<strong>Location</strong>: ADAMS Headquarters (First Haven, Watcher’s Island). The Pilot’s Barracks - Cafeteria<br/><strong>Date</strong>: 5 January 2099. Monday<br/><strong>Time</strong>: Morning<br/><strong>Who</strong>: Ian Harker<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Ian remembered Cy too. He’d known Cy since before the guy had been promoted to an ace, though Cy was a little older than him and he’d been in the program longer. But there was a big difference between knowing<em>of</em>someone and actually knowing them as an actual person. Ian only knew of Cy as a pilot and as someone who lived where he lived, ate where he ate, and breathed the same air he breathed. That fostered a sense of familiarity and camaraderie, but it wasn’t personal. And there were the rumors. Ian didn’t put much faith in gossip, but he’d learned rumors had some truth in them, even if they were all twisted up and mostly wrong.<br/><br/>He didn’t really know Cy and Cy didn’t really know him. But if Cy was back for good than there was a good chance they were going to be sitting together inside of Unit 03-Sariel at some point. And if that happened Ian would prefer it not be awkward. Though if Ian was being a hundred percent honest with himself it was also because he wanted to size up Cy too. He’d fucked up on his last mission and gotten his co-pilot killed. Almost gotten himself killed too. And that wasn’t a rumor – that was a solid indisputable fact. The ADAMS docs and higher ups might have decided Cy was good to fight and be back inside the cockpit despite his history, but sometimes ADAMS was wrong. If Ian was going to be in Sariel with Cy at any point in the future he wanted to have some confidence that the guy wasn’t going to flip out or repeat past mistakes.<br/><br/>Ian doubted he could discern if Cy was trustworthy in those regards over one breakfast, but it was a start.<br/><br/><em>Fine</em>? That was interesting word to choose and Ian didn’t miss out the pause. His lips parted as he placed a large forkful of yellowed egg into his mouth and took his time chewing as he looked at Cy.<em>Fine my ass</em>. Ian lifted a dark eyebrow at Cy as he swallowed. “Hear me out for a second. If a bunch of spawn beat my ass, my co-pilot died on me, I lost an eye, and then I was expected to forget all that and go back to work I’d be the exact fucking opposite of fine, but whatever. If you wanna call that<em>fine</em>than you go ahead and do that.”<br/><br/>His words weren’t intentionally cruel or combative. That was just the way Ian was. He wasn’t one for bullshitting or being tactful when being upfront was so much quicker and honest. Ian could have been polite and let Cy’s delayed fine get glossed over as he took Cy’s bait to talk about himself. But he didn’t. Ian could have given Cy a sympathy frown or smile and parroted twenty different ways of giving his condolences, but Ian didn’t do that either. If Ian was in Cy’s situation he wouldn’t want any of that nonsense so he didn’t hand it out.<br/><br/>“So, what? I’m the first person to talk with you today? Can’t help but notice the – you know.” Ian dropped his elbow onto the edge of the table and lifted his empty fork up in the air. He spun it around in a circle to point out all the empty chairs around them.