I Can See For Miles (Regina)

[Aeron]

The relentless wails and screeches of assorted welding and cutting tools hit various octaves throughout the spacious aircraft assembly hangar, encasing it in a cacophony of shrill, eardrum-grating sounds. Puddles of oil and other kinds of lubricant were not uncommon here, and some of them often graced the crude concrete floor for days on end before being attended to accordingly. The miniature thoroughfares between each work station bustled with workers, and their capacity was nearing the maximum mark. This environment wreaked havoc on the five senses of anyone unfortunate enough to work here, and every single one of these unfortunate people were bound to it by Capitol law. To refuse such arduous labor was tantamount to pleading for a death sentence, or a permanent branding as an Avox. For District 6 was the sole manufacturing center for the Capitol’s transportation vehicles, and the all-powerful latter could not afford to be dissatisfied.

A few of the many workers assigned to this hangar were Aeron Volante and his humble family, although the former’s current status as Reaping age often emancipated him from the dangerous and otherwise limb-severing tasks. It was his last year of eligibility, luckily. Instead, he took to gathering lightweight supplies for his mother and father, which often resulted in a trek between two hangars. Today was no different, and his appearance emphasized that fact. Aeron, who had just returned to the hangar where his mother rivets screws onto the hulls and other parts of hoverplanes, toted an atypical appearance for his District, since his family was considered lower middle-class, often borderlining the improverished side, whereas the rest of the District was upper middle-class. This was because aircraft production was not nearly as lucrative as ground vehicle manufacturing. The assembly of the much-mentioned high-speed Capitol transit trains often brought in the bulk of the riches instead.

Aeron, however, found his muse in heavier-than-air flying machines. He had just finished delivering a pack of bolts to his mother for the second time today, since she had accidentally asked for the wrong size a few minutes prior. She was merely another victim of overwork. The wiry, scrawny teenage boy of seventeen had deduced that he needed a short break, as midday was steadfastly approaching, and the District’s output quota often mounted during that time period. Yet more requirements put forth by the Capitol. Therefore, Aeron needed to conserve what little energy was still dwindling in his body.

With a sharp intake of breath, Aeron groped for his canteen, which was already halfway empty. Without even bothering to peer inside, he drained another fourth of it, leaving an even more meager amount remaining. The water within it had become slightly stagnant during the morning hours, but it was still lukewarm in temperature and perfectly drinkable. Despite the contrast to the Capitol’s cool, authentic spring water, Aeron nonetheless savored the refreshment and newfound moisture residing in his mouth and throat. The dry stickiness that plagued both places had been suppressed for the time being. That sensation was commonplace in District 6’s workforce, and very few spoke in a positive light about it.

Placing the now-lighter canteen back on a nearby workbench, Aeron drew in another breath, this respiration much more clear in tone than the last one. He would allow himself a few more moments to regain his strength, and then return to work. As his back made contact with the hangar wall, a grimace began to form on his weathered face. Sweat still clung to him like beads of tree sap, and he had for the most part adhered his frayed flannel vest and t-shirt to his back from the dried perspiration. That too was a bothersome sensation. To add insult to injury, rain did not visit the District today. Though the hangar was roofed, it occasionally leaked from time to time during downpours. This was often considered a blessing by workers, and it posed no danger to the aircraft being conceived.

As the next several minutes passed, Aeron gradually came out of his fatigued state and back into a labor-ready state. The day was halfway gone, and he was ready to seize the end of it. But to get there, he had to see it through until then. He returned to his original position near his mother, who was now preparing a drill to affix the bolts to a completed plane hull. She spoke to him in the same tired tone, which was laced with stress, fatigue, and longing. Some of the workers called it a “worker’s accent”.

“Aeron, does your father have the next hull prepared? I’ll be done with this one shortly, and I need to keep moving. Otherwise I won’t be able to occupy myself.”

