Hal watched him go, resisting the urge to squeeze and flex his paw to alleviate the painful tingling left in it by Baastian's crushing grip.

All eyes will be on me. His higher reasoning scoffed. As if they weren't already. I've been watched every moment I've been here, and you lot ain't got shit on me, and you know it. I'll play your game, Blondie. And what's more, I'll beat you at it. Imperial Knight Kyle Rayner has a nice ring to it. Almost as nice as the ring in the bowl of my 'fresher.

A glance back at the Platform of Living Hell, and the Nehantite shook his head. If it were this easy to become a Knight, how much harder would it be to corrupt things from within? He'd already made a dent in the indoctrination of several cadets, so perhaps being promoted could grant him further ability to sow seeds of curiosity and questions which the Empire would prefer its little pawns not to ask. Garfife knew that Onika was already asking them, at least to herself.

It was settled, then. Hal would play along, acting the man that the Empire thought they had made him, while continuing to twist the rules just beneath the surface of it all. He needed a few more weeks, at minimum, before his escape plan would be ready. He only prayed that his actions would secure Onika's compliance in it, or at least her silence, should she suspect.

---

The following week proceeded as Hal imagined it would. Classes continued their schedule, training and exercise were observed, and meals followed their clockwork timing. But all was not the same.

The rumors which had circulated that Hal was in fact an undercover Knight, meant to spy on the cadets, became louder, as many joked that he was so obvious that clearly the Empire had to fake a Knighting ceremony just to pull him out of his "cover." It was a rumor Hal had done nothing to counter, and he inwardly enjoyed the many conspiracy theories he'd overheard about himself. What he did not enjoy, however, was the cold, bitter looks he received from Onika each time they crossed paths, though those looks were brief as she avoided him as much as possible. He couldn't blame her, really, even if it had been an act, there were elements of his deception which she might have taken to be true, so he respected her privacy, and refrained from attempting to socialize with her.

Until one evening, ten days after it had all gone down, Hal couldn't stand it anymore. He had to speak to her. He had to know, and the perfect opportunity opened before him.

Off of the library's south end jutted a small balcony, a former stim-smoker's hangout, back in his day, and one of the few places in the Citadel which wasn't bugged - he knew, having studied it intensely - and there he spotted her, standing alone, likely just getting some air. His booted footpaws clipped along the low-pile carpet, until he reached the door, where he paused, then opened it slowly before taking a breath and walking out to lean on the railing.

"I'd say it's a lovely night, but you and I both know it was engineered to be this way," he said, not looking at Onika, but out to the cityscape beyond.

His head lowered, eyes closing, as it wasn't the view he had come for, but the company. "Please, don't go," he asked, feeling Onika ready to pull away. "I... I wanted to apologize. I was wrong to let you follow me. I was wrong to put you in danger. And I was wrong to mislead you like I did. Can you forgive me?"