HEART OF GOLD | CORIOLANUS SNOW

𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙋𝙏𝙀𝙍 30

"I'm sure you understand," said Charon Thread.

"Of course," replied Coriolanus.

It was not him who would not understand.

The station commander nodded curtly and gestured forward. Coriolanus obliged to be escorted back to the base's main holding area, which was a fluorescent-lit space with zero character. Against the blinding white walls, the enlisted, who had, to their credit, maintained their uniforms in the prescribed shade, were mere outlines, their virtually shadowless silhouettes marked most starkly by their visors, black and gleaming with the reflections of their cohorts. In short, they blended well into their surroundings—unlike Lilith Gold.

True to her name, his apprentice drew attention as shining metal would amongst earth. Her choices weren't particularly bold, Coriolanus reckoned, but in this washed out expanse, they might as well have been. From her body language, it was evident that she realized how outstanding—and not in the correct way—she was: Her arms had curled around her middle as if to shield her polka dotted chest, not that it was in any way effective. Her fingers clawing at her elbows constituted only a small portion of her constant fidgeting as she glanced around uneasily. When Lilith spotted Coriolanus, though, her manner was transformed.

For the first time, her eyes, now fixed on him, bore the awe he had grown to expect of onlookers. He debated internally if it was earned as a result of being the only other coloured figure in the room, or whether the alleged fashion enthusiast was wonderstruck by the craft with which his service uniform had been sewn. Then, it occurred to him.

Why do you care? he asked himself. What does it matter? And why couldn't she be admiring you?

Coriolanus was quite aware of how he was regarded by the opposite sex. Before Lilith had acted all upset by the apprenticeship award, she, like many a female, had shown interest, too. Indeed, she had been more than interested. She was plotting something. Something he had still to discover but something—he was convinced—nevertheless. If the uniform, in fact, facilitated the shedding of her masquerade, Coriolanus would run with it. Now that she was slipping, it was the perfect opportunity to test her pretense, for it would have to be rock solid in the face of what was coming next.

Thread had peeled off back to his office in the passage before, as if being physically distanced from the scene might accomplish his wishful disassociation from what he deemed a reckless and dispensable endeavor. Coriolanus could sympathize with the man: There were many aspects of this undertaking he would have done differently, or simply without. Be that as it may, he could not deny the efforts spent to pull it off. If nothing else, the long hours and late nights had proven Lilith's determination.

To what end, now, that was the question.

Having committed himself at home by Strabo's bed, Coriolanus had been absent for most of the weekend; he'd counted on the common sense of her teammates to keep her inexperience in check. So, if she had hoped for his company under the guise of work, disappointment was her only reward. If her goal, however, had been to impress him with her diligence, he regretted to admit that she had succeeded. Still, he considered the ability to recognize his mistake, as opposed to sinking deeper and unknowingly into her spell, a good sign.

Flashing a smile that was warm but still befitting a superior—and a Snow—he sauntered up to the teen. He was within arm's length when she gave a little start, as if his approach had suddenly and only just dawned on her. Hastily, she straightened up and chirped out a good morning.

"Morning," echoed Coriolanus. He eyed the girl for a moment longer than was necessary, relishing her nervousness skyrocket under his gaze. "Is everything ready?"