If the Order's offices were just like any other office, the Order's cafeteria was just like any other cafeteria. Loud, kind of smelly and with bad food handed out with bad grace by a corpulent bearded man named Larry. 

The room wasn't very full, it was a lazy Tuesday evening. Banshee could feel some eyes on her, as she passed by some tables towards one empty one, but she wasn't that worried. She was just there to catch Larry as soon as he finished his shift. And to eat for free. Even if very badly.

She glanced towards the end of the room, and blinked, baffled. On the extreme end of a long table, where two other Enforcers were chatting and laughing, Garaham was sitting in front of an empty tray, his eyes focused on some kind of multi-sheeted document. His face was strangely relaxed as if finding its spot of personal silence in the room had somehow made his day better. Or, maybe, the thick gravy left in his plate was the indiscreet witness to one of his rare acts of defiance towards Francesca's soy diet, and his peace was the satisfactory sensation of red meat proteins flowing in his veins.

As if he had somehow sensed someone was watching him, he raised his eyes from the document and glanced around, until he noticed her. He frowned, confused.

She approached the man. He subtly covered his plate with a paper napkin.

«Don't worry, I won't talk.» she smiled, stopping beside him.

«Banshee, what in the world are you doing here?» he asked, between his teeth. «You should be working on... that particular assignment.»

«Oh, I am! Plus, I'm trying to avoid a showdown with the Lions.» she whispered.

«Showdown?»

«Aye, ye didn't know? Chico had... an encounter with yer friend's underlings. Don't worry, he's alive and well.»

«That's quite... surprising.» many things he would believe. That any of his Coven could survive unscathed a close-quarters encounter with such superior mages wasn't one of them. «Did he ran away with dignity at least?»

«Ran away? Chico didn't run away! Apparently Avalanche didn't feel like hitting Chico, and he got away with some bruises..»

«So, they probably understood by now that single combat s aren't going to cut it.» Garaham turned thoughtful. «They might try to come at you, scare you into running where we keep the music box.»

«I think they'd rather try to scry the hell out of us, waiting for any of us to go where they think we keep it.» she said. «They can do that. They can access good scryers, as a high-rank Coven.»

«So maybe, if you scatter, they'd be more confused, and maybe just choose one of you to follow. And if they should try and attack again...»

«... we'll just teleport to the chosen one and appear right at their backs, throwing them off-game, maybe enough to be left alone, fer tonite at least.» she nodded, catching his drift.

«Not the most elegant and honorable solution, but one that would ensure your survival for some more hours.»

«Aw sweet, yer worried fer us.» she mocked him, with a small laugh. He scowled at her, badly.

«I just don't want the kind of paperwork connected to a Coven member's death to land on my table, Banshee.» he snarled, taking up his document again. «Now shoo, some of us have work to do aside from babysitting dumb overgrown teenagers.»

She sighed and walked on.

Garaham was three pages into his document when something in the conversation going on at his table caught attention.

«... why? She's six different levels of crazy, but she's hot.» the young man was an unimpressive specimen of the average Enforcer population: tall, well built from years of physical training, and with a dull light in his green eyes that matched the dumb expression on his squared, quite handsome face.

«Get in line. She's been here for ten years, nobody can tell tales.» was the answer of his chatter companion. He was some years older, and a face Garaham knew somewhat well. Some grey had started to strand his black hair and fuzzy well-kept beard, and his gleaming brown eyes had a sarcastic light in them.

«Nobody? No way. Not even River?»

«Not even River.»

«Woah, that's unbelievable! And not even her Enforcer?» asked the young one, lowering his voice, but not enough for Garaham's well-trained hearing. He could feel the second Enforcer shoot a look in his general direction. He went on pretending his document was very interesting. Well, it was.

«Nobody, I told you. Some have tried, they'd all been sent back home. Some very badly mishandled. She must not be the easiest woman to keep under control.»

«Oh, I would keep her under control. Stated, that's the kind of crazy you shag and skidaddle.» snickered the younger Enforcer, followed by his friend.

Garaham turned towards them so abruptly the younger one almost fell from his chair.

«Is this the kind of sexist and unappropriated way they teach nowadays to talk about colleagues?» he started off. The older Enforcer painted an irritating smile on his face.

«Back off Garaham, we were having a private conversation. Besides, we were just appreciating a colleague and regretting her lack of attention towards her colleagues.»

«You see? This is one of the reasons offices nowadays are ridden with sexual harassment lawsuits, Caesar. You ought to teach that to your improper underlings. We're all here to work, not to treat our co-workers like an ordering menu.»

«I never thought you as a women's paladin, Garaham.» Caesar laughed, while the younger Enforcer looked quite bashful.

«There's more to an Enforcer's mission than just the job description.» he replied, almost proudly, getting up and picking up his tray.

