“Good.”
    Good is the only thing he says after listening very carefully to Cassian’s observations. He doesn’t answer the kid’s question about the apartment—doesn’t get a moment to, even if he wanted. Cassian’s thinking process is what interests Kay the most. Why the kid judges things the way he does, why he is so quick about it—maybe a remnant of old instincts, a way to survive as a little child left alone on Fest and later at the Rebellion base. The quicker you judge whether or not something is a threat to you, the quicker you can decide what to do about it.
    The other side of the coin is that quick judgements don’t always lead to truthful results. Sometimes, quite the opposite. Kay spots the weakness like a hound. But the kid is learning. He doesn’t jump to conclusions as quickly as he used to back at the base not so long ago. Good. This is what Kay means when he says that. Good progress.
    Yet the kid is still a kid. Worrying in a very child-like manner of his future.
    “You worry like a child afraid to be rejected, yet you make me believe you hate my guts for what I did. You gotta pick,” Kay says. He leans a bit closer, lowers his voice to a whisper, “The first thing I told him was that it was a terrible idea. I knew the chance of you asking me the question and me telling you the honest answer was so very high no matter what I did. I don’t lie unless I am working. So I wanted him to reassign you. He didn‘t. Then I told him how high are the chances of you dying—and he still didn’t. I am not going to ask him to do anything. I did my best to prevent this, and yet here we are.”
    Kay doesn’t sound like he’s retelling something that had any emotional impact on him. It did, of course. The inevitability of it was crushing him, but he couldn’t tell the general, and he couldn’t tell anyone—and, frankly, didn’t want to. There isn’t a single soul left in this universe that Kay would like to have next to him, listening to him. They are all dead. They all have been dead for a while.
    “If you would like to be reassigned, you better decide on it now. I can complete the mission alone. He will understand. Think on it. You have until midnight.”
[nick]Kay Tooesso[/nick][status]what are the odds[/status][icon]https://s7.postimg.cc/akubc07uz/Chiwetel_Ejiofor.jpg[/icon][LZ]<br><center><a href="https://swmedley.rusff.me/viewtopic.php?id=75#p815">IDENTIFICATION CARD</a><br><br><img src="https://forumstatic.ru/files/0018/1a/00/81098.png"><br><b>Kay Tooesso</b>, <br>Alliance intelligence officer</center>[/LZ]

Отредактировано K-2SO (26-07-2018 01:50:15)

    There are two types of people. There are the ones who go through suffering and emerge filled with pain and anger, and then there are the ones who just learn to be a bit wiser, a bit kinder to the world around. It’s fascinating to watch the kid lay out his conclusions. It’s fascinating how seemingly easy—or, rather, easier—it is for a fifteen-year-old to process all of this and change his mind. If not forgive, then do his best to forget, at least for a while. Kay knows, if he was in Cassian’s shoes right now or even a couple of years ago, he would neither forgive nor forget.
    He was in Cassian’s shoes once.
    “I did like and want it—all of my job, whatever it entailed—for reasons you will never be able to understand.”
    There are so many ways in which the kid can get it wrong, but Kay can’t bring himself to add the six simple words that would set it right. There are things, rather terrible ones, that he has done and has no problem remembering or explaining, and then there is one thing he can’t decide he wishes to forget or remember always, so he just tries to stay as far away from it as he possibly can.
    It’s rather difficult, given it’s branded in his skin.
    “This one time—I’ll let it slide. If that wasn’t an empty threat,” Kay challenges instead, not flinching away or stepping back, but ready for whatever Cassian decides to throw at him next.
    It’s funny, he’s much taller than the kid, he’s much taller than ninety percent of people and aliens around, so no matter what is going on, he has to look down on everyone, including Cassian right now. Kay has been told many times that it’s intimidating, combined with his lean and muscular physique—a product of his past and present. He is fine with being intimidating. He is also curious what kind of effect it might have on Cassian.
[nick]Kay Tooesso[/nick][status]what are the odds[/status][icon]https://s7.postimg.cc/akubc07uz/Chiwetel_Ejiofor.jpg[/icon][LZ]<br><center><a href="https://swmedley.rusff.me/viewtopic.php?id=75#p815">IDENTIFICATION CARD</a><br><br><img src="https://forumstatic.ru/files/0018/1a/00/81098.png"><br><b>Kay Tooesso</b>, <br>Alliance intelligence officer</center>[/LZ]

