I-177-Oliver: Captree Main Orbital, Concourse Café
Marissa reaches across the table, puts a hand on his arm, hint of a proud mother’s smile in her eyes.
“Good boy-
“-Man,” she corrects herself.
She will let the weight of that rest for many long seconds. Then their eggs arrive and she takes time to sample some, and drink from her coffee, before commenting casually, “You know, there have been a few times when your father and I have discussed hypothetical situations. ‘Thought experiments’, he calls them.”
“Thanks, mum.”
He looks up. “Ah. Yes, of course. I remember.”
He pauses and eats his food and has some more coffee. “I’ve been thinking about undercover agents lately, and what the different branches of the Dominion have to gain from each other through unofficial means.”