Clyde enjoyed the dinner more than he had expected. The food was simple but it was better than he had experienced so far. After weeks of missions and constant danger, sitting beneath the open night sky with people who were not trying to kill him felt pleasant.
Don kept refilling everyone's cups, and Samuel eventually stopped trying to tell him to slow down.
Laughter replaced the usual solemness that followed their missions. Even Maira, who usually maintained a serious expression, smiled more often as the night continued.
At some point, the conversation shifted toward their past.
"So, Jack," Don said, leaning back in his chair with a drink in his hand. "You've been with us for weeks, but we know almost nothing about you. Tonight, you're not getting away with that."
Clyde smiled a little. "Why am I suddenly the target?"
"Because everyone else has already shared something." Don pointed toward himself. "I'll start. Before the Selection Stage, I was an accountant."
