"So, let me show you to the lounge." They started to take a stroll through the winding halls of the base; it was awfully big even for what Kairo expected. They finally reached a room, which wowed Kairo; he expected it to be a few couches, chairs and a TV. He expected it to be boring and sterile. The lights were low with lamps hanging from black fixtures in the ceiling, dark wood walls with worn leather seating and a long counter with a case filled with drinks, tonics, vodkas, and fizzy drinks. The rest were on luminated shelves.
Agents were scattered across the room: some cackling, some brooding in their own silence over bright tablets. A faint haze hung in the air, not quite smoke, not quite steam—just the residue of long days and longer nights. Kairo's eyes wandered as he looked over to the sound system, the system playing some soft jazz. Kairo smiled before saying, "This feels different, y'know."
Lucan nodded as Kairo took a step directly into a girl. Spilling her drink onto herself as Kairo stumbled, back as the girl looked at him, "Didn't you see me?" She was around his age, seventeen, maybe eighteen, when she regained her footing. Kairo could distinctly hear something akin to jingling or clanking. Kairo looked down to see a tube strapped to her thigh. "I'm sorry, I wasn't looking." Kairo blurted out as he saw the girl produce napkins to clean herself, "You better watch out." She flicked her ash-blonde short hair, which stuck out from beneath a pair of dark-tinted goggles. She had a faint smell of gunpowder on her scorched shirt. "Some people carry shit that blows if ya bump them wrong."
His eyes darted to the tubes strapped to her thighs, "You're joking, right?" Lucan spoke up, "I don't think she is." The girl stuck her hand out, "Nova, if you want some gunpowder, HEI's, or need some mechanical help, I can deal with it. And you are?"
"Kairo."