Lullabye For A Soldier [Emil/Lukas]

Deathly silence took housing within this meeting office; most souls wouldn't ever be welcome into his true quarters, so having this shut away room be used as a faux space always appeared to work. Especially not this one, not the one he was to look upon today. Here an hour prior to the meeting's time, handling lower tier work on the computer, the click of a battery-operated kettle going off as he'd carefully set two cups of tea to brew closer to the meeting time. Black tea.

He'd take a sip - the face his visitor would see would not be of a technological sheen likely spoken of in rumors, but rather his true face; the face of who was previously a comrade - one thought to have walked away from all of this. Not even the warm lighting of the office could bring light to his eyes, not that he wished for so. This was not a matter to mask for, after all.

As he heard that door open, predictably on his visitor's clock, he'd speak, "Atherisch."

A dark gloved hand directed to one of the seats before him, "Take a seat."

It wasn't a polite request.

THE CITY OF LIGHTS
It didn't take long for his phone to start ringing when Lukas left the Grandmaster's office. Not that it should've surprised him - the new one seemed more glued to his screen, concerned with peacetime bullshit in a time past that - but nonetheless, it did. The black screen flickering to life with two words; RESTRICTED NUMBER. Lukas stared at the screen for a moment, answering it with ice in his voice.

"Cut the shit, give me the location." A surprising lack of anger, all things considered. The other end of the line was static; a voice responding through synth and filters, warbling through the phone speaker. The quincy's face twisted with a sneer, cutting back before the voice finished. "Got it."

Ending the call, he made his way, no particular care given to his pace.

Pushing through the office door, puzzle pieces connected in Lukas' head; bordering on literal daggers from his eyes as he took a seat. For a heartbeat, he saw himself standing on a broken desk. Emil's head lodged into the wall, Lukas covered in blood raining from a severed neck. He resisted the temptation.

"So much for dogs and leashes."

It was far more convenient he decided to come easy on his own - it would have been quite a hassle to drag him here. He didn't take heed of the sharp comment nor the piercing gaze; he wasn't interested in entertaining such childish displays, calmly typing at his computer as he gave a side glance to the untouched cup, then up to him.

"To be truly honest, I am rather disappointed in you, Ätherisch," Taking a measured sip of his own cup, a low sigh escaping from him, "I was quite a believer in permitting you the chance to rehabilitate within service to the Vandenreich, really and truly. Yet, here you are - a stagnant pond amongst flowing rivers. Disrespecting superiors, being nasty and ill-tempered with your common man, and even failing your mission; while I would normally lay the brunt of the blame on all who had participated, your little attitude problem gives me reason to assume more of it to be upon your shoulders."

There was no warmth or friendliness to his voice, it was as if a frozen abyss had learned to speak, cool and smooth in tone and volume, "That is the thing about perception, Ätherisch; it shapes the opinions others have of you before you could even open your mouth to speak. I've heard of your little complaints toward how you're viewed, but earnestly... What do you have that would drive others to put faith in you? Security and trust don't exactly come free, so I am terribly curious of what you believe you're even doing to cast favor."