Sangdo raises his hand to knock on the door beside the fireplace but his thoughts trail away at the sight of the cold hearth.  The rain earlier had brought a chill into the hangar.  Kneeling onto one leg, he pokes at the cinders, grabbing new logs from the pile beside the mantle.  In a few moments, rubbing his hands together, he has a small fire started.  While he watches the flame roll over itself he hears a voice slide under the door.

“The boys haven’t reported any new disappearances.”

Hojoon leans against P Goon’s desk and spins the small silver globe beside him.

P Goon is sitting as he always does in the chair he had once pulled from behind the desk and never moved back.  He prefers the view it gives him.  He can see Hojoon and the closed door without directly looking at either.  “Is that supposed to be reassuring?” 

Hojoon is silent, forcing P Goon to throw his gaze at him.  The other’s raised eyebrow says he is not deigning to respond.  P Goon suppresses a growl in his throat and tries again, “Are you telling me he’s stopped?”

“Not likely.  He’s probably started taking people without connections.  The kind no one would notice—”

His words are broken by P Goon slamming his fist into the arm of the chair.  The dull thud is intensified by the rattling of the more delicate objects in the room.  “Funny that you know him so well but you can’t track him down.”

The accusatory words are muffled by the time they travel under the closed door.   Sangdo lowers his hand back to his side a second time.

Hojoon’s voice is masked with an unfamiliar sense of conviction.  “There’s only so much I can do until more news turns up.  It’s been years.”

“Then you should have done something years ago instead of allowing that filth to infect my city.  Then you wouldn’t have to wait for news.”

The conversation has moved into territory unfamiliar to Sangdo but it makes him ill at ease.  There is a long pause and he bends his ear to the room.

“I had reason to think the problem would fix itself when I left.   I would have ended it then if I knew.”  Hojoon is highly focused on the globe he once more sends spinning. “I appreciate that you’ve been willing to help me so far, Sehyuk, but I won’t blame you change your mind.  I work fine on my own.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.  I’ll help you clean up your mess.   P Goon almost sounds offended by the implication. “No use boring each other with empty news.”  He changes the subject with a distracted wave of his hand at the air. “What about Hyosang?”  

Hojoon notices P Goon kneading his fingernails into his palm.  He keeps his eyes on the other’s hand while he answers, “Hyosang hasn’t touched base recently.”

“Then what good is he?” P Goon barks, surging to his feet. 

“Maybe this isn’t a good time.” Hojoon no longer leans against the desk. 

“I’m fine,” P Goon dismisses, “I want to know how Sangdo brings home a stray with direct ties to the Boyscouts but we don’t hear a damn word about the kid from Hyosang beforehand.  Hyosang isn’t so stupid that he wouldn’t notice there’s a kid with blond hair running around in the group he’s supposed to be keeping both eyes on.  He isn’t contacting us because Jin is up to something he knows I wouldn’t like.  I don’t like the timing of any of this, especially that kid showing up.”

“Hyosang may have been waiting to make a move until he was positive that the kid was one of us,” Hojoon pacifies.  “And I promise you that Hansol isn’t a threat.”

“Like you thought your old partner wasn’t a threat.”

Sangdo can barely sound the depth of the silence that descends behind the closed door.

With a measured voice, Hojoon redirects, “It’s possible Kidoh doesn’t have anything to report.” 

P Goon starts to pace like he’s trying to shake off the words trailing after him.  “I’ve got him sitting on one of the most volatile groups in this Godforsaken place.  He’s got news to share; he’s just chosen to keep it to himself.  Jin is well aware that Hyosang is one of mine, we have our agreements, but Hyosang won’t do against him and he knows it.  I don’t like my people having mixed loyalties.”

“Kidoh proved his loyalty a long time ago.”  It’s a reminder more than a correction.

“There’s no sense of true loyalty anymore.”  P Goon stops here, turning to address Hojoon directly.  “That’s the problem with this place.  Lest we forget this is my city.”

“I remember,” Hojoon says gently. 

“People inherited fear of me for years but they don’t remember why anymore.  Now strangers and punk kids come around and think they can make a big showing and undermine my authority.  There’s no order, no sense of respect.    I built this place from nothing!”