Отредактировано K-2SO (26-07-2018 11:14:00)

    Cassian takes his words and flings them right back at Kay. It doesn’t hurt but it makes him mentally stagger, bruised. The kid is right. He isn’t perceptive enough to understand anything just from observing—nobody is, to be honest. It’s been so long, and Kay made damn sure to carve out all of the old habits, all of the old reactions, anything and everything that could give him away. The only two things he couldn’t erase he covered up and hid away.
    He doesn’t need the kid to understand. It will bring him no peace or profit, so there is no point in explaining. Only as a training game—and even that is only because Cassian got curious about him. Nothing motivates a young person quite as effectively as curiosity.
    The punch isn’t strong, but it’s calculated. Kay exhales through clenched teeth but doesn’t budge a notch, still towering over Cassian. It’s not as much painful as it is unpleasant. He is used to punches aimed like that. Cassian doesn’t have to know it. Kay looks the kid in the eye, a fleeting uncomfortable expression disappearing on his face like ripples on a surface of a pond. So, Cassian isn’t afraid of someone bigger than him. It makes sense. For a kid, who lived all alone on Fest before the general came along, it makes a lot of sense.
    “Like I’ve said. You earn your answers,” Kay says, as if there was no punch and no previous dialogue. “Let’s amend the rules. You earn your answers with anything I deem worth rewarding. Use your head. Now!”
    And with that simple word, Nigel is here again, all languid moves and big smiles, and positive vibes so difficult to resist.
    “With all of this mess sorted out, let’s proceed with our plans for today. Bags, then decorations, then what was it—ah, right. Clients. Come along, Jeron, we’ve wasted enough time on this pleasant banter. Let’s go.”
    He flaps his hands around and goes for the door, and leaves it open behind.
[nick]Kay Tooesso[/nick][status]what are the odds[/status][icon]https://s7.postimg.cc/akubc07uz/Chiwetel_Ejiofor.jpg[/icon][LZ]<br><center><a href="https://swmedley.rusff.me/viewtopic.php?id=75#p815">IDENTIFICATION CARD</a><br><br><img src="https://forumstatic.ru/files/0018/1a/00/81098.png"><br><b>Kay Tooesso</b>, <br>Alliance intelligence officer</center>[/LZ]

    Kay retreats into his Nigel persona and doesn’t come out, not even once. He decorates the space with posters and a calendar, and little bits and pieces—because this is what Nigel would do. He teases the kid—because this is what Nigel would do. He does odd jobs with odd people—because this is what Nigel would do. He talks nonchalantly of his life and Jeron’s life, and Uquine, and their clients, and their trade—because this is what Nigel would do. And when they work, he concentrates on the task so much, he doesn’t fill the silence with words—because this is what Nigel would do.
    He goes to cantinas, he flirts, or finds them new jobs, or gets in an argument or two, but never the fighting kind. Nigel doesn’t do fights. He’s a very peaceful man, because he is also a very big man, and nobody wants him towering over them. He doesn’t get friends but he gets acquaintances who think they are friends. One other thing he does—he watches Cassian carefully out of the corner of his eye, day by day, every day. The kid seems withdrawn and impatient the more time flies by.
    Kay looks at the wide bracelet that is his watch and nods, answering Cassian’s question. A woman they just spoke to was very reserved in describing the job, her clothes were the kind you’d expect of a person who often has to run, and even more than that—the time she chose to come. Just before they close. Gotcha.
    And then, of course, there was the job.
    “We work through the night, this is a one-time opportunity,” says Kay. “You will talk to her in the morning, refuse the payment. If she insists, you agree to the half of it. If she asks why, what would be your answer?”
    He walks around the workshop, but only because this is the way Nigel thinks, and he needs to think this answer through very carefully. It has to be honest but calculated enough to make the probability of her return very high, and also it has to not scare her away. People from the cell would be very careful of who they trust and why they trust, and for how long. It’s a precision game they are playing here, him and Cassian.
[nick]Kay Tooesso[/nick][status]what are the odds[/status][icon]https://s7.postimg.cc/akubc07uz/Chiwetel_Ejiofor.jpg[/icon][LZ]<br><center><a href="https://swmedley.rusff.me/viewtopic.php?id=75#p815">IDENTIFICATION CARD</a><br><br><img src="https://forumstatic.ru/files/0018/1a/00/81098.png"><br><b>Kay Tooesso</b>, <br>Alliance intelligence officer</center>[/LZ]

