Earlier this morning, in his room, he'd risked pacing. It eased his nerves. Then Reynolds had come and escorted him - with a guard, there was always a guard when she was around - to the anteroom that served the parole hearing. He knew he was being watched in here, and that kept him stationary, staring out the window at the dead tree and waiting to be called.

I've done everything I was supposed to do, Reynolds. It's your turn now.

There was an echoey creak as the door to the room opened and then clicked shut again, and he shifted his gaze from the courtyard to the reflection in the glass. What he saw didn't make much sense, but when he turned around, there she was, dressed in a plain grey uniform just like his. He schooled his surprise. Obviously, she was here for the same reason he was. Parole. Her outfit suggested they intended to send her the same place they were sending him. Command School. That meant that there would be someone up there with him (if she passed) who knew him and wouldn't look down on a Charybdis parolee, and that offered another possibility.

Alliance.

We'll see if they pass her...and then, we'll see.

She should have been, and knew it, but was finding it hard to rouse that sort of anxiety from herself. Apathy had settled over her like a warm, comforting shield, and it kept her calm. She couldn't be angry or frightened or skittish if she didn't care what happened. Not to say that Kat wasn't going to try her damned hardest to give the parole board what they wanted to hear, but after eight years in Charybdis, she still didn't really believe that they'd let her free.

In, out, locked up, free. It's all the same. If they pass me, I'll finally be able to escape. If I fail, I can go back and rule again. Either way, I'll survive. I always do.

Asmodeus greeted her when she was finally led into the parole anteroom, and Kat nodded back, a little of her apathy lifting as the idea of what they could do together flickered briefly through her imagination.

We could play again.

She smiled, sat down beside him and stared out the window. "Morning, Mode."

I already bought my luck.

He looked at her as he stood up and she smiled at him. It was a small smile, but he knew her well enough to imagine the canines outlined against her bottom lip. He wondered briefly if she meant it, or if she was playing to the cameras, or to him. Then he reminded himself that playing to him wasn't likely to get her anything, and it was doubtful anything she did in here would positively affect her chances at parole, and she probably knew that.