Aeron cocked his head slightly, and responded in an honest and curt manner. He hadn’t seen his father until earlier that morning, when he had claimed he needed no help.

“I suppose I’ll ask him,” Aeron responded concisely. “Surely he’d have something primed for us now.”

There were three aircraft assembly hangars in this section of District 6: one for building and fleshing out the plane parts, one for assembling them, and one for final revisions and painting. Each of these hangars were connected by tunnels, and they were often crowded. One had to maintain focus while in there, lest they bump into something being transported. That had happened once before, and the poor fellow had a concussion. He was out of work for weeks.

Aeron knew these tunnels by heart, and he knew where and when to dodge oncoming workers. The “traffic” often flowed on the right side of the tunnel, though occasionally rush deliveries weave through both sides in a slapdash and somewhat humorous manner. He began his trek to the adjacent first hangar, where his father was stationed. The tunnel was crowded, and he could assess this from hearing alone. Still, he had to get there promptly. With a sigh reminiscent of someone beginning a long, monologue-esque speech, Aeron approached the congested tunnel.

[Blink]

Blood. It was dripping everywhere in tiny beads into shiny pools on the floor. Regina couldn't even see where she was there was so much of the crimson liquid. However, it wasn't the blood that troubled Regina so much. It was the dryness of her throat, lips, tongue that caused her hands to automatically fly up to her neck. She needed water. She could feel it in her body; the dehydration. Her lips and the inside of her nose cracked and began bleeding at an alarming rate.

Regina clasped her hand over her face, which quickly became soaked in blood. Desperately, she swam through the pools of blood that were now suddenly up to her waist. She searched and searched through the odd metal shapes that were covered in blood. Tiny fissures began lining her skin, which began bleeding as well. There was so much blood. Regina was sure she would drown in it. However, she wasn't set on leaving the room, her heart was set on finding water.

Suddenly, there it was! A pristine spring of clear water that cut through the puddles of red, hidden deep within the metal. Regina dove forward, flinging her hand into the cool liquid. Her heart stopped when she realized what the metal shape was: the very machine that had nearly taken her life three months earlier, a device she used for cutting thick sheets of metal that she had been attempting to fix. Regina's throat was thick with blood, so much that she couldn't scream as the machine roared to life -

"Regina! Regina, wake up! Regina!" Regina jolted awake, still clutching her throat, as her mother finally managed to shake her out of the nightmare. She sat up so quickly that black spots blurred her vision. Her hands searched around and only found blankets, and then her mother's hands. It had only been a dream. Regina continued to sit as her heartbeat began to slow, her breathing become regulated. Her wavy blonde tresses were slicked with beads of sweat. "Honey, you were only -"

"Dreaming. I know." Regina swung her legs out of bed and finally looked her mother in the eye. They had the same eyes; grey with tiny specks of white. However, she had inherited her sandy hair from her father. Unfortunately.

Regina's mother stared at her with concern, but seeing that her daughter wanted to forget the night terror as soon as possible, she changed the subject. "I've drawn you a bath. You're due at hangar one in an hour. However, I have to leave now," Her mother rattled on as she messily made Regina's bed. She was always trying to keep the small home somewhat clean. "and your father is still...out. I'll be in hangar two if you need anything. Good luck, sweetheart." A kiss was planted upon Regina's hair, and then her mother swept out of the house.

Regina started across the room at the other bed, where her twin six year old sisters still slept soundly. They had their mother's light auburn hair and their father's deep brown eyes. Regina would miss being around Becka and Juli all day. They were a ray of sunlight in this mess of a world. However, Regina was starting work again today, and the twins would be staying next door with the Styns, which made her apprehensive. Mrs. Styn already had four children to look after. Adding two hyperactive, young girls wouldn't help matters.

After waking Becka and Juli, Regina laid out matching red play dresses for the girls, then headed into the tiny bathroom attached to their bedroom. It was the only one in the house, which wasn't uncommon for District Six. She slipped off her thin nightgown and sunk into the lukewarm water. The Frisks had running water, but not very much, and if they wanted it hot, boiling was required. However, the six inches of water made Regina feel at ease for the first time that morning, and she lingered in the tub for a moment.