    Kay keeps walking back and forth until he stops and turns to Cassian, listens to him very carefully. The kid smiles for the first time in a while, a smile so sincere he can’t hold it in, Kay supposes, because youth is impatient, youth hates waiting and is only ever happy when it is doing something—even better, if it’s something meaningful. Kay doesn’t smile back, but he snaps his fingers and points at Cassian.
    “That is correct,” Kay says. “Whenever you want something from a person, you need to show them how your interests align with theirs. How they can achieve something they need or want through helping you achieve what you need or want. It’s a very basic principle of negotiating with any living creature in the galaxy.”
    He pauses.
    Then adds, “Remember that like your mother’s name. At one point out there it might save your life, and it might save the Rebellion. People are always willing to listen if you tell them you know how to get what they need.”
    Now Kay smiles and dances goofily around the room, before returning to his workstation and setting up his datapad for work. The job the woman brought them is relatively easy, it’s just a test for them to show off their skills, and boy does Kay plan to show off their skills. It would be a complete and utter overkill, and it would be worth every sleepless hour. The first rule of getting into any organization—make yourself useful, and overtime, if possible, make yourself indispensable.
    Kay hums an old Corellian lullaby as he works, his voice low and soothing. It’s easy to hear he isn’t very used to singing, he doesn’t always hit the right notes, but it doesn’t really matter—lullaby is something anyone can sing, no matter their musical talents. From time to time he gives Cassian different tasks, from deciphering little bits of information to writing strings of code, and slowly but surely he assembles what he was tasked to do. A little spy program for the cell. Nothing too serious, it’s a simple fishing tool which can provide access to internal messages of any network it’s implemented into. The woman said it’s to catch her cheating work partner, but Kay doesn’t believe it for a moment.
    It’s early morning when Kay finally sits back in his chair and picks up a cup of Gatalentan tea.
    “I have a personal question I would like to ask you.”
[nick]Kay Tooesso[/nick][status]what are the odds[/status][icon]https://s7.postimg.cc/akubc07uz/Chiwetel_Ejiofor.jpg[/icon][LZ]<br><center><a href="https://swmedley.rusff.me/viewtopic.php?id=75#p815">IDENTIFICATION CARD</a><br><br><img src="https://forumstatic.ru/files/0018/1a/00/81098.png"><br><b>Kay Tooesso</b>, <br>Alliance intelligence officer</center>[/LZ]

Отредактировано K-2SO (26-07-2018 19:34:58)

    There is a great deal of things one can guess from a person’s behaviour, but there are things impossible to guess, too. Kay can read Cassian in the moment, Kay has read Cassian’s file, Kay can even guess certain things from Cassian’s past and upbringing on the Rebellion base. He can’t guess the specifics. Details. Little things that make Cassian—and everyone—so complex and fascinating.
    “Why do you think the Empire is bad?” he asks quietly. “Wait a minute before answering.”
    When a minute passes—Kay has an impeccable sense of time, doesn’t even have to look at his watch—he says, “Go on.”
[nick]Kay Tooesso[/nick][status]what are the odds[/status][icon]https://s7.postimg.cc/akubc07uz/Chiwetel_Ejiofor.jpg[/icon][LZ]<br><center><a href="https://swmedley.rusff.me/viewtopic.php?id=75#p815">IDENTIFICATION CARD</a><br><br><img src="https://forumstatic.ru/files/0018/1a/00/81098.png"><br><b>Kay Tooesso</b>, <br>Alliance intelligence officer</center>[/LZ]

