"Breakfast is ready, Adrian," Artemia's voice cut through the morning stillness, her words wrapping around the small apartment.
Adrian, his footsteps slow and ponderous, ambled towards the compact kitchen, which had transformed noticeably in recent weeks. The formerly cluttered countertops now gleamed with cleanliness, showcasing neatly arranged dishes. A quaint kitchen table held the promise of a delicious meal, with two plates adorned with appetizing scrambled eggs and a side salad. The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee swirled enticingly in the air, enveloping the apartment. Adrian couldn't resist the allure of the coffee and seized a cup before succumbing to the temptation of a nearby cupboard, retrieving a miniature bottle of whiskey.
"Eh-eh-eh," Artemia intervened, deftly plucking the bottle from his grasp. "What did we say about drinking first thing in the morning?"
Adrian emitted a theatrical sigh, collapsing into his chair with mock irritation. "You're starting to sound like my mother."
A fond smile played on Artemia's lips as she stowed the whiskey away, her agile fingers then tending to the slices of freshly cut bread. "I'd be far stricter than your mother if you continue acting like a child," she retorted, laying the bread on the table and taking a seat opposite him.
"Not even a little leeway?" Adrian ventured, but a stern glance from Artemia rendered his request unnecessary, the unspoken response abundantly clear.
"So…" Artemia elongated the word, her tone teasingly drawn out. "Do you plan to venture out today, or have you decided to bury yourself within these walls?" She inquired while snatching a morning newspaper from the stand adjacent to the table and unfolding it.
Adrian, taking a bite of his handcrafted sandwich composed of bread and eggs, replied, "There's nothing left for me out there anymore."
"Oh, don't say that," Artemia remarked, her eyes scanning the newspaper without lifting from the page. "There are some noteworthy events happening in the city. If you fancy a dance, 'Velvet Steps' is hosting a quiz and raffle with dancing and champagne tomorrow night."
Adrian regarded her with a puzzled expression. "I thought you didn't care for places like that."
"I don't," she admitted, turning the page. "But if it'll coax you out of this apartment, I don't mind going... just this once."
A faint smile tugged at Adrian's lips. "Places like 'Velvet Steps' are a good reason to stay hidden indoors."
"We could always revisit your 'favorite' 'Fat Beaver,'" Artemia suggested.
"It's not my favorite, and I've only been there once. Even then, I wound up stuck in the basement," Adrian reminisced, a touch of nostalgia in his voice. "It reminded me of that time during..."
"Oh, look at this!" Artemia exclaimed, abruptly turning the newspaper toward Adrian and pointing at a headline.
Adrian reached into his shirt pocket, retrieving a pair of his metal-rimmed glasses before reading the title aloud, "The woodwork factory workers have gone on a total strike; the Liberal Party is calling for a protest tomorrow in Snigograd's Central District." Adrian placed the newspaper down with a hint of agitation in his movements. "You can't be serious about this, Artemia."
"What?" She responded, her mouth still partially filled. "It's the kind of action you've been yearning for, isn't it?"
"I never said I wanted action, especially not participating in a protest," Adrian clarified, gazing once more at the distant headline, "A worker's protest sponsored by the Liberal Party. It's practically an invitation for the government to arrest the strike leaders." He folded his glasses and returned them to his shirt pocket.
Artemia, finishing her meal, rose to her feet, collecting the empty plates and carrying them to the sink for washing. "It might seem that way," she replied, "But perhaps the protest will happen independently of what the Liberal Party is saying. Maybe they just want to support the movement, to show they're aligned with the people, if you catch my drift."
Adrian shook his head firmly. "Out of the question, Artemia. It's far too dangerous."
"But these are my people, Adrian," Artemia protested, her eyes pleading as she turned around, drying her hands on a neatly folded towel.
Adrian countered, "The same people who want you dead because they believe you have a brother working in the police force?"
"You know I didn't mean them," Artemia sighed, chiding him gently.
"Have you heard anything about Viper Valley, by the way?" Adrian asked, changing the subject. "Any news?"
Artemia resumed her seat at the table. "Not much. They've completely taken control of the bar. My friend mentioned they're still searching for me but are beginning to think I've escaped the town."
"You certainly escaped their 'town,'" Adrian quipped. "Thank you for the meal. If you need anything, I'll be in my room." He pushed back his chair and headed toward his sanctuary, his thoughts filled with the turbulence of the city outside and the precarious situation they found themselves in.
"Adrian, I want you to come with me tomorrow," Artemia implored, rising from her seat and taking hold of his arm.
Adrian, caught off guard by the sudden request, hesitated for a moment, his eyes locking onto her hand. "I told you, I..."
"Just say yes for once," Artemia insisted, physically turning him to face her. "I didn't come here to watch you slowly kill yourself with tobacco and booze, with your mind adrift in cheap two-hour reads. You haven't left this place since you were fired from the force, and this can't continue."
Adrian's gaze fell to the floor. "I wasn't fired..."
"I was betrayed," Artemia finished his sentence, her voice soft but resolute. "I know that, but things could have been so much worse. They could have handed you over to the Royal Department, and you know better than me what they're capable of."
"That's true," Adrian acknowledged, his tone heavy. "They're ruthless. I think only my time in the Department protected me, and Chief Inspector Lobakin."
"He sounds like a good man, your Chief."
"Yeah, he was. Until he tied himself to the puppet strings, like the rest of them," Adrian said bitterly, spitting on the floor without thinking.
"Adrian! I just cleaned this floor," Artemia scolded him.
Awkwardly, he reached for a paper and wiped away the mess. "I'm sorry, old habits die hard."
Artemia couldn't help but smirk. "So, are you coming with me to the protest? It's a way to pay back the system that used you and spat you out, much like you did on my floor."
"Your floor?" Adrian's surprise was mixed with a hint of amusement.
"You know what I mean, Adrian," she replied, her cheeks turning a faint shade of red. "So, what's your answer?"
Adrian turned away, his voice just loud enough for Artemia to hear as he walked off. "Fine, I'll go to your damned protest."96Please respect copyright.PENANAHzxUvzLNOX
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