Regina glanced at her left arm - or what was left of it, anyways. It was the accident that had forced the medics to amputate it. The very accident had spawned nightmare after nightmare, including the one she had that night. Regina looked away to prevent flashbacks from flooding her mind. She scrubbed at least most of the dirt and grease from her body and hair. By now she had nearly mastered the art of bathing with one hand. It wasn't a hugely challenging task compared to getting dressed. Regina slipped on blue flower-print button-down shirt, jeans (quite the luxury for her family, and the only pair she owned), and her usual grease-and-lubricant-stained jean jacket. She slipped on her leather boots (which she kept tied for convenience) and headed into the tiny shoebox of a kitchen.

Three plates were set out on the round table, each with an egg and a thin strip of bacon. Regina's mother had obviously prepared this for her daughter's convenience, for cooking was one thing Regina could not seem to do at all. She grimaced. Her mother must have gotten up extra early to fetch eggs from the yard, cook them and the bacon, draw Regina's bath, and leave the house generally clean with time to walk to work. All for her disabled daughter. Regina felt a twinge of guilt. Shouldn't she be able to take care of herself by now?

"Girls, breakfast!" Regina called, and Becka and Juli came bounding down the small hallway, grins plastered across their face when they saw the special breakfast. Normally bowls of cold porridge were waiting for them. While they ate, Regina tied a red ribbon in their hair, and set out two pairs of identical white canvas shoes. Tiny shoes. Becka and Juli babbled happily. Why wouldn't they be happy? Being six was one of the times most people take for granted. You're old enough to have memories, thoughts, and opinions, but young enough to have fun, not worry about anything, and be free of the Reaping. Regina scarfed down her own breakfast, then clasped two tiny hands as they left and locked the house. Hopefully her father hadn't lost is key again, or he'd be locked out. Hopefully.

Regina knocked on the Styns' door and handed Becka and Juli off to Crane Styn. Juli, of course, began to cry. "We don't want to you to go back to work, 'Gina," She wailed. Regina suppressed a sigh and knelt down to hug each of her sisters.

"I know, Juli. But I have to. It's just the way it is. The Capitol only allowed me three months of recuperation time. Now, I have to go." Regina kissed all four eager cheeks, then headed down the narrow gravel road to the hangars. It had been exactly three months to the day of her accident, and now, it was time to go back to work. Regina shoved her hand in her pocket and kept her eyes on the ground, not making eye contact with anyone. However, she felt the stares. Eyes shifting from her face to her stump. Missing limbs weren't completely uncommon in District 6, but Regina still found people were interested in her abnormality. Her cheeks burned pink.

Finally, Regina reached the safety of hangar one, where everyone was too busy to stare. She quickly weaved in and out of the morning crowds to the back clerical offices, where Hins was waiting for her. He was the associate production supervisor of hangar one and had been Regina's boss ever since she was twelve when she started working. He was a gruff looking man with shoulder-length black hair and some facial hair going on. Hins couldn't be too old - maybe his early forties. That was only a rough guess, though.

"It's nice to see you back, Frisk," He greeted, and Regina shook his rough hand. Hins was one of the few who took no notice to her missing left arm.

"I would say it's nice to be back, but..." Regina shrugged, and Hins understood. The working conditions weren't exactly ideal, and the work was hard, but what did the Capitol care? They weren't the ones doing the work. They just wanted their precious hovercrafts.

"We'll start you off with some easy stuff, alright? Why don't you grab a mop and a bucket of water and clean up whatever you can. Check with me after a couple hours." Hins was quickly distracted by another worker wanting his attention.