«Come on, don't tell me you've never even thought about that.» Caesar teased him. Garaham's disapproval was palpable.

«I pity your poor wife, Caesar. What a lowly man she got.»

«Oh, come on! Enough with this self-righteous nonsense! Most Enforcers sleep with mages of the Order, or other Enforcers. They can force us to wed, they can't insist we stay faithful to wives we didn't choose! Not everyone got a Francesca, you know.»

«But I did. And I am not most Enforcers.» Garaham's blunt words were his last ones, as he went to put away his tray and walked towards the exit, in dignified silence.

https://youtu.be/6u5a7_-a3vM

«So, a trial, huh?» Larry laughed, amiably, looking at Alzheimer who was enjoying the sun, perched on Banshee's head, while she and Larry were sitting on the fire escape.

«Aye. And fun fact: we didn't do it.»

«Of course you don't.» Larry said, winking compliant and conspiratorial.

«Fuck it, we really didn't! Why in this Order everyone thinks we're an incompetent bunch of assholes all the time, but suddenly someone steals from a D'Yves and nobody doubts it for a second it was us?» Banshee snapped.

«Because, my dear, only people who live in the outskirts of the Order like you and the Pollos could have the lack of self-preservation necessary to do something like that. I doubt you even know something else about the D'Yves than the fact that you had to rob from them.»

«They're rich and powerful, they're in the Council and they have Realtime.»

«Which is, I suppose, the terrible power to bore you for entire afternoons?» Larry chuckled.

«Oh, fuck off, I don't care about this stuff.» she grumbled. «We have worst problems.»

«Worst problems than the D'Yves on your ass? What did you do? Steal a Leshrac's boyfriend?»

«A what?»

«Nevermind. How can I help you, lady? Because I know that when you appear in my eyesight, half is for my unforgettable ribs, but half is because you need intel.»

«I have to say, it's much more for the ribs.»

«Noted, and thank you. Now, spit.» Larry urged her, with a smile.

«The Expendables.» she said. Larry's expression didn't change.

«The Expendables? What would you ever have to do with those losers?»

«One of them, Staccato, he's got it out for us, and we can't possibly understand why. We never even seen the guy! And we think he's into this shit to his hair.»

«You're kidding? That strange guy?»

«Oh, ye know him?»

«Well, "know" is a heavy word for it. He never comes into the Cafeteria. I know his Coven companion, Irissa. Sweet girl. And River, of course.»

«Don't ye think 'tis war name's habit grows more ridiculous by the day, too?» asked Banshee, trying to connect those names to some faces, failing.

«Don't tell me you don't know who River is!» Larry looked at her as she had just confessed she had never heard about coffee.

«Would me ask otherwise?» she retorted.

«You of all people should know who he is!»

«Can we skip to the point where ye tell me?» she blurted, quite annoyed.

Larry shook his head and opened an Instagram account. He started swiping through photographs to stop on a particular one. It showed Mariposa, with a smile and a cocktail in her hand, completely spread all over a male figure.

Well, that was all you could see of the female Enforcer, because to make the male figure fit into the small photograph, the photographer had tilted wildly up.

Banshee froze.

She had seen him just one time, but some things you never forget. Like tornadoes, tsunamis, volcanoes erupting. And the blond perfection of the man walking down the corridor, the day after the heist.

«That's River?» she asked, with just a breath of voice.

«In the flesh, my dear. You understand why I was puzzled in thinking you didn't know him.»

«Are ye telling me he's the Expendable's Chief?» she could hardly keep her mouth moist, or so it seemed.

«You don't even know his story?»

«Are ye done with rhetorical questions?» snapped Banshee, keeping her eyes on the photograph. He had something familiar in his features. Something he couldn't truly put her finger on.

«River's the first, and only I daresay, divorced Enforcer of the Order.»

Banshee's eyes darted abruptly in Larry's, so fast he jumped, risking to let his phone fall from his hands.

«He what?»

«Jesus H. Christ, woman, where the hell do you live? It was the hugest scandal six years ago! He just decided that he was done with his wife and claimed a divorce. As you most perfectly know, the Order still keeps his medieval consideration of such a thing. His father, he was Councilman at the time, had to resign in exchange for a simple degradation to Cover Enforcer of the lower Rank for his son. River, who was Enforcer of a First Rank, and the best Enforcer of his time! And if it hadn't been for his father, he'd be in jail. The Order hates precedents.»

Banshee had stopped listening. Her mind was racing violently. The implications of his insubordinations were unthinkable.

«And you said he's here, right?» He looked like a good guy, maybe Staccato was just the bad apple in the basket, and she could get to some agreement or understanding with him instead. Besides, now that she knew of his rebellious heart, she felt they could connect on something important.

Larry simply nodded, and from now on the conversation was doomed to its end.