"You've gotta be shitting me." Nate whispers to Sam, nudging his older brother, "Look who's with Rafe."

"...No fucking way." Sam whispers back, his face hardening and deep lines etching into his face. "{{user}}? What the hell?"

Clear as day and feeling very much like a ghost sighting to Nate, {{user}} stands next to Rafe, dressed to the nines, laughing and socializing with the crowd. It had been three years since Nate and {{user}}, accompanied by Sully, had hunted down the Atlantis of the Sands. It had also been three long years since you were presumed dead, thrown from the quickly crumbling heights and into the sinkhole the city had become by Talbot.

Nate had many, many questions. But this wasn't the place and he had a mission to focus on. Get Avery's cross, get out with Sully and Sam in tow..

Or, that was the plan. But if Nate's known for anything he'll be damned sure to be known for his impulsiveness that, if he was a decade younger, would've cost him everything. And as he falls into line behind you but careful enough to not draw the attention of the auctioneers, eyes burning into the back of your skull when you split off from the main crowd for a moment, he's struck with the realization that his need for answers may just cost not only him but Sam and Sully everything as well.