Besca watched Follen closely. He had a particular way of dealing with confrontation, depending on who it was and how much they knew. She’d never seen him faced with an accusation he couldn’t skirt, be it by lack of evidence or quality of his “[i]character[/i]”. She’d never forget the first time she’d cornered him after Westwel. It had been right here on the Aerie, at the great window in the observatory. She’d asked him who he was, and watched his amicable façade slough away, watched his eyes go hollow, and saw for the first time that her friend was dead. He’d been indistinguishable from the void behind him. 

But this was different. He wasn’t being confronted with anything more terrible than what she’d done, and he knew it. There was no need to drop the mask.

“[color=lightblue]I do know where she was, yes,[/color]” he said, meeting her accusatory tone with one that was at once innocent and repentant. “[color=lightblue]I’m afraid the orders for her arrest came down while I was mid-procedure. Besca alerted me, and I had just enough time to lock the doors to the OR so I could finish up. They would have brought her down there with her leg stapled shut, still riddled with growths.[/color]”

His eyes flicked to Besca. She grimaced but didn’t object; he was speaking the truth. It was a harsh truth, but those seemed to be his favorite. Follen thrived in the worst, most hopeless situations, but not in the way a hero would. Rather, he attended his duty with the unflinching resolve of a headsman. 

Pulling a small pen-like device from his pocket, he crouched down to look up at Roaki. She turned her head away, but he held the thing up to her and she didn’t bat at it. There was a small beep. He turned it towards him, reading from a tiny screen on its length. 

“[color=lightblue]The chill hasn’t done her any favors, I don’t think. We had to flush the modium out of her system, and judging by the sweating, I’m going to guess that my advice for pain medication went ignored.[/color]” He looked up at them, namely to Besca. “[color=lightblue]I don’t suppose the Board has had a sudden change of heart.[/color]”

Besca shook her head. 

“[color=lightblue]Well, I can get her a bed tonight, but it’s not going to do her much good if she ends up right back down there tomorrow.[/color]”

She glanced down at Quinn, then to the slumped, quiet form of Roaki. She sighed. “[color=gray]You’re officially under orders to keep her here. If anyone comes to get her, you tell them to call me. I’ll handle the Board.[/color]”

“[color=lightblue]Sure, commander,[/color]” he said, a smile on his lips. “[color=lightblue]And the prosthetics?[/color]”

Again she paused, thought. Breathed. “[color=gray]Measurements are fine. Do it yourself, and don’t list it.[/color]”

“[color=lightblue]Yes ma’am, measurements only,[/color]” he said, and then winked at Quinn. “[color=lightblue]Though I do a bit of tinkering in my spare time. There could be some…coincidental overlap.[/color]”

Besca wasn’t sure how she felt about the idea of Roaki running around Aerie Station with high-end prosthetics. But, that was a worry for another time—hopefully a very distant time. “[color=gray]That’ll be all,[/color]” she said, turning to leave. “[color=gray]Goodnight.[/color]”

Follen rose up, nodded. “[color=lightblue]Goodnight, you two.[/color]”