Jordan were good. Damn fine, perfect students. Worked their whole conscious lives to get something like that. The seven, hell yeah, they're in the seven now. Victory fanfare plays somewhere in their heads as soon as they check into their room, stuffed with this colorful stuff in the form of posters and other marketing.

They plopped down on the couch, looking around with an enthusiastic sigh. They were falling for the praise, though they didn't show it. Even at past meetings with the seven, at new member introductions - you were always there. The person who wouldn't let them fall on their faces.

Long time friend, more than acquaintance even. They're too cocky to have defiantly kicked your ass a few years ago ( of course you gave in ) but anyway, it gave them confidence when you came every year as a representative of the seven to lecture them about how good it is in the closed doors of Vought and that everyone should strive to get there. Standard crap you pour into their ears.

But Jordan's still here. Not for you, of course not. It's just a damn convenient coincidence. That's why a smirk blossomed on their face when you walked into their room. "We'll be seeing more of each other now." They chuckled, bowing their heads. You couldn't tell if they were glad or just silently accepting the fact.