from a fire burning long ago [Shrimp]

He's half tempted to head straight to the Justice Building afterwards. He imagines himself standing face-to-face against her and the family she worked with, chest puffed out and chin high like his father or uncles would stand when they did business with people. A deal's a deal, he'd say in that deep authoritative voice, that made sure everyone knew Father was an important person not to be trifled with. I paid you, and you promised to fix it.

Do you not see the fifty or so Peacekeepers? Bette's voice echoes in his mind, the word idiot hanging unspoken from her lips. He must be patient - this he has been taught; must not be like the boys year after year who rushed forward intent on glory only to die from some lower-district spear. He must be patient, he thinks, as the straps of the backpack dig into his shoulders, the weight of the mysterious machine sitting guiltily within. The few days after the reaping were always busy days for the Lumiere family; there would be no time to slip out and confront the Sublinos, or even to replace the machine in the well-hidden catacombs where they kept a section of the excerpt texts.

But it was hard to be patient, with the massive box buried beneath a pile of clothing in his room, a ticking time bomb until the day one of his brothers might dig through his things and come across it. It was too awkward, too bulky, impossible to hide for long and impossible to explain were it to be discovered - "so you like books?" Adonis would scoff, and he's seen how they treat his cousin Axinite when he puts calculations before strength - he spends these days eyeing his older brothers and cousins like hawks, desperate to reassure himself that his machine would be safe from them.

He finally manages to find an opportunity a couple days before the bloodbath - his brothers are all at training, his sister off gallivanting who-knows-where. He does one last check around the house before he settles the backpack around his shoulders and heads off at a brisk walk - there's a considerable distance to cover, between the Lumiere mansion and where the Sublinos set themselves up, and he must hurry, if he is to return before drawing suspicion.

Well. People expected Aoife to be late, half the time. They expected him to be punctual, and if there was one thing he'd learned from his family, it was that being what they expected of him made him invisible.

(Sometimes, he wishes he wasn't so invisible.)

The girl that answers the door looks just like Bette, he thinks, thick dark hair that frames eyes holding suspicion. But that's what he's here for - to remind them of their promise.

"Good afternoon," he greets the girl, inwardly cursing the way his voice cracks midway through his sentence, half a man's and half a young boy's. He pauses, swallows, and continues - at least his words, he decides, must continue to be no less professional and well-mannered. "I've brought the device as well as the remainder of the money, as was requested."