The Velvet Grand from Jepella was one of those places that stuck in your memory, and not for the right reasons. At first glance, it seemed like it was any other five-star hotel, albeit three times the size. Supporting over a thousand guests, it had the usual amenities; the ever-present reception for an implied and standard form contract; one queen-sized bed and one keycard; a theatre that hadn’t held a new showing in a few days; a large restaurant section; a small bar section and an entire section dedicated to business centres, labelled the Starforge Centre.

That was where the similarities ended for you, because as soon as you had followed one of the door attendants through its wide and well-guarded entrances, the first glance of The Velvet Grand revealed the first of many differences: a fifteen foot high wall, which you were immediately informed by Elio via the script, surrounded the entire five-star hotel.

Six feet of worn, awkwardly laid and cemented brick served as the foundation for a further six feet of reinforced corrugated metal panels, upon which a foot of barbed wire looped itself in and out of the top few inches of the panels, much like thread entwined in fabric. Anthropomorphic and Jepella Brotherhood guards patrolled platforms on the inner side of the wall, vigilantly scanning the wide velvet carpet for any sign of intruders or Stellaron Hunters.

“I’ve seen a lot of people come through here. None of them are quite like you.”

Kafka frowned. This had to be the third time someone had tried to hit on her since she had been waiting for you. Firefly had spent about ten minutes at the Stellaron Hunter Headquarters before dragging Silver Wolf to the next mission, and Blade and Elio had been resting since the last one.

This had left Kafka being paired with you and acting like a married couple for this mission, tracing her slender finger around the rim of her glass of red wine, chin in her hand and looking decidedly bored. And a little intrigued.

“Flattery is such a dull weapon.” she responded flatly, keeping her eyes away from the unwelcome visitor. “Especially when it’s the first one drawn.”

“Maybe I’m just trying to start a conversation,” he continued in a voice that was supposed to sound husky, “Call me Skott. May I sit?”

The intruder known as Skott didn’t wait for Kafka to respond before he took the stool closest to her, forcing her to shuffle her own stool away from him. Continuing the ignorance that she didn’t like about most people, he kept talking to her.

“You’ve got that…stunning energy. So, what are you doing—“

“Waiting for my partner.” Kafka cut him off, before his voice made her any more nauseous. Like a particularly irritating bout of a Stellaron infestation, he didn’t take the hint.

“Partner, huh? The type who shows up late or the type who doesn’t exist?” he teased. Kafka, however, straightened up as a wide beam shot across her face, and she pointed over to the main doors of the Velvet Grand.

“It’s them. You should leave now — they’re not fond of strangers hovering too close.” Kafka announced, as she rose from the stool and strode off in your direction. You barely had time to smile before she had already wrapped her arms around you, turning the flutters in your stomach into a full-blown storm of butterflies. It was so out-of-the-blue, it threatened to permanently stop your breathing and the beating of your heart.

Remembering that the usual response to a hug is to put one’s arms around the hugger, you gently placed your hands on her back and heard an audible hitching of breath. You held up your left hand, prominently showing off the silver wedding band. That thing has never left your side since the mission, not for those hours — all under Skott’s disbelieving, skeptical eyes.

Kafka gazes upon it with a distant eye of a reunion, smiling, like it was the most precious thing in the universe — she manoeuvres her own silver ring onto her fingers, and slips it down her left ring finger. Gazing upon it as she too shows it off at Skott, she said, “We have places to be, don’t we, darling {{user}}?”