Nestled in one of the quieter tunnels of Rat City, Matias' home was small, worn, but solid. It was built into the bones of an old storage chamber, reinforced with salvaged steel beams and thick wooden panels that had clearly been repurposed from something long abandoned.
It was lived-in, not extravagant, not that he couldn't afford it on a salary from The Rat King. The room was nearly spartan, a cot against one wall, a sturdy table, a small assortment of tools and weapons neatly arranged along a workbench. The air carried the faint scent of aged whiskey and oiled metal, the kind of place belonging to someone who didn't waste time on luxury but still cared for what little they had. Castin had known a few guys back in the day who would have called this place perfect.
Castin stepped inside, wincing slightly as his ribs protested the movement. "This is your place huh? It's uh, nice."
Matias locked the door behind them, exhaling as he tossed his coat over the back of a chair.
"You're lucky you know," he muttered, moving toward a small shelf lined with dark glass bottles. "That nothing's broken."
Castin let out a rough chuckle, lowering himself into one of the chairs with a grateful groan. "Feels like something should be."
Matias didn't argue. Instead, he pulled two dented metal cups from a side cabinet and poured a generous amount of whiskey into each, setting one in front of Castin before taking the other for himself.
They clinked the cups together wordlessly before drinking.
The burn hit immediately. "Sheesh, what is this stuff"
Matias shrugged "Booze."
Castin let the warmth settle in his chest, easing some of the tension still coiling in his muscles.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
The quiet between them was comfortable, not awkward, the kind of silence that only came after fighting alongside someone and living to talk about it or atleast being next to someone while they fought.
Matias eventually leaned back in his chair, turning his cup between his fingers purposefully keeping his eyes on the cup as he spoke.
"You don't learn moves like that just bumming around." His gaze finally flicked up, searching castins face "Where'd you train?"
Castin hesitated. He hadn't talked about this in years.
"…UNSC," he finally said.
Matias' brow furrowed. "Some kinda top side organization? UNSC… That supposed to mean something?"
Castin huffed a tired smirk. "Not down here, no."
Matias took another sip, still watching him.
"Military?"
"Something like that, all our nations came together to make up a force." Castin rolled his cup between his hands, feeling the weight of old memories pressing against his ribs. "Basic training, close-quarters combat, small arms. The usual."
Matias hummed, considering.
"Didn't seem like 'basic' out there."
Castin chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah. Well. I trained with a guy named Vega. Hard bastard, funny too and good at what he did."
Matias raised an eyebrow. "And what happened with all that? You didn't defect, did you?"
Castin's smirk faded. Matias thought he could almost see a flicker of something on Castin's face, Sadness? Despair? Before he could entirely figure it out castins voice cut the silence.
"…No."
Matias didn't press.
Castin exhaled slowly, staring into the deep amber of his drink.
"My daughter," he murmured, voice quieter now. "Elena. She was, uh, diagnosed with cancer."
Matias' expression shifted, the usual unreadable sharpness in his eyes softening just slightly.
Castin swallowed, setting the cup down with a gentle clink. Matias instinctively reached to refill his glass.
"I put in for a discharge to take care of her," he continued. "Didn't have much of a choice. The job was dangerous. The kind that puts you too far from home for too long."
Matias didn't say anything. Just listened.
A moment passed.
Then Matias asked, "You don't have a partner?"
Castin let out a breath that wasn't quite a laugh.
"I did. Believe it or not, I was married."
Matias frowned. "What happened?"
Castin reached for his drink again, but this time, he didn't take a sip.
"Lillian Endac." He let the name sit between them for a moment. "Lilly."
Matias waited.
Castin swallowed, tightening his grip around the cup.
"She died in childbirth."
Matias exhaled through his nose, silent for a long moment.
"I'm sorry," he finally said.
Castin nodded absently, gaze still distant.
Another pause.
Then Matias lifted his cup again, taking a slow sip before saying, "She must've been one hell of a woman."
Castin finally looked up. His mouth twitched, just slightly.
"She was."
Matias lifted his cup again, taking a slow sip before saying, "She must've been one hell of a woman."
Castin exhaled through his nose, a small huff of laughter escaping, quiet, but real. "Yeah. Yeah, she was."
Matias watched him carefully, sensing there was more beneath the surface. He let the silence stretch, giving Castin room to speak.
And, maybe because of the whiskey, or maybe because it had been too damn long since he said her name out loud, Castin did.
"You know how we met?" he asked, his voice carrying something distant, something softer than before.
Matias tilted his head slightly. "Tell me."
Castin leaned back in his chair, rolling the cup between his hands. The warmth of the liquor seeped into his skin, but the warmth in his chest wasn't from the drink.
"I was on a run," he started, smirking slightly at the memory. "Jogging the same trail I always did. Mornings were quiet, mostly just me and the birds. But that day, I heard someone yell for help."
Matias' brow lifted. "Real trouble?"
"Thought so." Castin chuckled. "Turned out, not exactly."
Matias leaned in slightly, waiting.
