Upon departure the walk started like any other, nothing extraordinary-- a few minutes of silence with only the scuffs of our feet against the pavement for noise. The night was warm and calm, only a bit of a breeze carrying the saltiness of the nearby ocean across the plain. A comfortable evening, all things considered, though still I could feel tension emanating from my employer as he walked in front of me. Given these recent happenings I'd understand if he felt a bit shaken, but not quite to the extent I was currently observing.

Given the time of year it was still fairly light outside, the passersby eyeing me strangely as we both went on our way. Today of all days it was hard to ignore, my face still marred and my wrist still bandaged, yet Morissey still accepted and even longed for my company. It was both comforting and conflicting, but I was happy enough with this.

After some time we'd find ourselves in a quiet residential district, the setting sun's rays shining between the buildings as we passed through. Everything around us was bathed in the warm yellow glow of the waning day, a sight I had not seen for myself in so long. It was a little overwhelming, my pace slowing as we traversed the streets. From in front of me Morissey turned his head to look back at me, the movement catching my eye. He cocked his head and skewed his ears in an inquisitive manner and I could already tell why.

"S-Sorry, it's just been a long time since I'd been out here during this time of day," I awkwardly laughed as I sped up my pace to catch back up. "I've been, um, more or less confined to the house all this time and it's quite a thing to behold after so long. I didn't mean to--"

"You need not apologize," he reassured, a twinge of confusion in his tone. "It's nice to see you in a good mood, especially after...that."

My heart skipped a beat, my hand reaching up to rest its palm on my sternum as I looked away. I'd been trying not to think about it, pushing the memories to the back of my head with the other bitterness I carried around with me. From the corner of my eye Morissey's expression warped into something else, some kind of worry.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you," he went on. "I've just...been worried about you and your family is all."

Those words with that tone perplexed me given the source. Morissey had never liked my family much, particularly my children, so any modicum of concern coming from him was unexpected to say the least. Even so, it didn't feel fake or forced, my slowly turning my head back to face him while his ears had fallen back. As though to be polite he kept a bit of a distance from me, a passing breeze gently sweeping between us in the empty street.

"I didn't...think you cared about them," I quietly said, just barely audible from his distance.

He looked down to the road beneath us and sighed.

"...For the longest time I tried not to," he confessed. "Like I said, your family disturbed me at first, but there is...a bit more to it than that."

My head tilted. I wasn't sure what that could mean, if anything.

Without another word he turned back to face the horizon and continued his pace. My own feet did the same, picking up speed to catch up with him.

"I-I don't under--" I started to say.

Morissey quickly turned his head to look back at me, his face gone from confused to severe and forcing me to hold my tongue. He didn't look angry or upset yet he walked with purpose, as though he had a destination in mind. His expression was oddly reassuring, hinting at some kind of answer. My curiosity kept me following my employer through the empty streets of Huot and we found ourselves at the outskirts of town before too long. Still we walked further, not stopping until the town was behind us. After a quick look around he took a seat on a nearby stone, pausing to collect his thoughts.

"There is a lot you and others don't know, and I try to keep it that way as much as possible," he sighed. "Would you...be offended if I referred to you by name?"

My ears twitched. Honestly I was surprised he even remembered my name.

"...No, I wouldn't, though I thought that was something you had to earn in this organization?" I replied.

"Ah, that," he responded, looking out to the sea. "The whole matter with earning names is because of the kind of people this organization attracts. Many want a sort of restart, some way to put a previous life behind them and only move forward. More than a few people want something bigger to be part of, to feel like they're contributing to something larger than themselves and earning some kind of place or name."

"It's...from them?" I asked.

"You could say that," he answered. "With time it became policy, so many wanting to start over and have today speak for them instead of yesterday. I know I felt that way for a long time so the feeling isn't lost on me. Something tells me you aren't a stranger to it, either."

I took a small step back and looked down to my side. Given what I'd gone through in my earlier years he certainly wasn't wrong, and I felt very little tie to my name or identity after it had been used against me for so long. Shedding those hard times, those shadows, and starting over as someone else? That was something I admittedly dreamed of and why I walked so far-- to start over. There was a strange kind of security in that, in a wiped slate, and the strange name policy was actually reassuring for me for much the same reason: My name, who I was, didn't matter...only what I could do. That's what I wanted.

