Hello...? Well I guess I have no right to expect any of you to still be out there reading after so long, but I felt like writing and had some time for once, so... I'm a bit (lot) out of practice, but have another chapter...
The corridors of District Thirteen are even more like those of my first arena than usual when they're as deserted as they are tonight. Everyone's in the Community Hall. From the highest ranking politician to the poor unfortunates who work in the kitchens, they're all watching the big screen, waiting for the last obstacle between us and the Capitol to fall.
It should feel like a victory for the rebels, and in a way it does, but I can't stop thinking that it was never supposed to be like this. I was supposed to be in District One with my family. Falco was supposed to be with me. And if District Thirteen are so right then why do they feel so wrong?
I don't bother knocking when I get to my destination. I push open the door while thinking I probably shouldn't, that there's every chance I'll end up with a knife in my heart and that it'd be my own stupid fault for creeping up on a Victor from District Two if I did. But in the end the shock and pain I half expect doesn't come.
"What are you doing in here on your own?" I ask, because I've barely seen her without the others close by ever since they arrived here. "Where's Velia?"
The tiny room is in total darkness apart from the red, orange and yellow light coming from the television screen as the Mountain Fortress burns. I walk further inside. Ursala still doesn't speak.
"'Sala? What's wrong?"
I stumble when I step forwards again, tripping over something unseen and crashing to the floor with a lack of grace which would horrify virtually everyone back home in District One. I laugh at myself but Ursala doesn't join in. I don't even get one of the teasingly sarcastic comments I've grown so used to over the years.
"District Two is…was my home, Cashmere," she says, her voice steady and even despite her obvious distress. "Look at it."
"The Mountain Fortress was the Capitol's. Now we've won, the battle if not the war."
"I lived in the shadow of that place from the day I was born until the day I was taken to the Training Centre. It might have been the Capitol's but it was occupied by hundreds of district people, and a lot of them weren't there by choice. Now they're all dead, and it wasn't exactly quick and painless, was it?"
"And what was the alternative?" I retort, my voice subconsciously rising to match the anger in hers. "Wave a white flag to Snow and say 'we surrender'?"
"Never," she snarls back.
"Well then," I reply quietly, my anger and confusion vanishing as quickly as it came.
"Think how you'd feel if we were watching District One burn. If you saw your sister's workshop go up in flames and knew everyone who worked there was still inside."
"I know. And I know what loss feels like, don't ever think I don't. But we can't give up. If the Mockingjays stop fighting then it will have all been for nothing."
"Are you serious about going out there?" she asks, abruptly changing the subject as she turns the television off and then flicks a switch so the dim light of a single bulb illuminates the room just enough for me to see her face.
I nod once, finally admitting to her a truth that I can barely acknowledge myself.
"Can you even shoot straight yet?"
"Yes," I snap defiantly.
I scowl across at her, my expression deepening when she catches the hand I intended to hit her with and doesn't let go. She stares right back at me, with her dark hair that gets wilder every day it remains untamed by Capitolian hair products framing her sharply narrowed eyes.
"I meant what I said," she says, sounding a lot like she does when she's telling Velia off for doing something she shouldn't. "You look about as much like a Mockingjay soldier as I look like a Capitolian fashion model. And you wouldn't last out there even if you made it out of here. Which you wouldn't, because you know Coin wouldn't let you leave."
"I'm not stupid, District Two," I reply dryly. "I'm going to One first. Satin's opened the district to the rebel army because it's so close to the Capitol. I can figure out what to do next from there."
"Cashmere," she says, her voice suddenly so uncharacteristically soft that I know what she's going to say before she can speak.
"He's not dead, 'Sala. If he was dead then I'd know. I'd feel it in here," I answer, lifting my hand so it rests on my chest over my heart.
We stare at each other in silence for a minute, and I can barely breathe as I wait for her to contradict me. But then she laughs and shakes her head.
"Honestly you people are so sentimental," she teases. "How did District One ever have any Victors?"
I roll my eyes before standing up, throwing my hair back and posing as if she had a camera.
"Our stunning good looks and winning personalities, of course," I reply, laughing lightly and almost but not quite meaning it as I fight back thoughts of everything Snow's Capitol did to both of us.
"You're laughing because if you didn't then you'd cry, District One," she says, suddenly deadly serious again.
"And you'd know, wouldn't you?"