Hojoon holds up his hands in a peacemaking gesture, wary of the bite that is entering P Goon’s words. “Sehyuk, why don’t you take a seat for now.” His words are so subtle they barely disturb the air but when they reach P Goon something dark flashes across his face and he sweeps his hands across the desk. 

“I will not take orders from you!”

Hojoon remains still as books and ornaments crash to the floor in front of him.  The silver globe breaks free of its stand and rolls into the door with a thud.

P Goon has both hands planted on the desk now, head hanging low, all power stolen from him.

Hojoon comes forward and rests a hand on P Goon’s arm.  He can feel the tension bundled in the other’s muscles.  “Sehyuk.”

P Goon shakes the hand away, his voice rough as he snarls, “Don’t.”  The warning voices both concern and a threat.  The leader drags himself around and falls heavily into his chair, leaving Hojoon with the imprint of his friend’s pupils narrowed into slits.  His eyes graze the desk and catch the series of long gouges in the wood—old scars.

“Wizard.”

Hojoon turns to the man sitting at a twisted angle in the chair.  His voice sounds deeper, with overtones like metal being scraped over coals.

“Old friend,” Hojoon responds.  He can practically see smoke leaving the other’s nostrils.  The anger isn’t directed at him but he knows how quickly that could change.

“Don’t you think it’s time these people learned?  I built this city, I can just as easily destroy it.”

There’s a knock at the door. 

“Come in,” the man summons with that strange voice.  He settles into the chair now like a throne.

The silver globe rocks a few times as it is pushed away by the door opening into the room.  The door opens slowly, as if the person is aware that something would be resting against it.

“Hey,” Sangdo greets, taking time to shut the door quietly.  “What’s up?”

Hojoon responds, “A chat between old friends.”

A quick understanding passes between them. 

“The wizard has lost his touch.  He didn’t sense you coming.”

Flashing a smile, Sangdo turns to the man in the chair, “You’re one to talk since you didn’t either.”

“We did,” he says back lowly. 

Sangdo wonders if the other knew how long he was outside the door. 

Hojoon’s eyes go straight to P Goon’s nails digging into the chair. “Steady,” he warns.

Sangdo simply steps forward over a book and a paperweight to crouch at the foot of the leader’s chair, looking closely at his eyes.   The dark pupils are growing and shrinking like someone is playing with a flashlight in front of his face. 

“Off day?”

“The top of my desk is scattered around the room.”  The voice that answers is somehow more like P Goon’s. 

Sangdo nods steadily then adds, “That tends to happen on good days, too.”  He cracks another smile and is rewarded by P Goon loosening his hold on the arm of the chair.  Deciding he can push his luck, Sangdo adds lowly, “You know, it’s worse when you don’t sleep.”

P Goon leans dangerously close, his pupils narrowing almost into slits. “You are not my keeper.”

Meeting the unnerving gaze, he answers, “Obviously.  We all know that’s Hojoon’s job.”

There is a growl so threatening and low it seems to come from everywhere at once.   Sangdo feels the floor dip as Hojoon moves a step closer.  P Goon’s eyes flick up at him.

“I am under control,” the leader says impatiently, going to stand.  As if his own body is in disagreement he slams back down into the chair.   There is a frustrated yell from P Goon followed by Sangdo hissing between his teeth.

 “Everyone good? Hojoon questions, pausing halfway through a step as things reach a moment of calm.

“Been better.”  P Goon responds.

“I figured,” Sangdo quips.  His voice seems strained.  All at once P Goon realizes that his right hand is grasping the arm of the chair enough to turn his knuckles white and his left hand is gripping Sangdo’s arm hard enough to draw blood.

“Hojoon,—” he starts to command, snapping his hand away.

“Everything’s fine.” Sangdo moves his arm back from sight.  “Our focus is on getting the ornery medieval creature calm.”

“We are calm,” P Goon snarls unconvincingly, pupils narrowing sharply.

