The breakfast table was a battlefield.
Not literally. The table was small, wooden, second-hand from the Ward 9 market, with one leg slightly shorter than the others that Ishiki had fixed three times and would apparently need to fix a fourth. It held two plates of eggs and toast, two glasses of juice, and one ongoing argument that had been running at low heat for approximately four minutes and was now approaching a boil.
"I'm just asking," Nina said, in the voice she used when she was being _very_ reasonable and wanted credit for it, "why you won't tell me anything."
"I tell you things." Ishiki ate his eggs.
"You tell me _some_ things."
"Those are things."
"Not the things I'm asking about." She put her fork down with the specific precision of someone making a statement with tableware. "I ask about Players. You either walk away or change the subject. I ask about Scenarios. You look at the ceiling. I ask if _I_ can be a Player and you leave the room entirely."
