"You kept him?"

Ryder's voice croaks out, a betrayal hidden deep within each syllable that struggles to stay cloaked behind some false mask of security. It's an emotion that runs the course of their shared blood and yet it poisons only December, his words an inadequate response to the question asked.

December knew this moment was coming, it was an inevitable fact really. Yet the question still sucks the air from his lungs, leaving him motionless all except for a spinning head and plummeting sense of self respect.

It was all but naive to think he could have Terry run through the hallways with a huge cage two hours after deliveries and not expect people to start chatting about it. Yet he did it anyways. Even when knowing the consequences. And now he has to live with them.

"We need him, Ryder, I trust that you know that as much as I do. Plus," December bargains, wet tongue running over the cracked terrain of his lips. "he isn't even human so whatever it is that you're scared of you don't need to be. I don't know how many times we can have this conversation. Everything is going to work out in the end and Subject A1 will help us reach that end."

His authoritative tone seeps through each locution as he subconsciously tries to get the boy to submit to his will. To admit that he's wrong and acknowledge that December has everyone's best interest at heart.

It's the tone he uses on almost all the workers at Haven when they start to get antsy and rebel. Or worse yet, when they see no end in sight, no reason or purpose, and ultimately quit their duties all together. Yet even with his years of practice, December holds back his next move as he thinks. A pang of something he can't yet detect digging its nails into his side.

"And so because you're doing 'the right thing' it's okay? We're going to excuse murder because it's the 'right thing'" Ryder seethes, fingers trembling as they hold the table in a whitened tenure.

He takes a seat at the glass desk in December's office as his breaths falter, fists flying to his hair as he lets out a scream of frustration. "God be damned have you even heard what you're saying?"

His temper lowers to a simmering boil, the heat that had rushed into his cheeks now dissolving along with the rest of the acid that pulsates through his sickened veins. Ryder turns to his cousin sat silently on the white couch in the far corner of the room, his eyes glued to the door expecting someone to surge in due to the constant outbursts.

Ryder can't keep his newfound demeanor for long. The line of his jaw tightens as round two begins, but is abruptly cut off by a shortage of his own anger. "Do you even care, December? Or are you just truly okay with cutting open a being like this?"

He murmurs his speech into open palms devoid of any feeling. All sensation gone from his being as his eyes shut against the assault of the bright lights. The slightest of tears begin to form in the corners of his eyes, a subtle maneuver of the wrist destroying all evidence of the sensation.

It's a sensation that happens so often now that Ryder barely hides his reddened cheeks, the tears a constant in his life nowadays. But he can't tell if it's from the bright lights of the small office square or the steady stream of disappointment in his cousin that always invites them back.

Disappointment. The word leaves him on pause, its syllables rolling through his head once more as he lifts himself from his now wet palms, eyeing December with a newly discovered point of view.

He's never been disappointed in December. Through all the years, all the captures, all the cutting and chaining and death and gore that fills the halls of Haven he has never once been disappointed. Angry? Yes. Scared? For sure. But never disappointed.

The emotion has him taken aback, a loss of words struggling to climb up the back of his throat and fill the void that he had left in their conversation. He can't find them however, and they can't make it up on their own. Rather falling back down with a slight cough as he awaits a response from the silent December.

December lets out a heavy sigh, the slightest of pressure bearing into him. His shoulders physically slump from the emotional weight bestowed upon his too tired frame. The sound transforms into a mist that occupies the entire office, suffocating the residents with its depth. "We aren't cutting him open, at least not today."

The last part is more to himself than to Ryder, December thankful that the sulking child couldn't pick up the soft muttering. "He's intelligent and he's powerful, Ryder, and we aren't just going to throw all that out without at least getting some answers first. We'll interrogate him-" Ryder perks to interrupt but December holds him to a still with the outstretching of his palm. "see what he knows, what he can teach us, and then we'll operate on him."

Ryder merely scoffs. "Is that supposed to pacify me?"

"Yes."

It comes out much sharper than intended, a scintillation of hurt washing over Ryder as he rises from his seat at the glass table. He makes his way slowly to the door and large viewing window at the front of the room. Hesitating however, he turns to meet eye to eye with December one more time, the last of his fight not yet dying out with the extinguish of his flame.

"I want to come too. To the interrogation."

December eyes the clock, foot tapping the light wood flooring impatiently. The office is one of the only rooms in Haven not covered in linoleum, his foot making an unfamiliar thumping sound as he continues with the needed distraction. He could let Ryder tag along but at what expense? Isn't the whole reason that they're in this mess is because Ryder wanted to tag along on the delivery route?

