She'd been waiting for nearly forty-five minutes, and allowed herself a slightly bored sigh. Apparently, the IA had not placed her interview on a high priority level. This was either a calculated move to make her uncomfortable or just the slow processing of the bureaucratic system, and either way, she was beginning to get irritated. The longer this took, the longer it would be before she could initiate her search for the necessary files, and the longer it would be before they could deliver the information to Icarus and make their exit. With their exit came graduation, and with graduation came freedom.

With freedom came Gabe, and the stars, and Sol did not like waiting.

She shifted in her chair, casting a glance at the guard. He looked bored, but her attempt at a reserved friendly smile drew no response, and she went back to examining the door in time to see it slide open.

Finally.

The first thing she noticed was the silver bar on his shoulder. Lieutenant. She relaxed a little more. If they had really cared, they would have sent an officer of a more distinguished rank. That relaxation evaporated when her eyes settled on his face, and if she hadn't been so used to concealing her apprehension or fright in the face of Hale's unexpected assaults, she would have gasped. Instead, she retreated behind her Gabeface and stared in shock.

Eyes the color of concrete, framed by ashen lashes, too cold to be called pretty, narrowed as they took her in. Finely chiseled features did not yet suffer under the hard, closed look he now wore, and he was more muscular, but the same liquid grace she still had occassional nightmares about was still evident as he deliberately made his way around the large conference table to stand next to her chair. She'd barely known the boy, but she had no trouble recognizing the man.

Hale had played the last round of their little game to win, and somehow managed to conjure Nathan Terrence.