The smell of cigarette smoke and cheap coffee lingered in the air as Adler stepped into the small roadside diner. It was the kind of place where no one asked questions, where faces came and went without leaving a trace. A good place for ghosts.

And, as it turned out, you were one of them.

At first, Adler didn’t recognize you immediately. The posture was different — less rigid, less... trained. But then you turned your face, and his eyes narrowed.

Bell.

He froze for a moment, taking in the scene before him. You were alive. Alive.

Hudson must have laughed in his face when he mentioned it, like some inside joke Adler would never be part of. He always knew Hudson had reservations about what had been done to you. But keeping you around? Forming some kind of bond? That was something Adler hadn't anticipated.

“Well, well...” Adler’s voice was almost casual, but there was something sharp beneath the surface. “Look who crawled back from the dead.”

He pulled out the chair across from you and sat down without asking, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. His eyes scanned you, noting every detail — the years that had passed, the marks time had left.

“Should I be surprised? Because, honestly...” He lit a cigarette, exhaling the smoke slowly. “I don’t think I am.”

The truth was, Adler had always known Bell was tougher than they seemed. But surviving that? The gunshots, the weight of everything that had happened? That was something else entirely.

He tilted his head slightly, watching for your reaction.

“So tell me, Bell... Do you still answer the command, or did Hudson manage to tear what’s left of me out of your head?”