December falls silent as his thoughts continue in a steady back and forth conversation of yes or no, the pros and cons constantly outweighing one another. December fidgets in his seat once more, the polyester of the couch rubbing up against him and emitting a strangely perfume-y fragrance of leather and herb.

"You can come to the interrogation but you have to stay in the viewing room with the rest of the team, okay?" He huffs out in defeat, already regretting the decision but knowing that it's too late to back out now.

Ryder gifts him with a faint smile, twisting the knob still held tightly in his grip and excusing himself from the room. Which leaves December sat alone in the silence he had left behind him. Eyes falling to the clock above his head with just a hint of annoyance at its never ending tick. Four hours, December thinks to himself, eyes shutting and allowing him to focus only on his thoughts, the steady rhythm of the clock acting as a metronome to the perpetual flow. Four more hours...

An hour to have him cleaned and dressed.
An hour to administer the numbing medication, halt his magic, and type up identification bracelets.
An hour to have him transported from his cage to the interrogation room.
An hour to set up the supplies, the questions, the recorders and the guards.

Yet each hour feels so long to him as he audits the clock's lullaby overhead, the marching of guards audible from outside his door playing as a bass to its melody. The sound is distinctly present though they are halls away at the interrogation room. Readying themselves for the arrival of both December and Subject A1, the so called guest of honor.

The thought brings a slight grin to his lips as he sits himself up from the white couch where he had laid restlessly for the four hour's wait. Thick fingers flipping through old documents and jotting down a question now and again to ask Subject A1.

A subtle knock on the door has him peeking his head up from the mess of papers and folders before him, straightening his coats as he eyes the man in the doorway. His brown hair is a frizzy mess of curls, each strand sticking close to his head and each ringlet spinning onto his shoulder, bouncing with every movement.

He's around December's age. His thick lips pulling into a smile as he waits for December to gather his papers and clipboards in a disordered rush. The papers turning this way and that as they crumble into a pile between his hands.

With the slightest shuffle he manages to stuff them into their respective folders, making his way to the door to greet the awaiting man chuckling slyly into his palm. His dark skin contrasts with the light tan of December's as he places a thick hand around December's arm, pulling him into the white halls with too much enthusiasm.

"We've been waiting all day for this man, you won't believe how many guys we have lined up at the viewing windows. It's like a feature film or something." The boy, Abrahm, snickers at his own joke as they make their way down the halls at a casual pace, rearranging papers as they go. December knows they won't, and can't, start without him, so he's really just running on his own schedule. It's one of the many perks of being head of lab.

"Well at least tell me that they've blocked off the area, I don't want any nosy eyes going where they shouldn't." Ryder's face pops up in his mind as he speaks but he pushes it away, instead focusing on Abrahm walking ahead of him. His friend a solid five steps in front of him though they seemed to be walking at the same pace.

They make a left at the end of the white hallway before turning into a sharp right, crowds of men already lining up feet away from the door. Letting out a quick cough each set of eyes turn to him. Their faces duck in shame as the extras scuttle away, only a few men in hazmat suits lingering at the solid silver doorway.

It has no handles, just pristine metal and a small retina scan next to it, not even a keypad in fear of curious hackers breaking into the place. Which basically just means Ryder. But still a precautionary measure none the less.

Abrahm stands back as the older men do their jobs. They administer a hazmat suit to December as he steps into each foot, shimmying into the plastic material and zipping it up to his neck.

It's slightly suffocating, he notes, but he shakes the feeling as the men lower the mask onto his face. The boy is now fully aware of each stuffy breath he takes that is recycled back into his lungs. His only line of vision comes from a horizontal glass panel in front of his eyes, just long enough that he can see the hands reaching out in front of him to secure his oxygen tanks.

Abrahm steps forward into his line of vision, holding up the clipboard so he can make out a few of the scribbles before pointing to a space beside them.

"I'll be just outside the room, December." He points to an opening door adjacent to the first, around five men already hovering inside void of hazmat suits. The interrogation room sealed to prevent any leaks of potentially poisonous gasses a creature may emit.

There's no telling what Subject A1 could have up his sleeves and it's better to be safe than sorry as December leans over to the retina scam. He winces at the puff of air before the laser glides over his eye and he places his mask on once more. The whoosh and turn of gears becoming audible from somewhere within the door itself.

He looks back at Abrahm one last time before giving him a thumbs up with his right hand, the clipboard held securely in his left as he steps into the interrogation room. Subject A1 is already sat at the table with his head down, eyes shut against the customary blinding lights of the room.