Eris's apartment was close and dark, and it smelled so strongly of incense that Drifter could barely breathe. But he sat alone, his elbows on his knees, staring at the harsh green glow of her Ahamkara bone.
"You know what I want," he whispered. "So go on."
There was nothing. He gripped it between his hands, his mouth curving into a harsh frown. He raised it, shook it roughly, then held it close to his face.
"You hear me?" he hissed.
Nothing.
His shoulders slumped. He held the orb loosely, his eyes closed, and thought of her.
"Be careful with that," Sloane said. He looked up, startled. The deputy commander stood in the threshold of the door. She let her eyes wander for a moment, her jaw set.
"She lived like this?"
Drifter didn't respond. He stood, placing the Ahamkara bone back on the table. Then he made his way to the door. Sloane blocked him with her body before he could leave. He met her eyes, expressionless.
"Where are you going? We need to talk," she said firmly.
"I got nothin' to say," he replied.
"Yes, you do."
He took a few steps back.
"You can't walk away from this. Too much is at stake here. The City relies on you— you have to be ready for when you're needed."
"Haven't you all taken enough from me?" he muttered.
"You're not walking away from this."
"Yeah, I am. You gonna stop me?"
Sloane grabbed him by the collar. He lifted his chin in challenge; she raised a fist.
"You wouldn't," he started, just before it came down on his face.
Sloane let go of his collar. Drifter staggered until his back was against the wall. He flinched as he touched his nose, his fingertips coming away bloody. Then he grinned with red-lined teeth.
"Been a while since I earned one of those," Drifter said, his voice trembling. His smile faltered quickly. He wiped his bloodied upper lip with the back of his hand as his Ghost appeared beside him, coming close and staring mutely with its red eye.
He batted it out of the way and left the room, bleeding.
"Don't go too far," Sloane called after him.
Drifter didn't stop walking.