Cleaning. Cleaning a hovercraft hangar, where there was always, always stuff spilling and smearing everywhere. Regina frowned, but headed back into a small room and grabbed her supplies anyways. She was trying to hold a bucket in her hand and balance a mop handle under her left armpit when suddenly a figure dashed out of the tunnel connecting hangars one or two, and straight into Regina, who was looking down again. She staggered, lost her balance, and the bucket of water went flying and skidding across the floor, spilling its contents over several people and many supplies. Regina also went flying to the ground.

[Aeron]

The sights and sounds of the tunnel in particular seemed to blur into one another, further contributing to the harsh metaphorical symphony already in progress in the facility. Workers who use the tunnels were often diverse in terms of commuting speed, and the average speed of these people seemed to increase on days when quotas were so great that they had the potential to create backlogs. Backlog would certainly be a good word to describe the scene developing in the tunnel at present time. Impatience emanated from its users like the heat from hot coals, manifesting itself in an even more prevalent way as one drew closer. Truthfully, Aeron pitied those who had to navigate through this place on days like this.

Perhaps not even a microsecond had passed since the thought left Aeron’s mind when the ground rushed up to meet him, his knees bearing the brunt of the hard impact. Old concrete was not an ideal surface to land on, regardless of what part of the body strikes it first. There had a been a slight delay in his return to reality, for the last thing he saw before toppling over was a mass of wavy blonde hair, as gold as the Capitol’s most valuable pocket-watches, which were often seen on its wealthy-enough-to-purchase-an-entire-District patrons.

Another couple of seconds had passed while Aeron regained his bearings, during which he looked over at the sprawled blonde mass on the ground. In addition to the impact, two distinct crashes were heard, followed by the unmistakable swoosh of a liquid escaping from its container and onto the floor. Right as the latter sound struck Aeron’s eardrums and reverberated through his head, he froze without another movement.

Damn. If that was oil or fuel, he thought, unable to relinquish the cold, clammy grasp of fear on his brain, Combustion may perhaps be imminent, and I highly doubt that we can increase our output if half of us are cooked.

Praying that his two predictions were both false, he cautiously sniffed the air around him. It smelled of grime and grease, but it thankfully did not contain the pungent odor of refined gasoline or oil. As worry’s frozen grip began to slacken and warm on his mind and the surrounding vicinity, Aeron diverted his attention to the person he had bumped into. It was a girl of about sixteen or seventeen, give or take. She had now pulled herself into a sitting position, although the look on her face seemed to be a heterogeneous mixture of embarrassment and fright. He visually examined her in the space of a few seconds. She was an attractive girl, and she was certainly dressed the part for working in these harrowing conditions. But as he began to speak, his eyes darted downward to her left arm. His eyes widened at the sight before him, the moisture in his mouth suddenly evaporating.

The girl’s left arm, for the most part, had been severed. She had most likely received an amputation, but that was the least of Aeron’s worries at the moment. As the spectacle registered and mingled with his brain, he immediately righted himself and offered the girl not only his outstretched arm, but practically his entire right shoulder.

“Were you attempting a balancing act?” he asked, attempting to distill the awkwardness wafting through the air by injecting humor into the equation. “I don’t think you executed it very well. May I help you with those supplies you dropped? I’m sorry for bumping into you like that. Clearly my mind had wandered to somewhere distant.”

He swung his arm even lower, which would be a visual sign for her to accept it. The whole scenario had happened in less than a minute, and yet Aeron’s mind had distorted it into something that could be qualified as a surreal fantasy, dragging onward for as long as the dreamer was bound to it.

[Blink]

A ridiculous noise, somewhere between a gasp and a shriek, escaped Regina's mouth as she crashed into the relentless concrete. She could already feel bruises blossoming beneath her ivory skin. Despite throwing her hand out to catch herself, her head still smacked into the concrete and she saw stars for a moment. Sitting up quickly, Regina spun to find the figure she had bashed into so rudely. She had expected them to continue on, not a care for the disabled girl.

