Hermes found himself drifting away from the conversation in the main lounge of the Ninth Department.
His eyes blurred against the sharp glow of the projector screen, but his mind wasn't there at all. It was somewhere else, far away from the Ninth Department's luxurious lounge, somewhere past the sterile walls and velvet seats, past the careful arrangement of bottled waters on the table, past the endless murmur of numbers and projections.
It had been a month since that night in the cell tower with Raphael. And still, the words haunted him.
"The Thirteen Stripes believe you will cause the end of the world."
The idea lingered like a stain he couldn't scrub away.
"Hermes?"
The voice pulled him back. Somner, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, a slight furrow on his brow.
His tone was softer than usual, almost careful. "You alright?"
Hermes blinked, straightened, and brushed it off with a shrug. "I was just thinking."
"Thinking about what?" Somner pressed.