"I looked down off the trail, and there she was, this beautiful, brown-haired woman sitting in the brush like she just casually decided to hang out there. Twigs in her hair, dirt on her jeans, looking up at me like I was the weird one."
Matias smirked. "So, what, she just fell?"
"Sprained her ankle," Castin confirmed. "Tried to stand, couldn't put weight on it. But the first thing out of her mouth? 'Oh no, I just come down here to hang out sometimes. That's why I yelled for help. It's just... what I do.'"
Matias let out a short laugh. "Smartass."
"Oh yeah," Castin nodded, smiling to himself. "The biggest."
He took another sip of whiskey before continuing.
"I climbed down to help, asked if she could walk. She tried, almost face-planted, and I told her, 'Well, guess we'll have to leave you here.'"
Matias snorted. "Bet she didn't like that."
"Not one bit." Castin chuckled, shaking his head. "She was about to argue when I picked her up and started walking. She yelped—actually yelped—and said, 'Are you serious?!'"
Matias grinned. "And you were, I'm guessing."
"Damn right." Castin smirked. "Told her they make us hike in full gear all the time in the military. Carrying her was nothing."
Matias hummed, setting his empty cup down. "Smooth."
"She didn't think so." Castin laughed, shaking his head. "Said I was obnoxious. But she let me carry her the whole mile back to the main road."
Matias studied him for a beat, then asked, "So, when'd you ask her out?"
"She asked me," Castin corrected, smirking. "By the time we made it to the road, she looked at me and went, 'So, I guess this means I owe you dinner?'"
Matias let out a low chuckle. "Bold."
"She was," Castin murmured. His smirk faded, just a little, replaced by something quieter.
Matias picked up on the shift. He didn't press, but he waited—just long enough for Castin to fill the space.
"That was it, really," Castin said, rolling the cup between his palms. "We got dinner. Then another. And another."
"The rest was history," Matias guessed.
Castin nodded slowly. "Yeah. The rest was history."
Matias didn't say anything for a moment. Then, he reached for the bottle and refilled Castin's cup without a word.
"To history, then," Matias said simply, lifting his glass.
Castin clinked his cup against Matias', his voice quiet, steady.
"To history."
They drank.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
But the silence wasn't empty.
It was full of things neither of them had to say.
The whiskey had settled warm in Castin's chest, but exhaustion was creeping in at the edges, his bruised ribs reminding him that tonight had been a long damn night.
Matias must've felt it too because after a long silence, he set his empty cup down with a soft clink and exhaled through his nose. "Tomorrow."
Castin half-smirked, half-groaned. "Right. The tunnels. Almost forgot we had to deal with that bastard Roe tomorrow."
Matias leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "Could be worse. Could be a direct order from the King himself." Matias laughed
"Yeah could you imagine if The King asked us to join a gang, that would be crazy he would never do that." Castin ran a hand through his hair as he chuffed out a small laugh himself before continuing. "What exactly are we expecting down there?"
Matias tilted his head slightly, thinking. "Smuggling op, if I had to guess."
Castin frowned. "Great, smuggling what?"
Matias didn't answer right away, just reached for the whiskey bottle and poured himself a little more.
Then, casually: "Drugs."
Castin stared at him. "Drugs?"
Matias shrugged, not looking remotely surprised. "Nowhere is perfect, Castin."
Castin let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking his head. "So, I guess we're just glorified drug mules now, huh?"
Matias swirled the whiskey in his cup, considering. "Hopefully, it's just package inspection. Maybe overseeing a deal. Less hands-on."
"And if it's not?"
"Then you'll get to break a few more laws and a few more ribs." Matias smirked.
Castin groaned. "Matias, I see you've only got the one cot."
Matias didn't answer.
Castin grinned and rubbed at his side. "So, where are you gonna sleep? 'Cause I've earned my bed tonight."
Matias just gave him a flat look. "To be honest, the floor's fine by me."
Castin laughed, shaking his head before plopping into matias bed. "Should've known you were that kind of guy."
Matias just blew out the lantern, plunging the small room into shadows.
For a few moments, there was silence.
Then, just as Castin was drifting off, his voice came, low and amused in the dark.
"Hey, you never told me if you had anyone, ya old rat."
Matias lay still for a moment.
Then, quietly: "Talia."
Castin shifted onto his side to face where Matias' voice came from in the dark. "Talia?"
"We worked together. Same as now. Guard duty. Watching the city's edges before my world became reports and orders. Before hers pulled her somewhere else."
Matias closed his eyes briefly, seeing her in his mind.
"She was a scout once, before the rank, before the rules. We fought together. Once shared stolen drinks in the aftermath of long nights. She could map a tunnel system faster than I could light a cigarette."
"What happened?" Castin's voice was softer now.
Matias exhaled slowly. "She wanted something more."
The quiet stretched between them again, not uncomfortable, just full.
"Since when do scouts stay in one place am I right?" Matias murmured..
When there was no answer, he glanced over, Castin was already asleep.
Matias let out a small, quiet chuckle, shaking his head.
He closed his eyes, and for the second time this week he found himself thinking of a tomorrow that could include Talia.