“Were you attempting a balancing act?” The rest of the dark spots that clouded her vision disappeared, and Regina found the face of a young boy, maybe her age or older. Although there were many children working in the hangars, she had never seen this particular boy before. Or not that she recalled, anyways. His eyes lingered on her left arm for a moment, then outstretched his entire arm. Something was just beginning to fade away from his brown eyes - alarm? Regina stared at his arm stupidly.

“I don’t think you executed it very well. May I help you with those supplies you dropped? I’m sorry for bumping into you like that. Clearly my mind had wandered to somewhere distant.”
What supplies? What? Regina's brow furrowed, and then she remembered the mop and bucket.

"Oh!" Was all she managed, then grasped the boy's arm tightly as she hoisted herself up. Regina winced as gravity took effect on her skull. She felt her forehead tenderly and already felt a bump beginning to form. "I'm so sorry - I'm not very - I don't -" Regina gave up on the whole talking thing after a moment, then picked up her mop hastily and began scrubbing up the spilled water. This was an awkward maneuver with only hand. She realized how rude she was being.

"I'm sorry," Regina repeated, facing the boy fully for the first time. "I wasn't watching where I was going very well, and then you know I'm trying to hold too many things at once and -" She stopped as she caught herself rambling again. "I'm sorry," She repeated once again, a bad habit of hers. "I'm Regina Frisk."

[Aeron]

Paying no heed to the small plethora of working gawking perplexedly at the scene in the tunnel, Aeron kept his focus on the girl, who had now introduced herself as Regina Frisk (or Frisc? Risk?). Her explanation of the accident beforehand had come in stutters, and Aeron honestly did not require any sort of explanation. Perhaps she had confided him her name in an attempt to further relinquish the awkwardness, although it seemed to be dissipating gradually. All that seemed to remain now was to convince everyone to resume their normal duties. Before that, however, Aeron now owed Regina his own credentials.

“Well met, I suppose?” Aeron asked, a discrete chuckle escaping from his lips. “I’m Aeron Volante, and I’d recommend getting up before someone tramples you.”

He did not know if his speech was comical or impatient, and Aeron had not been trying to insinuate the latter. If anything, it was an attempt to diffuse the lingering amounts of tension in the vicinity. The emotions at the moment certainly were like gaseous substances. Either way, he took Regina’s good arm and pulled her up gently and modestly. The look on her face had not deviated from when the impact first happened, although the first telltale signs of relief appeared to be localized to her mouth, which seemed to be curling itself into a smile of some kind, perhaps out of embarrassment. Was it that or the former? Whatever. Aeron was no psychologist.

“Why were you in such a hurry, Regina?” he asked quizzically, his instincts and lust for explanation kicking in. In layman’s terms, another light switch on his brain had been flicked on. “I’d be amazed if you made it across with both of those in one hand.”

A spasm of worry had flashed across his train of thought, but the train was still rolling nonetheless. Aeron had inadvertently referred to her amputated arm, which was now essentially a stump of flesh. But he nonetheless had the utmost sympathy for her in this regard.

Taking the next initiative, Aeron groped for Regina’s bucket as she formulated her next response, adding in, “I can refill this and bring it to your destination, and the mop will behave if you carry it alone. Sound reasonable? It’s the least I can do to repay you for this mishap.”

[Blink]

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Aeron, as he had introduced himself, had smoothly taken over the entire situation, hoisting Regina to her feet. She briefly expected him to dust her off or something. Smiling ever-so-slightly at the thought as relief took over embarrassment, Regina leaned on the mop, ignoring the rush of crowds that impatiently passed by. She expected this brief confrontation to end when Aeron helped her up, but he stayed. Out of what? Interest? Concern? When Regina analyzed the look in his eyes, it appeared to be both. Any other human being would have been long gone.

