"Waiting for Ortega," you say, quite honestly.
"That figures." You can see Steel's shoulders relax, and he steps inside, heading for the fridge. "I thought I told Herald not to let you roam around unsupervised."
"Unsupervised?" You sit down at the table, making yourself a smaller, nonthreatening target. Not that it matters, Steel nearly matches you in height since his latest modifications. You doubt that he's intimidated by you physically. "Afraid that I'm going to raid your fridge? Or sell the secret that someone's not been doing the dishes?"
"That's no secret. That's Herald." This time the sigh is audible, and the frown is aimed at the stack of dirty dishes piled in the sink. Someone has eaten dinner recently. Messily.
"I like that you can still make a joke."
"It wasn't a joke." Steel gives you a look that, for once, is closer to neutral. Are you an ally in his fight against sloppiness?
"Huh," you say, wondering whether you should take this chance to connect. It couldn't hurt trying to break some of the ice between you.
"Good job trying to shift the blame," you joke. "Is Herald the closest thing you have to an intern?"
"That's not…" It takes a moment for Steel to catch up, but when he does, the sigh is heavy enough to be audible. "You were joking. Of course."
"Of course," you say, the picture of innocence. "I know you're too neat to tolerate a mess."
"It's simply easier to clean it right away," he says, looking a little awkward.
"You don't need to explain yourself, you know? It's not a moral failing to do the dishes." You can't help but smile at the look on his face.
"Hmm…" You're not sure what kind of look that is, but it's different from what you usually see carved on Steel's scarred face.
"What?"
"Maybe I have been a bit unfair to you." He speaks the words slowly, reluctantly. But he's sincere; you don't get the feeling he's trying to deceive you.
"Maybe?" you ask, one eyebrow raised to underline your point.
"I just don't like mysteries." Turning his back to you, he opens the fridge, grabbing a squeeze bottle. He briefly checks the date before turning back to face you.
"I think you make me seem more mysterious than I really am." What is in that bottle? Something nutritious and horrible tasting if you're reading the look on his face correctly as he takes a pull. "I mean, if you compare me to Lady Argent, I—"
"I didn't say I was comfortable with her either," he interrupts, sitting down at the table across from you. The chair protests under his considerable weight, but the furniture here is built for his use.
"Hah! I was right. I recognize your dour looks by now; I've seen enough of them."
"That's not something to be proud of," Steel sighs, but there's no bite in his words.
"For either of us, I should say." You empty your cup.
"This feels all too familiar." He takes another pull from the bottle, followed by another grimace.
"Yes," you agree.
"Maybe every team will have a troublemaker." His thoughts still circle Argent, buzzards trying to judge the shape on the ground. Dead or alive? An issue that is real or invented? An opening it would be a shame not to take.
"Are you mad at Argent or at yourself?" You keep your tone neutral. "I know they tried to keep it out of the papers, but you were involved in that terror bombing, right? The politician's place?" You don't namedrop Lou Carter, but you can feel his wince. "Running around on your own doesn't sound like you."
"You're not wrong," he admits, and that's a first. "The mayor asked me to play bodyguard for a night. She learned that there might be an attempt on his life."
"Huh." You can't help the surprised look on your face; you didn't expect him to share it this easily. Probably because there's been enough speculation already. "You're not a bodyguard."
"The circumstances were…complicated." There it is, the evasiveness you're so used to. "And I didn't expect Garrett Helton X to show up."
"So, did you ever figure out who blew up the place?"
"Garrett Helton X." There's certainty in his voice, anger in his mind. He'll get them eventually. Is that why he was so annoyed with Argent? That she didn't involve him, and once more you managed to slip away?