    Cassian begins his answer with the words he learnt from other people. In time it becomes very easy to see when somebody just repeats the propaganda they heard so many times or even helped spread. Then he finally gets it, the smart kid that he is, and answers from his heart. It’s a very human, simple answer. It doesn’t require loud words like fear, phrases like ‘it rules against the will of people’, a bullet list of abstract wrongdoings.
    Kay nods, “Fair enough.”
    He takes a sip from his cup and sets it aside, turning to Cassian. This is something he often ponders about, and he isn’t sure the kid will allow him more questions without asking anything himself, but Kay has to try. Teaching skills is easy. Teaching perspective is not. Kay finds it that the latter is much, much more important than the former. Almost anyone can teach one skills. Who can teach one perspective in the world filled with propaganda?
    “Another question. Imagine somewhere out there, there is a boy of your age. He’s a good kid. Smart. A bit of a troublemaker, but then again, he doesn’t do anything bad. Just a bit of mischief here and there. His dad—a kind and caring person, always bringing him gifts from his travels. Killed guarding some distant relay somewhere far away. Just some radio. It was never meant to be important—until it was important enough to be killed over. His family is devastated. They know there is a ruthless enemy out there, and this enemy can strike at any moment, anywhere in the galaxy. There isn’t a single safe place left for them. There are reports of people being killed everywhere—with precision and in cold blood. Do you have this picture in your mind now? Hold on to it,” Kay pauses for a moment. “Now tell me, does it ring a bell? Do you feel empathy for the boy who lost his father? The boy who will inevitably decide to take up arms against this enemy, to fight them, because he wants to protect his family and friends, his home, to protect himself. Do you?”
    Kay watches Cassian’s face closely, tilting his head to one side just a bit and staying perfectly still. This is not the end to what he is trying to convey, but he needs the kid’s answer first, as well as his undivided attention.
[nick]Kay Tooesso[/nick][status]what are the odds[/status][icon]https://s7.postimg.cc/akubc07uz/Chiwetel_Ejiofor.jpg[/icon][LZ]<br><center><a href="https://swmedley.rusff.me/viewtopic.php?id=75#p815">IDENTIFICATION CARD</a><br><br><img src="https://forumstatic.ru/files/0018/1a/00/81098.png"><br><b>Kay Tooesso</b>, <br>Alliance intelligence officer</center>[/LZ]

Отредактировано K-2SO (27-07-2018 00:18:49)

    “Ah, he observes and tries to guess, but guesses wrong,” and at that, Kay laughs.
    It’s not Nigel-y kind of flamboyant and full-body laughter, it’s more like a quiet chuckle. Kay doesn’t laugh very often, not since he has joined the Rebellion, anyway. The mere idea of Cassian thinking he would try to recruit him to serve the Empire—the Empire Kay hates so much it makes him capable of truly terrible things one shouldn’t be capable of—is funny to him in a very humorless kind of way. It’s absurd. There is nothing he can do that would make the Empire welcome him back.
    Not even killing Mothma or Organa could accomplish that. And either way, Kay will never switch back.
    “Of course, I knew,” he continues. “I didn’t name the enemy, because it doesn’t matter. Whatever enemy you put in that little story, the Empire or the Rebellion, the boy would still be just a kid whose father was killed. Empathy shouldn’t concern itself with sides. You don’t have to agree with a person to feel empathetic towards them.”
    Tiredness makes him sentimental. What one might call ‘a sharing mood’ suddenly overcomes Kay, and he doesn’t like it. Usually when he’s tired, there is nobody around. But this is important, and it is important now, before they both get into the cell where their talking will be drastically limited by conspiration. So he pushes himself just a bit further.
    “Empathy is how you know somebody’s needs and wants. Empathy is how you make people trust you, tell you things. Add this to the pile of things you need to remember,” with that, he gets up from his chair. “And for the record—if I ever try to recruit you into the Empire, you might as well just shoot me dead, because it wouldn’t be me anyway.”
    There is just a hint of a strain breaking through his calmness.
[nick]Kay Tooesso[/nick][status]what are the odds[/status][icon]https://s7.postimg.cc/akubc07uz/Chiwetel_Ejiofor.jpg[/icon][LZ]<br><center><a href="https://swmedley.rusff.me/viewtopic.php?id=75#p815">IDENTIFICATION CARD</a><br><br><img src="https://forumstatic.ru/files/0018/1a/00/81098.png"><br><b>Kay Tooesso</b>, <br>Alliance intelligence officer</center>[/LZ]