“I can refill this and bring it to your destination, and the mop will behave if you carry it alone. Sound reasonable? It’s the least I can do to repay you for this mishap.” Aeron took hold of the bucket, which Regina had completely forgotten about. He had previously asked why she was rushing. She couldn't help but wonder why this stranger was offering his help. A jolt of alarm hit Regina. Would the two get in trouble for this? The Capitol was strict about their work. Regina glanced around worriedly, but there were no Peacekeepers or supervisors to be seen.

"It was less of a matter of rushing than it was a matter of clumsiness. Let's hurry - I don't want to get you in trouble."Regina spoke quickly and turned to lead the way back to the utility room, Aeron carrying the bucket and Regina grasping the mop in her remaining hand. The consequences for slacking off at work were harsh. They varied from decreasing pay to losing your job to public whippings to becoming an Avox. Regina walked a bit quicker, trying to calm her mind. Aeron was helping her work. She had a good excuse. They weren't slacking off. She sighed internally. Her mother always reminded her that worrying did no good.

Thoroughly frustrated now, Regina led Aeron into the small room where a water spout stuck out from the brick wall. She just had to run into Aeron in the first place, let alone lose her arm in the stupid accident. Growling under her breath, she shut the door."I'm sorry. It's not your fault. I'm just contemplating my level of competence at the moment." Regina pointed at the spout."You can fill 'er up right there. Thanks a ton, by the way, for saving my ass. I think we escaped with some minor bumps and bruises, and, well, a few damp people."Regina laughed awkwardly and attempted not to ramble again. Now that the two were in the safety of the utility room, they could not be heard. She had already checked for cameras and bugs when she started working in hangar one.

[Aeron]

Despite the brief lull in their respective jobs, Aeron thought he and Regina had handled the situation in the tunnel reasonably well. She was now hurriedly leading him elsewhere, presumably to the miniscule room which resembled a public showering station minus the showerheads, towels, and other necessities. Affixed to the brick walls instead were individual sinks, their faucets and mounts nearly camouflaging with the aging brick from rust and decay. Aeron’s emotional state at this point was rapidly decompressing from the oxygen-impoverished altitude of worry down to a lower altitude of relative ease. No more words had to be exchanged here, but apparently Regina had thought differently.

When the incident had occurred, Aeron had no intention of getting to know this blonde amputee on a personal level. But as she spoke to him this time, on the way to this room, breathing now regulated, something gave way in Aeron’s reserved approach. Regina’s demeanor somewhat paralleled his own, and likenesses between workers were always appreciated. It made the universal task of rolling out planes on time slightly easier in the scheme of things. At this realization, Aeron felt his tense shoulders slacken a bit. It was as if someone took a hot iron and pressed it with all their might to a block of ice. Strangely, the sensation felt good, and it was spreading throughout Aeron’s body like a hearty dose of morphling.

It was only when Aeron had turned the cold water tap counterclockwise (which issued an audible squeaking sound in the process) and let the liquid fill the bucket’s interior that he realized Regina and him were alone in the room. Despite the hefty volume of workers that used this facility, only a handful of them required the actual water supply. Most of them simply used the lavatory sinks instead.

After about ten seconds, the bucket had now been refilled to its original capacity, and Aeron killed the faucet. Thoroughly convinced that the duo had eluded trouble, Aeron turned to Regina, who had just begun to thank him once more. The tone of his reply was warmer this time, as if the aforementioned iron was smoothly gliding across his voice, encompassing it in a jet of relief and warmth.

“It’s comforting to know that people have the decency not to follow us in here, too. Though I doubt this room’s reputation makes it worthwhile to use,” Aeron said wittily, his gaze still glued to Regina, particularly the gaze she was returning to him. Why were his eyes suddenly shackled to this girl?

His eyes finally broke free of Regina and instead darted over to the door, which was thankfully shut. The bucket was still in his grasp by its handle, although he had made his knuckles unnecessarily white in the few seconds that passed between Aeron’s statement and her reply.