"Your face and mannerisms seem to agree, from what I see," he said, looking up at me. "The policy was never meant to be hurtful or cruel, but to help those so badly hurt get the fresh start they felt they needed. I don't want to call you something you'd rather not be, so I'm putting that decision in your hands."

"...I'm fine with either," I whispered, "but if I may, I would like to know what you meant earlier."

"Of course, I was getting to that," he exhaled, resting his elbows on his thighs and clasping his hands out in front of him. "It's...something you and many may not expect as I try to keep my life as private as possible. I wanted this to be the same, hence coming all the way out here."

I felt my eyebrow rise as I tilted my head. He'd always been such an enigma I couldn't imagine what this could be.

"...You know of my earlier life, and that is something I'd only ever shared with one other person," he softly said, his ears slowly falling back as he spoke. "You understood where my hesitation with new types originated, but things happened between then and now."

"'Things?'"

"...Happenings, events that could...perhaps soothe away an old fear or bias," he returned, his grip on his hands growing visibly more firm as he stared through them.

Whatever this was, that it demanded such privacy had me bemused and a bit worried, my quickly looking around for any sight of others just in case.

"...I knew Riv's mother back when she was still on this earth, Samuel," he choked out.

"...'Knew?'"

"We were...together, you could say."

Given Riv's eyes there was no way his mother could have...been anything but a new type. I had no words for such a revelation, having always assumed he never had a place in his heart for new types of any kind, for any reason.

"She...Stella...was a prostitute residing in a small house in Stipa, raising Riv on her own," he continued, his voice carrying a melancholic tone as he reminisced. "I have my vices; her occupation was one of them at the time. I-I had...sought her services after a few drinks, only to be declined because she knew of my biases."

I wasn't sure what to say.

"I hadn't the prior knowledge of her race, but I also...couldn't find it in me to leave for some reason. S...Something about her, how she cared more about herself and her child than my money..."

From here I could see the moisture gathering in his eyes, reddened and tired after so long of holding back.

"Sh-She treated me as a person. Not a project leader, not a bank, but a person. Stella handled me with such a gentle kindness even with my biases in mind, something I'd n-never known from anyone. It was...like she saw right through me, all the walls I erected to seal away my weaknesses. Without even trying she could see, could feel the worst parts of me...and yet--"

A tear left his eye, trailing down his cheek.

"--those things just didn't matter. They didn't...make her think less of me, or make her treat me like a problem. I was given a taste of a connection I'd longed for, but from someone I'd least expect. I found myself acting on impulse, drawn more and more to her and the care she gave me as my fears slowly melted away."

Another tear chased the first, both falling from his face onto the grass at the base of his stone seat.

"My loneliness, m-my desire and longing for closeness...was far stronger than my fear of her kind, even with my history. I...think you know what it's like, in your own way."

One of my arms reached up to grab the other, rubbing through the fur. Looking back some five years ago, how initially nervous I was around my son but how quickly he became the light in my life after being in such a dark place...the feeling was not foreign to me.

"...I loved her," he said through a whimper. "It didn't matter to me what she was-- I loved her. I frequented her residence when I could, when I was local, just to spend some time together. But..."

He took a deep breath and paused.

"...It was something I had to do in secret. Given what I was known for and the nature of the organization, should anyone find out about us it would put both of us as well as her young son in danger. From a tipsy, but fateful encounter my world was put on its head and I had so...so much to process: Do I lose what I'd spent my life building, or do I lose the only one I'd ever loved...and who loved me in return?"

Those final words tugged at me, my remembering losing Esmé years ago. I would have given up anything I own, any job or title I carried if it meant I wouldn't lose her.

"...I worked for years to try to put aside money to break away from the organization, hoping to make a life with her a reality and to...help raise her son, but...that decision was ultimately made for me in the guise of a storm."

"The...one that destroyed Stipa?" I asked.

"...Yes, that same storm," he sighed. "We had been in a nearby town at the time, but not so near we could have responded before the storm took her away. When I learned of her passing, I..."