"Not really. I didn't cry but I never laughed much either."
I don't know what to say to that so I say nothing and sit down beside her instead, gazing at the blank screen because she prefers it to watching her home burn.
We stay sitting there until Astraea and Gloss appear some indeterminable time later, and I still can't find words as my brother leads me away to our own room.
"I saw your friend's daughter today," Gloss says eventually, finally looking at me. "She's not exactly shy and retiring, is she?"
"You mean Velia?" I ask, thinking about Ursala's girl, who to me seems confident but not overly extrovert when it comes to anything but fighting. "What makes you say that?"
"A group of refugees from Twelve were being pushed around by some District Thirteen soldiers. She gave them a piece of her mind and then some. Then she stayed around and we talked."
"Talked?" I say suspiciously, suspecting I'm going to find out why he abruptly appears even more on edge than usual.
"She says her mother thinks you're going to try to get to the Capitol because you think you'll be able to find Falco."
"Oh," I reply, not knowing what else to say.
"Are you? When you say we're going back to One, are you saying it because you want us to go home or because it's closer to the Capitol? Because it might be closer to where you think Falco is but it's also closer to Snow and Prisca Oakhurst and all those people who tortured us. I'm not in a rush to go back for nothing."
"He's still alive, Gloss. I know it. But I wouldn't ask you to come with me."
"You wouldn't have to ask, Cash. You wouldn't have a choice. Because I wouldn't leave you now, no matter what."
I know what he's doing by saying that. It might be true, but it's his way of trying to protect me as well. He knows I might risk myself but that I'd never risk him. He knows me too well.
"I love you more than anything, Gloss, but I love him too. And he loves me and he thinks he watched me die."
"We'll go to One with the Mockingjays. If there's any trace of Falco or Narissa or anyone else we know then we'll hear about it first. Anything else would be suicide and you know that as well as I do."
"But promise me you won't be dyeing your hair and dressing in grey. You have to promise me, Cashmere. No joining the Mockingjays."
"Do you really think they'd have me?"
"I'm being serious, Cash."
"I promise. Honestly, I promise I won't. Not unless all seems lost. If it goes badly for us then I'd rather die than live in a Panem where the rebellion failed and the Capitol won."
"I'd be with you, sister mine, if it came to that."
I smile back at him sadly, knowing I'd kill us both before I surrendered to Snow again.
"For what?" he asks softly.
"Thank you for not trying to tell me Falco's dead."
"Why would I? You wouldn't believe me if I did. If I were you then I wouldn't believe anything but what I saw myself either, not after what happened to us."
"Cashmere! Cashmere!" shouts the voice through the door that's literally rattling with the force of the blows constantly raining down upon it. "Cashmere!"
The voice is strangely familiar but not quite right at the same time, and for a second I'm still almost asleep and can't place it. But then I know, and after exchanging glances with Gloss, I rise to my feet and pull the door open.
"Velia, what is it? What's wrong?" I ask, hurried and anxious because she's scaring me. "Is it Ursala?"
"No, no, she's fine," the young woman replies. "Astraea sent me to find you. She said you have to go to Command right now."
"Why? I don't understand."
"She didn't say, she just said we had to find you. She went in a different direction and so did Mother."
"And she says she hopes you'll find a way to forgive her if she's wrong," she adds, cutting me off before I can question her further.
"Come on!" she yells, grabbing my wrist and pulling me into the corridor.
"Forgive her for what?! Velia!"
Ursala's daughter drags me all the way down countless staircases, sprinting as fast as she can, which unfortunately is a lot faster than I could manage even when I was eighteen and about to go into the arena. Therefore it's with a confused sigh of relief that I find myself a few short metres from the path to Command.
I can hear raised voices, unusual considering District Thirteen's typical unshakeable discipline, and when I turn the corner I'm shocked to find the guards looking as unsettled as they sound. They turn around to face me, raising their hands to tell me to go no further, but I shake my head.
"What's going on? What's happened?"
"If it concerns you then you'll be informed later, Miss de Montfort," replies one of them, but he takes a step back when I scowl and snarl at him.
"Don't give me that. I'm sick of being told what does and doesn't concern me. Someone I trust a lot more than I trust any of you said I should come here, so I'm not leaving until I understand why."