Sangdo hears Hojoon move again.  The older grabs him gently by the arm and guides him back a step.  Coming up close by his ear he mumbles, “Let me bring him down first.”  Sangdo sighs, knowing Hojoon is right.  There’s no point in him trying anymore once they’ve reached this point.   He considers himself close to P Goon.  They are, for lack of better terms, of the same species.  But while he may have known P Goon for years, Hojoon has known him for ages.

Hojoon drags a plastic crate out from behind the desk and flips it over so he can sit in front of the leader.

Sangdo goes and sits on top of the cleared desk.

“Are you worried, old friend?”  P Goon asks

“No,” Hojoon says neutrally.  “You two have your agreements.”

When he is certain the other two are preoccupied he rolls up his sleeve, looking at the puncture wounds dotting his arm.  They have bled a bit but his shirt is dark enough that it isn’t too noticeable.  Setting his jaw, he places his whole hand over the marks.  Covering a hiss of pain with a deep inhale, he waits a moment before removing his hand, looking over the cauterized wounds.  Satisfied, he rolls his sleeve back down and tunes into the hypnotizing, low conversation between the other two.

Sangdo feels no different than he did outside the door.  There’s a distance between him and the conversation.

 “What’s changed?” Hojoon is asking.

“Nothing,” the leader huffs, “Does it never bore you—feeling the world spin on its axis?”

“Sometimes, I suppose.  But something is bothering you.”

“If you are concerned about our wellbeing you needn’t be.  I exist to protect him.”  

“He is under no threat here.”

The silence is long enough that Sangdo can wonder at every small expression that twitches under the surface of the leader’s face.

“Right?”

“Of course.”

Sangdo isn’t sure exactly when P Goon’s voice began to sound normal again.

“Back again, Sehyuk?”

After a long pause in which he painfully clenches and unclenches his hand, P Goon says, “The fact that I haven’t punched you is a good sign.”

Sangdo slides off the desk. “I think you need to go burn down a peasant village, kidnap a princess. . .I find that really gets the energy out.”  He knows they’ve moved into his territory again when P Goon scoffs something close to a laugh.

Feeling encouraged, Sangdo walks over to tap Hojoon’s shoulder, gesturing to switch.  The dragon won’t speak to him but Sehyuk will.  Hojoon readily surrenders the spot to him.

P Goon is still clenching and unclenching his left hand, so Sangdo doesn’t have to wait to ask where to start.  Ss he sets about lifting his hand from the armrest and finding the first pressure point at the joint where his thumb meets his hand, he teases, “This is a pretty nice deal you’ve got here.  Getting waited on hand and foot.  Like the old days, huh?”  

Whatever answer P Goon might have made is covered by a hiss of complaint. 

“Found it,” Sangdo says, keeping pressure at P Goon’s wrist for a moment.  It wasn’t like the tension was the cause of the problem, but it built up along the way:  both a warning sign and an aftereffect.  Hojoon could probably have done this part to some extent more efficiently with his particular ability but sometimes that triggered an aftershock.  That more volatile part of P Goon’s being was not a fan of other people’s magic. 

“So today was interesting,” Sangdo jests, continuing to flex P Goon’s fingers before working his way up his arm, “Is it the full moon tonight or something?”

“It’s the new moon in three days,” Hojoon answers automatically , starting to pick up a few of the books and restoring them to the top of the desk.

“Of course, it’s the new moon that does it,” P Goon jokes back in what is an encouragingly human way, though his voice is still raw.  The older grimaces occasionally as Sangdo tries to track down and work out the remaining knots of tension.  He notices the way Sangdo is favoring the use of his left arm.  “Sorry,” he adds, gesturing with his head toward the holes in Sangdo’s sleeve. 

Sangdo dismisses the apology immediately, “We dragon liners have thick skin.  Won’t even be a scar by tomorrow.”  He shares the words like an inside joke.

Seogoong strolls unannounced into the room.  No one pauses in what they’re doing and his only response as he takes in the disorder is a slightly impressed expression before he announces, “So here’s where everyone’s been hiding.  I came back from night-watch and literally no one was in their rooms.”

“Except Jenissi,” Hojoon asks and clarifies at the same time.

“Well duh,” Seogoong says, “you saw him earlier.  No way he was going to be up.”

