The rooftop settled into a working quiet.Sandra and Jessica had moved past the initial briefing and into the detailed architecture of the filings: which submission went first, which court, what sequence of arguments, and how each case's discovery process fed the others. They spoke in the shorthand of two people who had studied the same things in the same rooms once and whose professional instincts still moved in alignment even after years apart.Chris sat in his chair and listened without contributing.There was nothing for him to contribute. This was their territory, and they were good at it, and the best thing he could do was stay out of the way and let them work.He picked up his phone.He opened Binance quietly, the screen angled away from the table. He checked the SOL balance, the Solana he'd converted weeks ago, sitting steady. He initiated a conversion. A specific amount. Clean, direct, the kind of transaction he had done enough times now that the steps were automatic.He con

The teacher arrived at two minutes past the hour, and the class settled into its working rhythm.Chris opened his notebook and wrote the chapter heading from the board. The lesson moved at its normal pace, the teacher explaining, students writing, and the occasional question from someone near the front who actually wanted to understand rather than just pass.Tyler and his group were not there.Ten minutes in, the door opened.Tyler came in first, Emily beside him, Dominic and Seth behind them, two others trailing. They were mid-conversation when they entered, the conversation cutting off at the door the way it always did when they transitioned from corridor to classroom.Tyler's eyes moved across the room automatically.They found Chris.And something happened on his face that he covered in less than a second, but not fast enough, because Chris recognised it at first glanceSurprise. Genuine surpriseThe involuntary kind that arrived before the social mask could intercept it. His step

The table was silent as they all ate. Once Chris was done, he stood up with Bridget, and they headed back to class together. The class was still disorganised and almost empty, and only a few people were still in their seats, chatting away with their friends. Some had not gone for the break, and some, like Chris, had just returned from the cafeteria.Chris sat at his desk and opened the textbook to the chapter Jordan had flagged.He read three paragraphs.His phone vibratedHe checked it under the desk calmlyCamera alert. The corridor camera near the back stairwell.He opened the feed to check if it was just a false alarm of people passing that the camera had picked upNot a false alarm.This time, Tyler was there. His full group: Dominic, Seth, and two others, Emily slightly to the side. They were arranged in the loose semi-circle they always formed when Tyler was holding court, and Tyler was speaking. He could see each and every one clearly from the waist up, except Emily, whose

They went back to class before the siren even sounded. They got to class right in time to prepare for the next lecture.Class resumed shortly after. Chris sat silently throughout the entire length of the class.The bell rang, and the teacher closed his notes and walked out.Chris picked up his bag and stood up, ready to go out.He said goodbye to Bridget. She was packing her own bag, unhurried, and she returned the farewell with ease. Chris noted she had become a little more outspoken towards him, something she had developed over the last few days of talking and moving together"See you tomorrow," he said."See you," she replied.He was a step toward the door when Tyler moved.Tyler never did anything dramatic in a room. He simply appeared at the edge of Chris's path, and his group filled in around him, and the movement was casual enough that anyone watching would have thought it was just students converging after a class.Chris stopped.He looked at Tyler.Tyler looked at him with t

"The earliest I can properly remember," Chris said, "is about five years old."He looked at the table as he spoke, not at Sandra or Jessica, the way you look when you are pulling something from a distance and need to hold it steady while you carry it forward."The three of us," he said. "My father, me, James. James was about two, nearly three. My mother was already gone; she died when James was born, so I don't have a memory of her. Just photographs and what my father told me when I was old enough to ask."He paused."My father was a plumber," he said. "Private work, mostly. Contracted jobs on buildings, residential projects, and commercial properties for whoever needed the work done. He was good at it. Not wealthy-good, but reliable-good. The kind of tradesman that got repeat clients because he showed up and did what he said he would do."Sandra was writing. Jessica was looking at him with the quiet attention she gave everything important."We were not poor in the dramatic sense,"