That made her a little uncomfortable, and even harder for her to ask what she wanted to ask, or to think of how she would phrase it. Pallas felt a strange irritation, an urge to do something she hadn't since she could remember. She struggled, but it surfaced anyway.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen Pallas nervous. If ever. The girl had been her most reliable toon leader; responsible, dedicated, and always reserved and in control. Never nervous. Never fidgety. And never with that pale flush and averted gaze like she had now. Dante wasn't quite certain what could have ruffled Pallas's feathers so much, and she raised an eyebrow even as she leaned her elbows on her knees and smiled slightly at the girl.

"This afternoon - that is, two days ago, rather, Swede and I met a pair of the Jaydes. We played together in the simulator and wiped out a good number of the enemy. One of the Jaydes...Kevo," she paused and then continued, ignoring the blush that touched her cheeks. "Kevo agreed to meet me that evening, but he didn't show up, and I dismissed it."

The girl was quiet and reserved again, and Dante dropped the friendly bantering to look understandingly at her. "Look, Pallas. I bet he doesn't know either. Just... be friends, I suppose. Who knows? You just met him. Maybe he'll be insufferable and cocky--" Like Nicolai, her mind added. "Or maybe that's just a Jayde facade."

Pallas shook her head in surprise. What was wrong with her?

Without meaning it to be, Dante's sigh was tired as she rested her chin in her hands and looked toward Pallas. "I hope it does work for you, Pallas. Really. And I'm here to talk, if you need to..." her smile was weary as she finally pushed herself standing, straightening her uniform and brushing her tousled curls back with familiar movements. Even this confidence with Pallas was new; they'd always been so withdrawn from one another. Perhaps kindred spirits and they'd never had a chance to discover it.

They'd made a small game of it, Donovan dressing (and sometimes undressing) her, Dante adding to or removing his clothing in mirror fashion, and as a result, they often got distracted from their goal...but Donovan was nothing if not persistent, and they were finally approaching completion. He doubted either of them would ever forget how to put the thing together efficiently again - or how to take it apart.

Finished at last, he quite near her and alternately stroked her hair or tickled her as she tried to pin the final section onto him, but she was also admirably persistent, and succeeded far too quickly, in his opinion. He stepped back to look her over from head to toe and sighed.

He hadn't known her as a Commander in BattleSchool, but her precise poise and bearing, even in this relaxed situation, made her uniform seem oddly incomplete with the commander's bars on it. He had no doubt she would get a commission for Quad Commander, when the time came and she had reached the appropriate age. His only regret was that, no matter what happened, he wouldn't be here to see it.

The last few days had been far too brief, their relationship oscillating between the joyful new discoveries that love made of little things they'd taken for granted and the desperate attachment of approaching separation. At best, they had six months to hold each other dearly before Donovan and Dominic were either moved to IFC or brought home to the creche.

At worst, they had less than a week, and despite the interruptions Nathan had given them, they shared an unspoken agreement not to bring up the subject of Review. In comparison, the parade review the new headmaster had organized seemed almost laughably unimportant. Neither wanted to taint the little time they had with petty worries or concerns.

No, she told herself sternly, you can't. She didn't want to mar this moment with tears, no matter how happy they might be. She didn't want to upset this perfect balance of love that they'd managed to create.

But the look in his eyes when he said that...

She smiled up at him, lifted a hand to trace light fingertips across the line of his jaw. So handsome. And hers, only hers... until the day she'd sworn she wasn't going to think about. Dante didn't want to imagine him being taken away. It wasn't going to happen. There had to be a way, somehow, to keep him near him. So that when she did have commander's bars on her uniform, he'd be there to share the accomplishment with her.

He went everywhere. First, the barracks, but even their greens weren't around to ask if they'd seen him. Dante's room in Phoenix Quad was next, until he remembered some vague notion that there was a reason she wasn't staying there; that reason made itself clear the moment Nicolai stepped into the cell and started harassing him about Rox. Too focused on his task at hand to care about Mishkin, Dominic departed and began his hunt in earnest.

The commons. Mess hall. Game arena. Library, again, just to be sure. The observatory. Even the command room. Still nothing. Tired and a little frantic now, Dom ran all the way to Rox's room. She might have some idea. It was a long stretch hope, but he was at his wit's end.

Turns out he asked the right person.

"They're in Pallas' room, sweets. Been there all morning. Why?" He didn't answer, leaving Rox to watch him curiously as he entered the other cell without knocking and stopped in the doorway. His brother and Dante were straightening eachother's uniforms, giggling quietly, until Donovan glanced up and met his gaze. Midnight hit midnight, and even Dante remained silent as the two brothers stared at one another for a long, heavy moment.

When Donovan finally looked away to smile reassuringly at Dante, who had tugged on his hand questioningly, Dominic had only one word to say.

"Tonight."

Then he turned and left. He heard Dante question his twin, and that made him smile to himself. Tonight, Anjelice, we're going to kill Nathan Terrence.

He untangled himself from Dante gently and turned away, gathering his thoughts after his brother left. She was already asking him what was happening, and he tried desperately to decide what to tell her. Lying to her would save her grief, but compromising their trust so soon after it had been crafted wasn't something he wanted to risk, not without good reason.

When he faced her once again he didn't ignore her speech and take her in his arms as he wished to do. Instead, he met her eyes with unerring direct intensity. She would have truth, or nothing at all. He didn't know any details yet; maybe that was a blessing. He could truthfully tell her that he didn't know, and avoid her until it was done. It felt deceitful anyway, and Donovan frowned internally. Having a conscience to prod him was still new, and he was quickly realizing the negative aspects that came with "love". After spending his entire life in the moral freedom of the creche, adjusting to considering someone else's feelings before his own still chafed. His twin, of course, didn't really count. Their feelings had always been the same, before Dante.

Easy or not, he was stuck with it anyway, but he wasn't going to simply hand over the misery he knew she would feel when she found out what "tonight" meant.

"Yes," she answered simply, still meeting his eyes. "Tell me."

He paused, straightening silently to regard her with careful calm. Dante stood her ground, watching him just as closely, mind running a thousand miles a minute, trying to analyze, to examine, to discover the source of his unease. Tonight. What could that possibly mean? And what was so terrible that he was hesitating to tell her?

Not hesitating. Donovan leaned closer to kiss her, and despite her initial impulse to back away she let him, his lips grazing hers softly as he whispered. "No." No. He'd just refused. Her fears were grounded. But she trusted him-- why wasn't he trusting her enough to tell her?

"Fine," she managed, a trifle coldly. She couldn't help it; hurt ice crept into her tone, and she was unable to do anything save meet his eyes with frosted violet before turning away. He reached out a hand to touch her shoulder, and she shrugged it off. Dante might be easy-going in love, but she felt shut out, and it hurt more than she cared to admit. When the door slid open, she looked back over her shoulder, as if more words were just a civil response to his presence. "I need to go back to my own quad. I'll see you after review."