Chapter 47: All Fabricated
Jethro hesitated for a moment.
"You better go, Jethro," Kekius urged quietly. "Don’t keep them waiting. You really don’t want trouble with the Heads of our own Faction."
Jethro tentatively rose from the cold metal bench, adjusting his clothes to buy a few seconds of composure.
"Bring the Gutterling with you," Nyro called out, his voice carrying easily across the section of the Food Station.
Jethro glanced at him briefly, then lowered his eyes to Scorch. He gently scooped the lizard onto his shoulder; the creature’s claws gripped tightly at his fabric as Jethro started toward the table.
As he moved, several heads turned to watch him pass. Whispers followed him as he edged closer to the larger, more commanding table where the Heads of House sat.
"Where’s he going?" murmured several voices. More heads turned, including that of Eryn Fenlor, who watched with simmering hatred in his eyes.
Jethro could feel their stares like heavy steel as he drew near.
Fenris was looking at him too, though her gaze was colder than most, before she dismissively returned to the holographic screen above her beastlinker.
Kaden Steelmark’s gaze was more studious than anything. He watched Jethro approach their table with his hands folded and his Bolt Hopper curled on his lap. There was something knowing and yet stern in his eyes.
The sense of familiarity intensified for Jethro when he looked at him. The broad shoulders, the single braid resting on the coat, the mechrabbit. Jethro just couldn’t place where he knew him from.
"Take a seat, survivor," Nyro said, gesturing to an empty spot on the bench opposite him. Their benches were different compared to others. They had back rests.