Отредактировано K-2SO (27-07-2018 00:49:17)

    It feels as if the kid doesn’t know where to stop. He keeps asking questions, and Kay is just standing there, staring at him, his eyes tired. It’s early morning, for star’s sake, such conversations shouldn’t happen in early mornings when he is so tired. Kay considers just snapping at Cassian, bringing him back in line but then abandons this idea. What would that achieve? The kid will get upset, and his questions are still going to linger until he asks them again. On the other hand, Kay could ignore him completely.
    Silence extends, unfolding bit by bit, consuming seconds, minutes. These are personal questions, and Kay doesn’t owe the kid any explanations. They are on the mission, and it’s the only thing that is important. Kay perches himself on a table, brushes his palm against his face. He is tired, and he is fine with showing it. Cassian should be tired too, but he isn’t thirty-four. The kid is more than twice as young.
    ”I will answer one of your questions, because it was a long day and you did a good job. And because the probability of you asking it again and again until you get your answer is too high, and I can’t waste my time on doing this over and over again. The other questions you will answer for yourself, using your own observations, it’s a good practice. You can come to me when you think you got the answer. The first two or three times you will most likely miss the point entirely, but keep trying. I will only amend one of the questions to make it more accurate,” tiredness seeps into his voice making it quiet. “First, the amendment. The base isn’t my home, it never was and it never will be.”
    Kay doesn’t want to delve deeper in the topic of home, so he leaves it at that, making a punctuated pause.
    “As to your last question, you apparently do not pay enough attention. I was very clear in my phrasing but you chose to hear what you wanted to hear. Which is an understandable mistake for a human being, especially a young one,” Kay looks at Cassian. “Do you really remember what I said?”
[nick]Kay Tooesso[/nick][status]what are the odds[/status][icon]https://s7.postimg.cc/akubc07uz/Chiwetel_Ejiofor.jpg[/icon][LZ]<br><center><a href="https://swmedley.rusff.me/viewtopic.php?id=75#p815">IDENTIFICATION CARD</a><br><br><img src="https://forumstatic.ru/files/0018/1a/00/81098.png"><br><b>Kay Tooesso</b>, <br>Alliance intelligence officer</center>[/LZ]

Отредактировано K-2SO (27-07-2018 10:03:46)