By the time I finish my last sentence, they're so shocked by my outburst that I've made it as far as the slightly open door without my progress being halted. I take a deep breath, intending to find out what Coin's up to that would stir Astraea and Ursala into such a frenzy, but then I stop to listen to the voices inside the room.
What I hear literally makes me stop breathing.
"Because I would kill Snow with my bare hands if I had even the vaguest hint of a chance. You know what he did, and I don't just mean the Quell. I had to watch him break the woman I love over and over again. I had to be strong and put her back together because for some reason I still can't comprehend, she always ran to me. Before she went into the arena for the second time, she made me promise to bring the bastard down. So I'm here keeping the promise I made to she who was everything to me."
My eyes and cheeks are wet with tears that slide from my face onto the silk of my shirt before I even manage to reach out and push the door open. One of the guards tries to grasp my arm but I shake him off without thinking, lashing out with enough strength to send him reeling across the corridor. I don't look back.
For a brief second I take in the scene before me. I see the stunned people sitting around the glass table, the flashing lights on the wall-mounted maps, and my heart skips a beat when I see Felix and Narissa, alive and standing in the room with me. But then I see him and nothing else matters.
I'm speechless after my first glimpse of him, after I see him standing in front of Heavensbee with the darkness of grief etched into his beloved face. All thoughts of saying something grand and impressive vanish without a trace.
"I love you, too," I stammer eventually, only just able to make myself speak at all.
His whole body becomes totally still when he hears my voice, a complete contrast to Narissa and Felix, who both gasp in shock. Everyone, even President Coin, is silent and staring. I take a few steps forward. Though I want nothing more than to run to him, for some reason I can barely move.
He stumbles towards me, but before I can put my arms around him, he sinks to his knees, heedless of the entire population of Command looking on.
"Are you real?" he whispers, resting his forehead against my stomach. "You can't be real, they made me watch you die, they fired your cannon. They took you from me…"
I try to reply, to tell him about Prisca and The Vault and District Thirteen and Ursala and District Two and everything else that's happened, but I can't. Instead I pull him back to his feet and then cling to him when he holds me so tightly that my feet leave the floor. Waves of pain shoot up my burnt side, but I ignore them, knowing that if I react to them then Falco will put me down.
"I should have known. Cash always said you were alive. She never doubted for a second."
But I did, I think to myself, hearing my brother's words as I cling to Falco, my hands folded tightly around the front of his ripped and torn shirt. There were moments when I thought I'd lived and he'd died, the opposite of what all the rest of the world outside Thirteen believed. There were moments when I thought I was being delusional and that everyone around me telling me he'd gone were right.
"You're both… But how? How?"
I look up at Falco, almost smiling both just to see him again and at the unusually visible expression of shocked disbelief on his face.
"It doesn't matter now," I say softly. "Just let me not think about any of it for a while."
"But I meant what I said in there. I watched you both die. Gloss, that arrow went through your-"
"-eye," finishes my brother with a hint of his old dry humour. "Yes, I had noticed."
"But your injuries… You shouldn't have survived, either of you."
"You're the Capitolian," I tell him, smiling to take the sting from my words. "You know more about the wonders of Capitol medicine than I ever will."
"I just spent so much time thinking you were dead, grieving for you, seeing you every time I closed my eyes and most of the rest of the time as well. I can't believe you're real."
"I know how that feels."
"I thought you knew I was alive," he teases, catching my hand in his as I swipe at him.
"It's almost a shame the gossip channels aren't broadcasting at the moment," says Narissa as she steps inside the room and quickly closes the door behind herself like she's trying to keep District Thirteen out. "They could make an entire programme out of you two."
"What about me?" asks Gloss quietly, and the Capitolian woman's vivid green eyes widen as she sees him for the first time.
"I should have guessed when I saw your sister," she says, crossing over to him and raising her hand to touch the scar where his eye used to be. "Someday I'll do the same to Snow," she whispers.
"Katniss Everdeen did this," he replies, still with hatred in his voice even now.
"And who put you both in the Hunger Games arena? She's not my dream of an ideal figurehead for the rebellion but when it comes to the Games she was a victim as well."
"You sound like her," says Falco, speaking so quietly I barely hear him.
"I'm trying," replies Narissa, shocking me with how shaky she sounds. "She was always the best of us."
"Vesper," says Gloss, interrupting before I can finish or Narissa can answer. "And for what it's worth, I doubt she'd agree. I'm so sorry, 'Rissa."
