Dahlia, Perus, and Hex walked down the dimly lit hallway of the residential building within the base. The cold, metallic walls were painted a dull gray, occasionally broken up by room labels and sparse light fixtures. Their footsteps echoed faintly until they reached a door labeled B8.
Dahlia stopped, gesturing toward the door. "Here's your room. Enjoy."
Perus glanced at the door, his eyes widening with anxiety. "What? He's right next to me?"
"Yes, Perus, thank you for stating the obvious," Dahlia replied with a sigh, barely concealing her sarcasm. "He has to stay within 50 feet of you, remember?"
Perus grimaced. "Can't he be in another room within 50 feet of me?"
"Of course," she said dryly. "If you can find one, that is. I personally made sure this room was available."
Perus sighed in defeat, a reluctant frown on his face. "You cruel woman."
Hex clapped a hand over Perus's shoulder, grinning. "Nice to have you as a neighbor."
Dahlia glanced at them both. "Good, you're already bonding. Now, get some rest—we'll be heading to the ruins early tomorrow."
---
By evening, the sun had nearly set, casting a warm, orange glow through the high, narrow windows of the base. It was dinnertime, and Hex and Perus made their way to the dining hall, Hex sticking close to Perus like an unspoken shadow. They joined the queue, getting in line with other soldiers and personnel. When they reached the front, they were served a hearty bowl of pottage with tender cuts of venison floating in the thick broth.
The dining hall was bustling, filled with the sound of voices, the scrape of utensils, and the clatter of plates. Nearly every table was packed with people chatting and eating—except for one table near the corner. Dahlia sat alone, engrossed in a stack of paperwork, her focused gaze barely lifting from the pages. Hex and Perus exchanged a look, shrugged, and made their way to her table, settling into the empty seats across from her.
Hex couldn't resist commenting, a grin tugging at his lips. "You really don't have friends, do you?"
Dahlia looked up, one eyebrow raised. "I've only been here a few days. I'm not supposed to have friends."
Perus, shoveling food into his mouth, smirked. "It's not just that. She has a terrible personality, so no one likes her. I bet half the people here have a bone to pick with her."
Dahlia rolled her eyes. "I do not have a terrible personality!" She glanced around the room dismissively. "And they don't hate me—they barely even know me."
Hex, observing the people seated nearby, noticed that many were casting furtive glances at Dahlia's table and whispering among themselves. He closed his eyes, focusing. Ever since he'd returned to his normal form, his hearing had been sharper, far better than that of a human. Now, he let the distant murmurs filter in, picking up fragments of conversation.
"That bitch…"
"Who does she think she is?"
"She's so annoying… sheltered brat."
Hex opened his eyes, glancing at Dahlia with a cough to get her attention. "Sorry to burst your bubble, Dahlia, but Perus is right—they really don't like you."
She turned to him, frowning in irritation. "And what makes you say that?"
"Ever since I turned back, my hearing's been enhanced," Hex explained, keeping his tone light. "I can hear what they're saying from across the hall, and, well… let's just say a lot of them think you're a bitch."
Dahlia's expression darkened, her hands curling into fists. Suddenly, she rose, slamming her hands on the table. "Who said that?!"
The entire dining hall fell silent, heads snapping in her direction. For a moment, everyone was frozen, exchanging looks of confusion and alarm, wondering if she could really hear them. Dahlia scanned the room, her expression hardening as if a realization was dawning on her. She turned back to Hex, her eyes narrowing.
"Did you just say your hearing is enhanced? Why didn't you mention this sooner?" She leaned across the table, grabbing his ear with a sharp yank. "Is that all? Are any of your other senses enhanced? Does the food taste better or worse?"
Hex winced, irritation flashing across his face as he pulled her hand off his ear. "You're way too touchy," he muttered. "And no, food still tastes the same. I might've grown a little taller, but that's about it."
Dahlia released him, clearly dissatisfied with his answer. She sank back into her seat, folding her arms and raising her chin defiantly. "Fine. But if you notice any other changes, tell me." Her expression shifted, a menacing smile spreading across her face. "Now… could you point me in the direction of whoever called me a bitch?"
A cold sweat trickled down Hex's forehead. He cast a desperate glance at Perus, who was shaking his head furiously, practically pleading with his eyes for Hex not to say anything. Hex swallowed, his thoughts racing. "If I tell her, she'll probably murder them."
Both he and Perus ducked their heads simultaneously, attacking their food with renewed vigor, as if avoiding her gaze would make her forget her question.
"Hey! Don't ignore me. Tell me who said it!" Dahlia demanded, her voice insistent.
But they both kept their eyes glued to their bowls, beads of sweat forming on their brows as they focused on each bite, avoiding her glare.
---
Eventually, Hex managed to evade Dahlia's interrogation, and he and Perus made their way back down the quiet corridors to their rooms. The sun had fully set by now, and the base was cloaked in a calm, twilight silence. They reached their doors, exchanged good nights, and each retreated to their quarters.
Inside, Hex looked around, letting his eyes adjust to the dimly lit space. His room was small and functional, with gray walls, a narrow bed against the wall, a simple wooden desk, and a single chair. A small, round window let in the last slivers of moonlight, casting a faint glow across the room.
He sighed and flopped onto the bed, feeling the mattress give way beneath him. "It's been a while since I've slept on a bed" he thought to himself. He rubbed his wrist absentmindedly, the phantom ache of old chains lingering.
"I wonder what tomorrow has in store for me…" he murmured to himself, letting his eyes close as he drifted off into an uneasy sleep.