    The urge to touch his wrists, cover them up even though they are covered, is almost irresistible. Instead Kay just grabs the side of the table and holds on to it. He doesn’t know for sure but it feels like the general just picked the most exquisite way to torture him. Cassian brings out things Kay would much rather leave untouched and covered with dust. Cassian asks questions and doesn’t step down until he hears his answers. The kid is truly remarkable. He will make a good agent once he has the experience.
    If he survives.
    He just might. Hopefully.
    “I do hope you never will, kid,” the words are loaded, Kay drops them as if they were leaden weights.
    There are things impossible to understand unless you lived through them. Cassian is almost too old to ever be able to live through the same thing—and although they are similar in some ways, they forever will be different in others. For one, Kay didn’t live out his childhood on a bunch of Rebellion bases. He wishes he did. He imagines, from what he sees in Cassian, it might even be nice to grow up around people connected by a great cause.
    “Your memory is incomplete. There is one little word you’re missing.” Kay studies Cassian’s face for a few seconds before continuing. “I did like and want all of my job, whatever it entailed. I did. Until I did not anymore.”
    It’s not yet the answer, Kay understands this will not be enough to satisfy Cassian’s curiosity. He has to pick one more thing to tell, but they got so close to the things Kay doesn’t want to talk about and doesn’t consider anybody’s business except his own, and maybe the general’s. There is one more person, the third side to a two-side deal, but that person isn’t going to talk to anybody, so he doesn’t have to worry about that.
    “I left the Empire in such a way that should have gotten me killed. As you may observe, it didn’t. I survived, and I have no intention of ever going back. Even if I did, they would execute me as a traitor, and there is no way I could prove them wrong and wiggle my way back. This is exactly the reason your general trusts me and was able to persuade other people, Rebellion leadership, to trust me too.” Kay stands up, looks down at Cassian. “Take a quick nap or drink some caf and do as you’re told once the client is here. No more questions for today, we have work to do, and I need at least four hours of sleep to function.”
    Kay doesn’t wait for the answer and goes to the bedroom, promptly closing the door behind him. He doesn’t undress, just loses the boots and drops on the bed, exhausted from the conversation much more than from a sleepless night. At least, when he sleeps, the kid can’t bug him with uncomfortable questions. The game he came up with to train Cassian is still rather genius, but costly as well. And he has a feeling it will only get costlier.
[nick]Kay Tooesso[/nick][status]what are the odds[/status][icon]https://s7.postimg.cc/akubc07uz/Chiwetel_Ejiofor.jpg[/icon][LZ]<br><center><a href="https://swmedley.rusff.me/viewtopic.php?id=75#p815">IDENTIFICATION CARD</a><br><br><img src="https://forumstatic.ru/files/0018/1a/00/81098.png"><br><b>Kay Tooesso</b>, <br>Alliance intelligence officer</center>[/LZ]

Отредактировано K-2SO (27-07-2018 13:21:52)

    Kay wakes up past midday, groggy and not feeling well. He pulls himself up from the bed anyway, straightens his clothes and checks his watch on one hand and his wide leather bracelet on the other. He sits on the bed a couple of minutes, collecting his thoughts from yesterday and going through their plan and their timing. It’s been more than a week, and soon they should get into the cell. Nobody sets strict timing for missions like this one, but Kay likes to do his job as quick as humanly possible.
    Outside the room it’s surprisingly clean and smells like caf, and Kay wanders into the little kitchen to discover a caf-pot first, and then back around the flat with a cup of caf to find Cassian. Once he does, he stops in front of the kid, giving him a puzzled look.
    “What is this about?” is his first question. He shows Cassian his caf like it’s something impossible. A supernova in a mug. “How did it go?”
    Kay knows he has slept for more than four hours. Closer to six. Why Cassian didn’t wake him up once their most important client left? What’s up with all this cleaning and caf? Doesn’t the kid want to sleep? Is this something he just does? Not sleeping and cleaning the apartment? Kay didn’t see him do it ever before. But then again, Cassian was angry at him. Most likely, it’s something that non-angry Cassian does.
    Angry Cassian just strolls out of the apartment and does his best not to talk with Kay, instead finding company in local teenagers—which is perfectly understandable. Kay thinks it is. Maybe. It would make sense in the grand scheme of things. Angry Cassian—strolling out, non-angry Cassian—getting cozier in his surroundings. But why isn’t he angry anymore, if he really isn’t? Kay raises his eyebrows and takes a sip of caf. Teenagers are way more complicated than even Imperial protocols.
[nick]Kay Tooesso[/nick][status]what are the odds[/status][icon]https://s7.postimg.cc/akubc07uz/Chiwetel_Ejiofor.jpg[/icon][LZ]<br><center><a href="https://swmedley.rusff.me/viewtopic.php?id=75#p815">IDENTIFICATION CARD</a><br><br><img src="https://forumstatic.ru/files/0018/1a/00/81098.png"><br><b>Kay Tooesso</b>, <br>Alliance intelligence officer</center>[/LZ]

Отредактировано K-2SO (27-07-2018 18:25:12)