"What are you sorry for?" she snaps, finally losing her usually unshakeable cool. "Heavensbee will help me get her out of there. She's not dead!"
"I didn't say she was. But you had to leave her behind. That's why I'm sorry."
She stares at him, her eyes travelling from the tips of his hideous District Thirteen military boots to the top of his head and his too-short-for-Gloss haircut. Then she sighs.
"I need some air. Can I even get outside here?"
"They might let me upstairs if I look unstable enough," he replies, abruptly sounding something like the person I remember as he smiles down at her.
"Won't that just make them lock you up again?" I retort teasingly.
"Not if I take 'Rissa to protect me."
"Because she'll terrify a group of armed District Thirteen guards, won't she?" I quip back mockingly.
"Sarcasm doesn't suit you, Butterfly," whispers Narissa, reaching up to tuck a curl of my hair behind my ear before quickly leaving the room.
"I'll leave you as well," says Gloss, smiling at me and then at Falco.
"I told you he wasn't dead," I repeat, tightening my grip on Falco's arm even more.
"And you were right, Cash. Now we've just got to kill Snow."
"We'll win," says Falco before I can speak, his voice the same fierce hiss I first heard back in Command. "I know it's easy to say and I'm sure everyone's saying it, but we will. And I'm right about that because none of us can afford to be wrong."
A couple of hours later when the whole of Thirteen has stopped for the night we're alone again, and for the first time in my life with him, I'm afraid. When he reaches for the bottom of my shirt and begins to lift it up, I pull away. Even as consumed by him as I am and think I always will be, I'm suddenly terrified of the look I'll see on his face when he sees me as I am now. I'm being stupid, I know. He loves me, not just my body, but I can't help it. I can't fight my fear.
"Cashmere?" he asks softly, stepping back to look at me without releasing my hands.
I can see the confusion in his eyes. And he called me Cashmere. He knows something's wrong.
"Falco, I… when I was in the Vault… I-"
"Butterfly, you can tell me anything. What is it? Please."
"I… I can't… It's not something I can tell you," I reply, quickly unbuttoning my shirt before I change my mind. "You have to see."
I look down as I let the fabric fall to the floor, carefully avoiding his eyes. They've healed my burns well here in District Thirteen, with medicine almost as advanced as the Capitol's, but they have no need for scar removal treatments in this militaristic society. The remnants of my torture cover the entire left side of my torso, the red and twisted skin bearing no resemblance to the flawless pale perfection he surely must be remembering as he looks at what I've become.
"Falco, I'm sorry," I manage, not knowing what to say or where to start.
"You're sorry?" he echoes, his words coming out in an angry hiss as he lets my hands go only to grasp my shoulders and push me back against the wall. "Why in Panem are you sorry?! Who did that to you?! Oakhurst? I'll kill her. I swear it. I'll kill her with my bare hands for this."
I stare back at him, totally unable to speak.
I nod slowly. "How much did Plutarch tell you?" I whisper. "You know about the Vault? About the other Victors?"
"Yes. I know about how they faked your death and fired your cannon when you were still alive. I should have worked it out, but…" He stops himself and takes a visibly deep breath. "And I know about Mellark and Mason. And Enobaria."
"And about Satin?"
"District One's going to be the rebel army's base when we move on the Capitol, yes?" He nods and I'm not surprised he's already worked that one out. "That's why they kept Gloss and me alive, partly anyway. Prisca Oakhurst put sugar in a bucket of boiling water and poured it over me. Then she sent a recording to Satin. With Sapphire's necklace so she'd believe it was genuine," I add, reaching for the pendant and gripping it tightly.
"To try to keep Satin loyal to the Capitol?"
"To stop her from handing the district over to the rebels. Snow already knew she wasn't loyal by then, so they told her they'd kill me if she didn't do as she was told. Or worse."
He shakes his head sadly and raises his hand, his fingers brushing lightly over my scarred skin.
"Does it hurt?"
"Not much, not now. It just feels strange. Like I'm wearing a belt that's fastened so tight I can't move properly."
"Did you honestly think that would stop me wanting you? Do you think so little of me?"
"I… No. I just didn't want to see the look on your face when you saw it. It's ugly. And my father always told me I'm not allowed to ever be ugly. I guess it's something I remember, whether I want to or not."