His ears could rake back no further. The whites of his eyes were inflamed and sore as he wiped away his tears onto his coat sleeve.

"I-I broke, Samuel, and fell into a kind of despair I'd never before known."

"...I'm sorry, Morissey."

"Please...don't apologize for that," he choked. "I fell back into horrible vices and habits, delving deeper into a place I never wanted to be. I was too proud, too afraid to seek help lest I seem weak or unreliable and instead found myself doing and saying things I'd never normally condone."

He did always seem as though he was hiding something past his stone face, rarely showing emotion before these latest developments. His outburst a few years ago caught me by surprise, but given how apologetic he was after the fact perhaps the feeling was mutual.

Though I couldn't help but wonder...

"Pardon my asking, but...you say you're worried about how others see you, especially within your organization," I recalled. "Are there...um, things you do or policies you enforce out of pressure, and not out of genuine interest?"

"...You always were perceptive," he softly laughed through his tears. "The alias system for the new type children was something pushed by my upper staff, and for months on end. They felt threatened by your home's enrollment given Riv's residence. Given the pressure and how long it carried on, as well as the horrible place I was in at the time and the vices I was frequenting, I...gave in and made it a policy to placate them and keep their confidence."

"It did seem to come out of nowhere, is all," I quietly said, fidgeting with my foot in the grass. "I'm...curious about another thing, too, if I may."

"Yes?"

"Had you not met Riv during your relationship with Stella?" I asked further. "I'd figure if a relationship lasted for a while you would have, but neither of you seemed to recognize each other when you met in the home."

"Ah, well...I could only visit very late at night, so he was in bed," he answered. "It was the only way I could see her without drawing unwanted attention toward my activities or whereabouts from others in my organization."

That was a fair response. If he really was so afraid of being discovered it would make sense to hide as much as he could, and going out in the dead of night is one way to do that. Though, this piqued my interest and raised another question.

"Um, how did you know, then, that Riv was her son?" I continued my interrogation.

"Heh," he chuckled, a tiny smile creasing his lips, "he has her eyes."

"She had eyes like his?"

"The very same," he affirmed, looking up to the darkening red sky. "Those bright celadon eyes-- there was no mistake."

I thought back to their first meeting.

"You...said that his eyes were nostalgic for you," I remembered aloud. "You didn't seem bothered by them, but rather...I can't even really describe it."

"...I was reassured," he said. "Though Stella was gone, her son still lived on and it brought a warmth to my heart I thought I'd never feel again. She truly loved her son, Sam, and I...admit I'd been watchful of your care over this time out of concern for his wellbeing, both for his own sake and for hers."

"So that...episode about Daniel and I...?"

"I was genuinely concerned and took the accusations seriously. I don't blame you for being incredulous, but I hope you...understand now, at least a little bit. I've been trying...very hard to become the person she let me be."

"...Can I ask why?"

He took another deep breath.

"You're similar, in a way," he quietly laughed. "You showed a genuine interest in my issues and feelings when nobody else had, and not with the expectation of getting money or special treatment in return. It...slowly tore down the walls I had rebuilt to keep people from my emotions, and with that I started feeling more at-ease, more like...a real person, not just some figurehead people expect the world of."

I was taken aback. Of all the people I could ever expect to hear this from, he was probably dead last.

"...I just hope these things, these outings have been worthwhile for you, too," he said, looking back to me. "I know your primary concern is about how I look forward to them, but I want these to be things you enjoy, too. I figured that...given the social climate, you don't get to leave the house much so you might like to do that every now and again. Please do correct me if I'm mistaken."

"No, I do enjoy the walks and just seeing things around town," I nervously laughed. "Honestly, though, it's been nice just to get to know you as a person. You seemed more relaxed and content with these outings and I'm not the only one to notice."

"Pardon?"

"Eheh, well, Daniel and the children have picked up on it, too," I admitted, scratching my head. "They're a bit nervous about it, but I'm hoping they come around. I'd...really like everyone to get along."

Morissey looked down to his clasped hands, and then back up to the sky above.

"...I'd like that, too."

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