<strong>Location</strong>: ADAMS Headquarters (First Haven, Watcher’s Island). The Pilot's Barracks<br/><strong>Date</strong>: 5 January 2099. Monday<br/><strong>Time</strong>: Afternoon<br/><strong>Who</strong>: Ian Harker<br/><br/><hr/><br/>“Yes, sir,” he replied as he mirrored Luke’s sharp stare. The glint in Ian’s brown eyes was liquid hot and his tone retained its weight. Somehow Ian managed to make such a short confirmation contain the exact same vitriol as<em>yeah-you-motherfucker</em>. For a moment it seemed like Ian was going to say something else to Luke. One corner of his mouth curled up and he moved his tongue inside his mouth without parting his lips. But whatever Ian might have wanted to say didn’t happen.<br/><br/>“If that’s all, sir,” Ian said to break the few seconds of silence that had settled between the three of them. Each sir that popped out of Ian's mouth was heavier than the last. He dropped one hand from his hoodie and lifted it to rub the back of his neck in gesture that looked casual, but was actually self-comforting. Yet Ian didn’t break eye contact with Luke. He wouldn't break eye contact first and refused to advert or drop his gaze. He wanted Luke to be the one to walk away from this. He wanted to see Luke turn his back first and run away just like he had the last time they’d talked.<br/><br/>Ian knew he should have just let it go and shrugged it all off, but he couldn't. And if threadbare subordination was the only way he could strike out against Luke without getting both of them in deep shit trouble than that was what he was going to do.