[Blink]

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Regina watched Aeron's movements as he quickly filled the bucket with murky water, clouded with rust. He stayed silent, and so did Regina. She could hear each an every noise in the room: the squeak of the faucet, a rustle of clothing, mechanical noises coming from the hangar. As the last drops of water spashed into the dented metal pail, Regina pulled herself from the wall she was leaning against as Aeron spoke. His voice sounded unusually loud after all the silence.

“It’s comforting to know that people have the decency not to follow us in here, too. Though I doubt this room’s reputation makes it worthwhile to use." The comment made Regina go red in the face. She ducked her head slightly at the heat, then looked back up, opening the door for Aeron. She knew it wasn't intended, but the statement seemed to imply the two wanted privacy for - well, other things. Regina cursed internally for blushing. It wasn't one of her defining traits, that's for sure.

"Yeah," Regina spluttered, and it was all she had not to slap herself in the forehead with her palm. Why was she so pathetically incompetent when it came to small talk and simple conversations? Sometimes she had just the right thing to say, and other times, well, the exact opposite occurred. "I mean, I don't think anyone saw us go in. Peacekeepers in particular," Regina said, walking next to Aeron. She realized she didn't know where she was taking him. Or was Aeron taking her somewhere?

"Not to be rude or anything, but where are we going?" Regina forced an awkward chuckle, which turned out to seem more creepy than anything. She now wished to just melt into a puddle on the spot. Instead, she just gripped the mop with her sweaty hand until her knuckles turned white. Relax, Regina. You're just talking to a person. A normal person. He just works here. It's no big deal. "I have to apologize. I just started working again today. I used to cut sheet metal, but now I'm down to...janitorial work." Regina sighed slightly, but at the same time she was in no rush to get back to the machine that had severed her arm in the first place.

Regina remembered the day all too well. A scrap of metal had jammed the cutting machinery, and although Regina thought she had turned off the entire device as she reached in to retrieve the scrap, there was an ear-piercing screech as the blade and metal slid together. The small piece of metal flew out of the machine, which roared to life once more. Regina felt her jacket pocket, where there was a small, rectangular bulge. Yes, she had kept the scrap of metal, but she wasn't exactly sure why. It helped her remember, for she wished not to forget, but to try and retrieve all of the other memories lost in shock. She had sworn she had turned off the machine, sworn it...

[Aeron]

The severity of this gaze was no more than indiscernible, right? Aeron thought before he could stop himself. Thankfully, the thought had not been translated into audible speech. The time was now nigh to depart the room, and he and Regina had successfully eluded trouble, most notably Peacekeepers. Aeron in particular was perplexed at the whole notion as much as he was relieved. All that remained now was exiting the area undetected. However, something was tugging at his back, something nonexistent yet strong enough to keep his legs affixed to the rust-garnished concrete. Regina was essentially disabled, and even simple, straightforward tasks were unnecessarily difficult. Perhaps she had grown accustomed to lacking a limb, but she would also appreciate the assistance. Exactly how had she received this handicap, anyway? That was a question better left unanswered for the time being.

“Where were you assigned to clean?” Aeron asked her quizzically. “I have some time left to spare. Is there anything I can be of assistance with?” He understood her last statement completely, and how dissatisfied she has with her inevitable demotion. Her response would affect where the pair would go, although it would not change the fact that they had to attempt yet another discretion through the tunnel. They accomplished this feat once not five minutes ago. Perhaps a second attempt would also go smoothly. The odds may in fact be in their favor.

Aeron could leave his father waiting for the time being, as long as he did not waste too much time with Regina. He had allowed himself as much as a half an hour of idleness, using his mother as an excuse. Workers rarely used a schedule for this sort of thing. If they did, the Capitol would be latched onto their asses like ticks about increasing output quotas and altering protocol all together. Surely this attempt at stalling would be no different. Oblivious to this though he was, Aeron was fond of this Regina girl. A friendship between them would surely yield fruitful results. Perhaps this chance encounter was not so humiliating after all.