    Cassian’s answer is so earnest, Kay doesn’t believe it at first. The kid hated him and now he just decided to stop hating him. The fifteen-year-old kid. “Remarkable,” Kay hums under his breath before taking another sip of caf from his mug. It makes him wonder what other amazing things could Cassian do if left bored in a closed space. His next thought is about the way this could be used for the mission. Kay doesn’t shy away from it, but he also realizes that not everything—even if possible—should be used for the mission. Some things should stay casual, unrelated.
    Like cooking, which fell on Kay’s shoulders. He didn’t do anything fancy, it was more army-style food. He went about it like a droid would, following the recipes to the letter and always spending exactly one hour on it. Breakfasts were always up to Cassian, Kay only ever made them for himself, because no sane teenager would ever be interested in eating stale cheap porridge. Kay isn’t delusional. But the rest of the meals he cooked for two, always making sure they both got proteins and carbons and vegetables in needed proportions, almost as if following some long-forgotten routine. Always setting table at the same time.
    For Kay, cooking was also time for thinking and calculating, and bouncing ideas around his head. In truth, that was the only reason he didn’t delegate it to Cassian and busy himself with something else related to the mission. Thinking was related to the mission in the most direct way.
    “We’re not in,” Kay says. “But we are peculiar. We did a good job, we refused the money, and that will certainly prompt some interest from them. Now we have to prove to them we’re for real.” Kay looks at his caf, then drinks the rest of it. “Go out and bring me some of that ephemera you said boys were giving out on the streets. We’re going out tonight, and we need to know a good, respectable local place to go.”
    While Cassian is out, Kay will make them lunch, and then after that they can upgrade their commlinks for their evening needs, and off they go. Sounds like a plan.
[nick]Kay Tooesso[/nick][status]what are the odds[/status][icon]https://s7.postimg.cc/akubc07uz/Chiwetel_Ejiofor.jpg[/icon][LZ]<br><center><a href="https://swmedley.rusff.me/viewtopic.php?id=75#p815">IDENTIFICATION CARD</a><br><br><img src="https://forumstatic.ru/files/0018/1a/00/81098.png"><br><b>Kay Tooesso</b>, <br>Alliance intelligence officer</center>[/LZ]

    Once Cassian is out of the door, Kay busies himself with all kinds of things. He takes his commlink and adds a bit of code to its default programming. Then he makes sure his datapad is exactly in the state he would like it to be, browsing history and all the apps intact. Only then he switches to the kitchen and cooking. This time it’s just some noodles with ground meat and local vegetables of all kinds of funny colors.
    He thinks through the plan while cooking and serving food. The cell should be very careful. They trusted Kay and Cassian with this little job as a test. Now, when they get truly curious, they will come back. There are two ways for that to happen. Either they come and find Kay and Cassian themselves, or they come here and search through the things. Both possibilities are equally imaginable and predictable. It might take time. But not long. They didn’t pay, so there are bound to be some of them who will get alarmed about it. They will decide to act quickly.
    When Cassian returns, the food is on the table, and Kay is sitting there, waiting patiently for the kid’s return, still tinkering with something in his commlink. He sets it aside, taking a stack of flyers from Cassian. Good. These will do perfectly. He just has to scatter some of them around the place, hide them like one would when afraid of being caught. Kay nods to himself.
    “Sit. Eat,” he orders Cassian. “And give me your commlink. Then you have five hours of free time before evening. I suggest sleeping, but it is up to you.”
    Kay puts the stack of flyers next to his commlink, which he picks up and continues tinkering with, managing to eat along with typing endless strings of code on a datapad connected to the commlink. After this morning, which molded itself with yesterday’s evening, he generally avoids talking more than needed to convey orders or valuable information about the mission. He’s not pretending to be Nigel, doesn’t see the point of it at the moment. Nobody’s watching, and Cassian is pretty good pretending he’s Jeron, from what Kay was able to observe, so the kid doesn’t need more practice at the moment.
[nick]Kay Tooesso[/nick][status]what are the odds[/status][icon]https://s7.postimg.cc/akubc07uz/Chiwetel_Ejiofor.jpg[/icon][LZ]<br><center><a href="https://swmedley.rusff.me/viewtopic.php?id=75#p815">IDENTIFICATION CARD</a><br><br><img src="https://forumstatic.ru/files/0018/1a/00/81098.png"><br><b>Kay Tooesso</b>, <br>Alliance intelligence officer</center>[/LZ]

