.”
Fade’s chest thrummed. It had been years since she’d played, but now she thought about the chance of playing again, she couldn’t help but brim with excitement. There was no saying if Clove was a good dungeon master, but she had to assume they knew their stuff.
They certainly had the confidence for it, at least.
Clove took a swig of their coffee, apparently unaffected by the temperature. They slammed the empty mug down on the table, still bouncing in place with obvious excitement.
“Oh, this’ll be fun. I’ve got a short campaign already in mind, but part of me wondered if anyone would even like playing. Worst thing is making people feel like they have to say yes, you ken?”
“I think some people would be down for it,” Fade looked down at her drink. It was still too hot, but she watched steam curl lazily from its surface. “I’d start with Phoenix, Killjoy, and maybe Raze. Raze might struggle sitting at a desk for so long without something keeping her hands busy, but she’s a creative mind. She might enjoy it.”
“Barry,” Clove beamed. “I’ll ask ‘em. I’ve run big campaigns before, so anyone who wants in can join to test it out.”
Fade nodded, and Clove sat forward again.
“How long’ve you played, then? You never said.”
“Oh, years,” Fade shrugged. “I played through my final years of school and kept on with it here and there when I could find a group. It got harder after I started working.”
“Few years, then? I’ve only played for three.”
“More than ten,” Fade snickered. “I’m twenty-eight, Clove. High school was a long time ago.”
“No way,” Clove barked with laughter. “I figure it’s best not to respond to that. Talks about age are dangerous waters.”
Fade shrugged.
“I’ve likely heard worse.”
“Nah, won’t risk it,” Clove waved her away. “I’ll blame it on being an immortal. Can’t be expected to understand mortal lifespans, can I?”
It was blatant bullshit, but clearly playful. Fade shook her head with a small sneer, and tried another sip of her coffee. This time, it was just cooling enough to take a sip, although it was still borderline scalding.
“So,” Clove finally sat back, with some of their initial excitement dissipating. “Where you from? Not had much of a chance to talk to you yet.”
“I’m Turkish,” Content with her drink, Fade slung an arm over the back of the couch. “Lived in Istanbul before coming here.”
“Oh, sick!” Clove nodded. “I’m-”
“From Edinburgh,” Fade finished for them. “I know.”
“Oh,” Clove cocked their head. “Who told you? Brim?”
At that, Fade balked. She didn’t know how much Clove had been told about her abilities, and once again, she wasn’t sure how they’d react. She looked down at her drink and took a sip, choosing not to make eye contact while she answered that particular question.
“Not exactly. I saw it in a vision.”
It wasn’t exactly a small confession. Fade had been one of the first to make contact with Clove, although Clove hadn’t known anything about it. She’d seen them in imminent danger from whoever it was that had hired Iso, and even Omen, back when Omen was still whole.
In the vision, Clove had been in danger, but Fade had seen they didn’t care. Danger meant little to an immortal, which she understood now, but hadn’t then. She’d seen Edinburgh’s pointed architecture and the arches of the library, and at the confirmation of Edinburgh’s involvement, she’d pushed for Clove to be found.
If it weren’t for her, it wasn’t all that certain Clove would have even been hired, but Fade hadn’t planned on telling them that. Prophetic visions didn’t exactly amount to a pleasant coffee shop meet.
“Oh,” Clove’s eyebrows raised, but they didn’t seem phased. They nodded, seemingly impressed more than anything else. “Cool.”
Fade lifted her eyes, staring at them. Twice now, they’d taken shocking revelations without so much as a flinch. She was used to being treated like an outsider even in the Protocol, with abilities not even she understood, but Clove reacted like she’d confessed to little more than which hand she used to write with.
“Look at you, clever clogs,” Clove continued, smirking. “Knowing all my secrets. You’re ruining my whimsical, mysterious demeanour.”
“Yes, well,” Fade’s mouth twisted into a wider smile. It felt good to be treated like she was normal, despite all the oddities of her powers. “That is a decent part of my job.”
Clove chuckled. They stretched until their spine popped, and let out a satisfied sound as they slumped back against the cushions. Their face clouded, then, and while they still smiled, they spoke with an air of caution.
