Veil of the forsaken.

"Cure."

Andrew sat on the edge of the platform outside the labs, his long coat draped around him like a shield against the evening chill. A worn leather notebook rested on his lap, pages filled with hastily scribbled equations and half-finished theories. His pen hovered above the page, tapping rhythmically as he chewed on a piece of dry bread, lost in thought.

He hadn't looked up when Lady approached—he never did when he was focused—but when she quietly lowered herself beside him, he let out a small sigh.

"You're quiet today," she said gently.

"I'm always quiet," he muttered, flipping a page.

She hummed in amusement, leaning back on her palms. "More than usual."

Andrew let the silence settle between them for a moment, eyes scanning his notes, though he barely processed the words. Finally, he exhaled, closing the book with a soft thump.

"I'm running out of ideas," he admitted. "I've gone through every possible sequence, every combination, and nothing—nothing—is getting me closer."

Lady glanced at the notebook in his hands, then at him. "Still searching for the cure?"

He gave a short nod. "For her." His voice was quieter now, almost hesitant. "I don't even know if she's still alive."

Lady watched him carefully, the way his fingers curled slightly around the book, the tension in his jaw.

Andrew never talked about his little sister, not really. Everyone knew he had one, that he had been looking for a cure for years, but beyond that, the details were scarce.

"You haven't heard anything?" she asked softly.

He shook his head. "No records, no sightings. Just...nothing. Like she was never there to begin with."

Lady pressed her lips together. "But you still believe she's alive."

Andrew's grip on the notebook tightened. "I have to."

Lady looked away for a moment, watching the dim glow of the hideout lights flicker against the metal walls.

"Hope is exhausting, isn't it?" she murmured.

Andrew let out a breath that was almost a laugh. "You have no idea."

She turned back to him, a small, understanding smile on her lips. "I do."

For once, he met her gaze.

There was something reassuring about Lady's presence—like standing beside a lighthouse in a storm. She didn't drown him in empty reassurances or pointless optimism. She just listened.

After a long pause, Andrew broke eye contact first, looking down at his book. Then, without much thought, he tore the dry piece of bread in half and held a piece out to her.

She blinked at it.

He raised an eyebrow. "Don't be picky, it's all I've got."

Lady chuckled and took it. "Generous as ever, I see."

"Don't get used to it," he muttered, but there was the slightest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

And for now, that was enough. As Andrew and Lady shared the moment of silence, the soft rustle of footsteps on the metal platform broke the stillness. Mugsi, ever the loud and vibrant presence, sauntered over with his usual grin plastered across his face, his hands shoved casually into the pockets of his jacket. His boots echoed against the ground as he approached, and the faint sound of a can popping open could be heard before he even reached them.

"Well, well, well," Mugsi said, taking in the scene with a raised eyebrow. "Look who's out here getting all sentimental." He perched himself on the edge of the platform next to Andrew, unceremoniously kicking his feet up onto the ledge. "Do I need to get a tissue for you two, or is it safe to join in?"

Andrew rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress the slight smirk that tugged at his lips. "Mugsi, you're the last person I need a tissue from."

Mugsi chuckled and leaned back, cracking open the can he'd been holding—soda, of course. "Ah, don't mind me. Just here to brighten the mood." He tipped the can toward Andrew. "Got any spare research notes to drown this thing in?"

Andrew, for the first time in a while, let out a genuine laugh. "Maybe if I wasn't busy trying to save my sister, I could write you some."

Lady, watching the exchange, smiled faintly, the playful banter offering a subtle but much-needed break from the tension. Mugsi was good at that—making light of the heavy.

"So," Mugsi continued, suddenly leaning forward with exaggerated curiosity, "what's the state of your latest breakthrough? Did you discover how to bring people back from the dead, or are you still stuck in the 'miracle cure' phase?"

Andrew hesitated, the humor fading from his eyes as he glanced at Lady. She gave him a small, encouraging nod before he replied. "I'm still working on it," he muttered, then added with a touch of dry humor, "But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't close to throwing the book at it and just going with my gut."

Mugsi snorted, shaking his head in mock dismay. "Well, as long as it's not my gut you're following, you'll be fine." He paused, his smile faltering for a second. "You know... you don't always have to do it alone, right?"

The words hung in the air for a moment.

Andrew didn't look at him immediately, but Lady caught the change in his posture—the slight shift as if he were processing something heavier than the equations in front of him. Finally, after a beat, he nodded, but only slightly.

"Yeah," he muttered, his voice quieter now. "I know."

Mugsi leaned back again, cracking a smile. "Good. Just remember that next time you're in your lab, being all brooding and science-y." He took a swig from his can, eyes glinting. "Maybe even share some of those research notes if you're feeling generous."

Andrew gave a half-hearted shrug. "Maybe."

Lady glanced over at him, her expression unreadable, but there was a hint of something soft in her eyes.

"Alright, alright," Mugsi interjected, sensing the moment needed a change in pace. "Enough of the serious stuff. I'm here for fun today, not deep conversations. We can get back to the brooding later."

Andrew sighed, a small smile creeping onto his face. "You never stop, do you?"

"Stop?" Mugsi feigned shock. "My friend, I am the definition of relentless." He looked over at Lady with a mischievous grin. "And you—" He leaned in as if sharing a secret. "Are the best thing that's happened around here. Ever."

Lady raised an eyebrow but didn't break her calm demeanor. "Is that so?"

Mugsi shrugged nonchalantly. "Just stating the obvious, no need to thank me." He clinked his can against her shoulder lightly. "So, what do you say, you ready to take a break from all the heavy, and maybe grab something to eat? I hear the cafeteria's got some of that mystery meat today. It's practically a delicacy."

Andrew chuckled, shaking his head. "You're a walking disaster, Mugsi."

Mugsi leaned back, unbothered by the comment. "Yeah, but I'm your disaster."

Lady let out a soft laugh, her first real one of the day. The sound was light, but it carried a sense of relief—a temporary escape from the weight of everything that had been weighing on all of them.

"Alright, alright," she said, glancing at both men. "Let's get something to eat. But you're paying, Mugsi."

"Of course I am," Mugsi said with a wink, hopping up from the edge of the platform. "I'm the one making all the important decisions here."

As the three of them walked off together, the weight of Andrew's research and his endless search for a cure seemed to lessen—just a little. With Lady beside him and Mugsi's constant, irritating presence, the world felt a little less heavy, even if only for the moment.

End of part.