“Did he see something?” P Goon asks.

“Just colors,” Hojoon says a bit quickly. 

Sangdo’s words interrupt the look P Goon is giving the other.  “Xero was asleep too, right?  I put Hansol in the room with him.”

“Xero, yes.  Hansol, no.”

Sangdo’s eyebrows knit together and he turns to Hojoon.  The other is already focusing.  “I sent him back to his room earlier.  He’s in the house still. . .  it’s hard to tell where, I haven’t anchored to him yet.  He might be with Gohn.  Gohn is up.”

“This is what I’m saying,” Seogoong adds.  “It’s nearly 3 a.m. and no one in this old tin can is asleep.”

“Why would Hansol be with Gohn?”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Hojoon tries to ameliorate Sangdo’s concerns.  “If he’s still in the Hangar there shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Tell me about him.”

Sangdo looks at P Goon to try to figure out exactly what he should say.  He starts cautiously. “Well, he’s a street kid.  He was sitting out in the rain today and looked like he might have needed some help.  He can read emotions.  Apparently draws on energy to do so.  That’s most of what I’ve got so far.  Ah, and Xero took it upon himself to fill the kid in on the situation here.  Don’t know how well a job he did but the kid pretty much passed out afterward he was so tired so I didn’t want to bother him anymore tonight.”

“Guess that means he’s stuck with us,” Seogoong comments.

“Not necessarily,” Hojoon responds.  “There are plenty of people out there in this city who know about us. And plenty of people like us who want no part of our business.  If he doesn’t want to stay we won’t make him.”

“Oh come on.” Sangdo’s expression is troubled. “You’re not suggesting we let him go back out there.  When I found him the kid looked like—”             

Seogoong interrupts, “Guys, I meant that Xero will literally not let him leave if he’s gotten attached.”

“Oh.”

“That’s very true.”

“So none of you knew about the Boyscout thing.”

Hojoon and Sangdo both stop and turn to P Goon, their mouths open like they are going to start an excuse until they notice that they’re both doing it.

“What Boyscout thing?” Seogoong asks.

“Hansol might have had a red bandana on when I found him,” Sangdo admits.

“And Jenissi might have mentioned something about it before our meeting in the livingroom.” Hojoon adds.

The tightness at the corners of P Goon’s mouth betrays his attempts to hide amusement.  “Can’t trust anyone nowadays, can I?”  

“I mean, I didn’t know,” Seogoong offers as consolation.

“As long as it doesn’t cause any problems with our relations to that group I’m sure it won’t matter.  I need Hyosang in here in the next few days, though.  I don’t like the silence from that part of town.”

“Xero and I will swing that way tomorrow and see if we can get a message to him.” 

P Goon nods at Seogoong then clears his throat lightly, making purposeful eye contact with Hojoon. “And if someone could inform the new recruit that he is, uh, welcome to remain here for the time being.”

“I’m not enabling you,” Hojoon says, “you want to apologize you do it.”

P Goon shifts his gaze to Sangdo who suddenly remembers, “Oh, isn’t it my turn to go on watch? Man, too bad I can’t stick around and figure out what you’re talking about.  Bye guys.”

He pops his head back around the door frame to add, “But seriously, if you freaked the kid out fix it.”

Seogoong looks at Sangdo as he escapes the room and suddenly announces, “I have to head to bed, actually.  Work in the morning, you know? Night!”

After they are gone, Hojoon walks over and picks up the paperweight that was resting near P Goon’s feet.  “Some days it’s not so bad feeling the world spin, huh?”  With a parting smile, he goes and places the paperweight back on the desk.  “Actually go to bed, tonight, will you?”

“Goodnight,” P Goon says to the other when he leaves the room. 

Sitting in the silence for a moment, P Goon clenches and unclenches his hand then spots something silver in the shadow of the room.  He gets up and walks over to find the globe.  He picks it up and tosses it between his hands for a moment before restoring it to its righted stand on his desk. 

A/N  Bit of a longer chapter this time.  Thank you, as always, for reading!  Let me know if anything was confusing or feel free to drop a critique/comment. -coraroc