    While Cassian sleeps, Kay cleans up in the kitchen, tinkers with the kid’s commlink, and then hides a few flyers around the place. He remembers hiding stuff when he was a child, and then a teenager, and these memories help him. The only difference now is that he is meticulous and precise about it. Hiding something to be found is quite different from just hiding something. Kay doesn’t suspect that people from the cell are stupid but they are going to be in a rush, if they decide to come here. And he would like to know if they do.
    He doesn’t have time to get to that before Cassian wakes up. The kid looks better now, despite little lines under his eyes—the signs of sleeping out of schedule. Kay looks at him over his shoulder, sitting next to the apartment door. It’s an old and very low-tech trick that he goes for, but it almost never fails. Kay returns back to his shenanigans with the door lock. It’s an old door that still uses a key, which is a good thing in their case.
    “That’s lazy,” Kay says calmly. “You have all the thinking skills you need yet you prefer fast-served answers, prepared for you by someone else. Do you doubt you can think through the situation? Did you even try?”
    Almost everything is a teachable moment for Kay, and he never passes the opportunity. A young mind is capable of handling this much information in such a short period of time. Answers isn’t what Cassian needs, even though Kay could easily provide them. The kid needs to learn to think for himself, to analyze, to go through his options and choose wisely, because that’s how you survive when there’s nobody around to help you—and Kay isn’t going to be around all the time. That is also how you do not fail the mission when there isn’t a commanding officer next to you ready to supply decisions.
    “Impress me with your amazing thinking process,” Kay adds. ”Why are we going out? What’s our goal?”
[nick]Kay Tooesso[/nick][status]what are the odds[/status][icon]https://s7.postimg.cc/akubc07uz/Chiwetel_Ejiofor.jpg[/icon][LZ]<br><center><a href="https://swmedley.rusff.me/viewtopic.php?id=75#p815">IDENTIFICATION CARD</a><br><br><img src="https://forumstatic.ru/files/0018/1a/00/81098.png"><br><b>Kay Tooesso</b>, <br>Alliance intelligence officer</center>[/LZ]

    “Don’t distract yourself with unimportant things,” Kay doesn’t even miss a bit after Cassian’s words saying that. Doesn’t even think. “And that is still very lazy of you. Think, think. You named me two ways of knowing something about a person without talking to them—people they work with and their living space.”
    Kay gets up and checks the lock, closing and opening the door multiple times. It works perfectly, so he leaves it alone and proceeds to the commlinks. He tinkered with them but they also require fine tuning, and for that he needs Cassian’s help. One of the commlinks he puts on his wrist next to his bracelet, the other throws to the kid.
    “Put that on, make sure it’s fixed properly and isn’t loose.” Kay steps away from Cassian as far as the room allows. “So. You named me two ways. In our case, I can think of at least four more. Step away from me.” He waves his hand at Cassian, looking at his commlink. “Press the send button once and then quickly press it the second time and hold it for three or four seconds. Then release the button and answer me, what are the other four ways. Thinking and pressing buttons at the same time shouldn’t be difficult, you are going to be fine.”
    It sounds more sarcastic than it does soothing, but Kay doesn’t concern himself with proper intonations or wording at the moment. His mind is occupied with two things—preparing for the most important part of the mission, and teaching Cassian. He doesn’t ask him the most difficult question yet, the one that truly requires thinking through. The one he is still thinking through. Because that’s what he does—all the possibilities, the good ones, and the bad ones, are always there in his head, being reassembled endlessly in different combinations.
    The commlinks are for the bad possibilities. Perhaps, the worst ones.
[nick]Kay Tooesso[/nick][status]what are the odds[/status][icon]https://s7.postimg.cc/akubc07uz/Chiwetel_Ejiofor.jpg[/icon][LZ]<br><center><a href="https://swmedley.rusff.me/viewtopic.php?id=75#p815">IDENTIFICATION CARD</a><br><br><img src="https://forumstatic.ru/files/0018/1a/00/81098.png"><br><b>Kay Tooesso</b>, <br>Alliance intelligence officer</center>[/LZ]