"Lately, I've been thinking about our times in the organization," Jones leaned back against the storage table, pulling a gold coin from his pocket. He spun it idly on the surface, the metallic clink filling the quiet room. "A little nostalgia trip."
Kant crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. "And?"
Jones smirked as he caught the coin mid-spin. "I was thinking—why don't we take that cult apart?"
Kant's brow furrowed. "The cult? Suddenly?"
"Yeah," Jones tossed the coin in the air and caught it lazily. "We used to be the real pros at taking out the trash. Might as well do it once more in honor of the old days. Something good for a change."
"Something good, huh?" Kant asked, his voice inexpressive. "You don't move unless there's something in it for you."
Jones chuckled. "And what do you think that is?"
Frankly, Kant had no idea. They held eye contact, trying to read each other for any clues, but both came up with nothing.