"Your father's dead, Cashmere. And I love you, no matter what. You're beautiful, and even if you weren't then I'd love you anyway."
"What happened to you?" I ask softly, pulling myself even closer to him and hoping he'll finally tell me because there's no way it can be worse than what I've spent the past months imagining.
"I watched you die," he says, suddenly holding me so tight I can barely breathe. "I watched you throw yourself in front of Gloss and then I watched you fall. Even now when I'm holding you in my arms, I can still see you lying there bleeding out on that beach."
"I know, but I'm right here. I'm not dead. I thought you were though. What happened in the Capitol?"
"I stayed in the Control Room until the very end. But when I thought you and Gloss were dead… I can't describe it. It was like…like I was so full of grief and anger that I didn't care if I lived or died. I just wanted revenge, to hurt someone, to make someone pay. I went to the City Circle, to Snow's mansion. I wasn't thinking straight. I wasn't thinking at all."
"He'd have had you killed, Falco," I hiss, horrified at the thought of him being in that place that haunts my nightmares even now. "You'd got a price on your head before you even left the Control Room."
"I didn't care. I think I wanted to die. But Vesper stopped me from getting any closer."
"She was there, waiting in the shadows like she knew I'd end up there. She reminded me about what we'd planned, about what I needed to do if I really wanted to hurt the government I thought had killed you."
"Yes. I copied it months ago. The day they announced the Quarter Quell. I suppose I always expected Snow to do something like what he did."
"So you got out. But how? How did you get that hovercraft out of the city?"
"Vesper rigged the radar surveillance system to buy us some time," he replies, and I feel rather than see him smile slightly. "She's good with computers."
"I'm guessing that's an understatement?"
"Just a bit. But she had to be in the room to control it. That's how the three of us got out and she didn't. I'll never forget Narissa flying us out of there. I'll never forget the look on her face."
"Is Vesper dead?"
"I don't know. They'll have had some kind of plan though. 'Rissa wouldn't have left if they hadn't. There's only one thing she loves more than her vision of Panem and that's Vesper."
I shake my head, not convinced the sly and manipulative politician I know is even capable of real love.
"So now what?"
"We need to speak to Heavensbee. Alone."
"Something's not right here. Besides, I'm not leaving you again. We're going to District One."
"I was always going to. I wanted to look for you," I say, deliberately ignoring his raised eyebrows. "But why do you want to go? You got the map, you know as much about the Capitol as Heavensbee. Don't you have to stay here?"
He leans down to whisper into my ear, reminding me sharply of our years in the Capitol where the walls always had ears and we could never be too careful.
"Because this war needs another Command Centre as well as this one. Something's not right here. I know you can sense it as well as I can."
"That's not the point. This war's running on District Thirteen soldiers and the threat of District Thirteen nuclear weapons. There is no other Command Centre. They're in charge."
I shake my head sadly and lie back down, resigned to my fate. I've had him back for less than a day and we're already on our way to getting caught up in yet another power struggle.
"This is it," he says, as able to read my thoughts as he ever was. "This is the beginning of the end, I promise."
"Peace doesn't exist, Falco. Not for me. It never has and it never will."
"I don't believe that."
"It doesn't matter. I've got you back, and that's enough for me. You're alive and Gloss is alive. That's more than I could ever have dreamed of."
"There will be peace in Panem, Cashmere. I promise."
"Don't make promises you can't keep."
"Have I ever lied to you?"
"Don't start now."
"Cashmere," Narissa purrs as she steps back from the door to her compartment and holds it open for me. "Please, come in. Join us."
"'Rissa, I don't think this is the time or the place for games," calls Falco from inside.
He'd left hours before breakfast this morning and I knew he was going to see her without him having to say so. Like it or not, she's part of this and he can't and won't work without her.
"This is District Thirteen, Falco," she replies, her bright green eyes locked with mine. "A girl has to take what little entertainment she can find."
"And you never did miss an opportunity to wind me up, did you, Narissa?" I say, deliberately ignoring her refusal to step away so I can pass without touching her and pushing past anyway.
"You make it almost too easy really, but only almost."
I shake my head and cross the small room to stand beside Falco. He goes to rise from the only chair, but stops when I shake my head again and sit on his lap. Narissa doesn't bat an eyelid and reclines apparently casually on her bed. However when I look at her far-too-perfect face, her expression is anything but casual.
