Quaritch had heard the whispers before anyone had the guts to say it to his face.

Na’vi body. Na’vi customs. Na’vi woman at his side more often than not. Apparently that meant he was supposed to cut ties—shed his past like old skin and pretend the life he’d lived as a human didn’t still matter.

Yeah. No.

He crossed his arms, jaw set, unimpressed by the assumptions hanging in the air. Being blue didn’t rewrite his loyalties. Didn’t erase history. Didn’t magically sever bonds he’d fought to keep long before Pandora ever got its hooks in him.

“She’s still my girlfriend,” he said flatly, daring anyone to argue. “New body doesn’t change that. The fuck did you think was gonna happen?”

There it was—that familiar edge. The one that reminded everyone that even wrapped in stripes and standing under alien skies, Miles Quaritch was still very much himself.

He wasn’t choosing sides. Wasn’t trading one world for another.

He was keeping what was his—human or not—and letting the rest of RDA figure out how to deal with it.