“If I’m honest, though?” They began to pick at their nails - a habit Fade recognised from Neon. “I can’t say I’m not nervous. I want to do well here.”
“You’ll be fine,” Fade encouraged them, and took another drink. “Trust me. We all worried about that at the start. There’s a lot to learn, but you’ve got a lot of time to learn it, and plenty of teachers.”
The anxiety didn’t leave Clove’s face, and Fade could still feel their fear hanging around them, like a low-lying mist, but they shot her a grateful smile all the same.
Before they could say much more, though, they groaned and got to their feet.
“Agh, ‘scuse me. I’m busting for the cludgie; coffee never agrees with me.”
Fade blinked - she had no idea what that meant. She must have looked as lost as she felt, because Clove snickered and translated.
“Need a shite, I mean. Back in a tick.”
“Oh,” Fade withdrew, curling her nose just slightly. “Thanks for… telling me.”
Clove laughed and darted from the room without another word. True to their word, they didn’t take long, and were back before Fade had even finished her drink.
“So!” They threw themselves back onto the same couch as Fade this time. “Tell me, what do you play?”
Fade glanced over at them, and Clove pushed further.
“In D&D. Go on, tell us - I bet you’re a tabaxi player.”
Fade bit back a laugh. Of course, they’d accuse her of playing a catfolk as a first point of call.
“Dinnae be feart,” Clove grinned. “You can admit it. I’m right, aye?”
“Not quite,” Fade finished her coffee and rested the mug on the table. “I’ve played tabaxi once or twice, but I usually pick tieflings.”
“Oh, aye?” Clove cocked their brow, and something curious crossed their face. “I pick those, too. Something of a queer pick, that.”
Ah, Fade caught on to what they were doing, and met their eye with a sceptical look. With no subtlety at all, Clove was calling her on being queer, while also admitting they were, too.
“Yes,” she merely responded with the slightest upturn of her mouth. “I suppose you’re right.”
Clove smirked, clearly proud to be right about their suspicion.
“I like you already.”
Fade’s cheeks heated. It was new for her to be accepted so openly by someone new. Even the most frightening parts of her had seemingly been nothing to them.
With little clue how to cope with the thought of being so easily liked, Fade brought the subject back to what she’d meant to offer from the start. She could digest how she felt about it later, when she was ready to open that box which she’d long since promised to ignore for as long as she could.
“I meant what I said earlier, by the way,” she gestured with a backward tug of her head. “About helping out if you need it. I know it can be uncomfortable being a dungeon master for a group of strangers.”
“It’s good of you to check,” Clove playfully pushed Fade by the shoulder. “But I’ll be grand. I used to host clubs for newbies back in my mammy’s library. Did some paid campaigns, even.”
“Impressive,” Fade commented, and Clove shrugged.
“I’m a better DM than I am a player. That’s about it.”
It was… odd. The entire conversation was odd. Fade wasn’t used to this. Clove had accepted her more easily than she’d expected, but more than that, Fade had enjoyed their company more than she’d expected, too.
It was too much to unpick in a single night, and so Fade put the thought of it out of her mind. She went back to her room that night with something resembling a new friend, as little as she’d expected that to happen.
She didn’t end up sleeping. She didn’t even finish her report.
By the time Neon woke up the next morning, Fade had gotten into bed at her side, but she was sitting up, with her phone in hand.
When Neon woke and mumbled a tired good morning, Fade greeted her excitedly, kissing her across the face and chatting to her about the conversation she and Clove had had in the middle of the night.
Neon was too tired to take much of it in, but she grumbled her sleepy support and shuffled tighter against her side. Fade ran her fingers back and forth through her hair, lightly scratching her girlfriend’s scalp with her nails, and scrolled through the new group chat Clove had invited her to at some point during the night.
It was made for planning sessions and discussing who might be interested, and a small piece of Fade’s childhood had been singing to her ever since she’d gotten the invite. D&D had been one of her warmest memories from a troubled childhood, and now she could approach it with a clearer head, and happier than she’d been in years.
As silly as it might have felt to admit, she was thrilled. There was joy in rediscovery, and as rare as it was, as much as Fade would raise her hackles and pretend to hate it, there was even more to be found in making new friends.