"I'm leaving for District One tomorrow, whether we speak to Heavensbee or not," she announces, glancing at the door and frowning. "Then I'm going to the front line."
I laugh. I can't help it. I can't stop myself.
"You? In a war zone? Aren't you worried you'll break a nail?"
She narrows her eyes sharply at me but doesn't get chance to reply before the door swings open.
"Do you make a habit of walking into other people's bedrooms?" she asks teasingly at the same time as I recognise a figure more familiar to me than my own.
"Gloss? What are you doing up?"
"I'm coming with you," he says, looking at each of us in turn. "I'm not staying here."
"Who says we're going anywhere?" I ask immediately. "We're not," I add, gesturing to myself and Falco. "Not yet."
"Really?" my brother retorts. "You might think that now, but 'Rissa's going to District One and then Panem knows where. She'll say she's keeping an eye on the Thirteens for Heavensbee, and she will, but really she's going to look for Vesper and Falco knows it. He won't let 'Rissa go alone and you won't let him go without you. And I won't let you go without me, so I guess we're all going."
I sigh and stare wordlessly at my brother, wishing for what must be the millionth time that he'd been born with a few less brain cells. He knew what was going to happen before I did. He could see it before any of us, except perhaps Narissa, and I imagine her thoughts only went as far as finding Vesper.
"I'm not giving up on her," says the Capitolian woman. "And that means for probably the first time ever, I think we understand each other," she adds, glancing pointedly behind me at Falco.
I can only nod, wondering how all four of us are going to get out of here. Five, actually, because I can't see Felix being left behind.
"Coin's up to something," says Falco. "I think she's imagining the whole of Panem as one big District Thirteen."
"You mean overthrowing Snow only to replace him with herself?" retorts my brother instantly, like he's known it all along.
"Exactly. I've lived my entire life in the presence of one power-hungry egomaniac so I know more than enough to recognise the signs in another."
"But don't we need her? Or at least her soldiers and her weapons."
"Yes," replies Narissa, holding out her hand until he sits beside her on the bed. "But only until we've taken the Capitol. Then it's up to us. The people of Panem, I mean."
"You still sound like Vesper," says Falco sadly, and I remember then that he's known Narissa's partner almost as long as Narissa herself has.
"They said we were dead and we're here, aren't we?" she growls fiercely. "All of us. Until Snow's broadcasting news footage of her dead body, I won't believe she's dead. And maybe even then I wouldn't believe it, not after the façade he maintained with this place."
Gloss' eyes flick to mine and I know he's thinking she sounds like I did before Falco arrived in District Thirteen and everyone in Panem but me thought he was dead.
This time when I walk into Command, it feels different. Falco's here, and although the fiercely independent part of me loathes to admit it, he makes me feel safe and like I've got everything under control. With him by my side, I have the strength to walk in to face Coin with my head held high.
"What do you want?" snaps a clearly ruffled President of District Thirteen before we even leave the corridor.
However when we enter, I quickly realise the question wasn't directed at us at all.
"How long have you got?" retorts Narissa from her position at the head of the massive table.
She leans nonchalantly back in Coin's own chair, crossing her legs at the ankles on the table in front of her. I'd wondered where she'd gone when she left the dining hall before any of us and now I know.
"I am the president of this district and you have no right-"
"Oh!" exclaims the Capitolian woman, pretending to suddenly realise where she is. "Is this your chair? I'm so terribly sorry," she continues, not sounding the slightest bit apologetic.
It's an effort to stop myself from laughing as Heavensbee arrives with his small entourage and stops in the doorway beside me.
"Is there a problem?" he asks, nodding politely to President Coin and Narissa.
"Of course not, Plutarch," replies Narissa, rising gracefully and somehow managing to make it look like she's giving up her chair to Coin as a special favour. "Just making friends with our new allies before I leave."
"Yes," says Falco firmly. "Cashmere and Gloss wish to return to District One and both Narissa and I feel we will be of more use to our cause if we're closer to the front line. There are few who know the Capitol as well as we do and you should have people you can trust to pass messages and new instructions to the commanders in the field."
"And you're proposing we trust you?" interjects Coin disbelievingly.
"Considering we're the reason you have the map you're busy installing onto every single Holo, yes, I am proposing that you trust us."