The coffee shop was...well...as cheap on the inside as it had looked on the outside. There were no name brands, no fancy breakfast blends, and not a single frappe-anything to be seen. There wasn’t even a trendy chalk board with witty comments on it to welcome customers.

This was quite possibly the cheapest, most non-descript coffee bar that Tarin had ever seen. And it was where Slate had requested they meet. Between classes. So that he didn’t have to go out of his way.

Tarin sighed at the whole situation. His former boss, the leader of a multi-national organization that had taken over the governments of two countries was now too busy with college to do anything but grab a quick cup of coffee with someone who had been one of his right hands. Oh, and send him hooters gift cards for Christmas. The medium still wanted to face-palm every time he thought about the gift.

Another sigh.

Yes. His conversation with Lenna had been months ago, and yes Tarin had agreed to continue helping the Kabal in any way possible. It was just that...well...nothing had happened. Life was still lifing, and more and more Tarin wondered what the point of it all was. They’d been doing something with the Kabal. They’d been making one hell of a difference. Yeah, the cost had been high, but every second had been worth it.

He needed to know why on several levels. Why had Slate given everything up? Why had he turned the reigns over to Lenna with such little fanfare? And most importantly. Why hadn’t Tarin been told? Or consulted? Or offered at least a piece of the leadership pie?

Hopefully Slate would have answers. If he showed up.

He was already 20 minutes late.

He was not twenty minutes late: that would be absurd.

He was certainly three minutes late, but Tarin would no doubt prefer that he not be covered in grease and oil when he arrive. A proper hand-washing was well justified.

Additionally, he was another seven minutes late—but one cannot ignore one's instructor, even if the talk is of an informal nature. He finally got a chance to ask her about airplane mechanical programs—also, how her holiday break had gone. She promised to look into things for him, and it had gone quite well, as the cellphone photos of her Pomeranian in various holiday costumes proved. (His favorite was the Santa's Sleigh Mechanic outfit.)

After that, the walk from the engine shop to the student union was a mere minute and a half; two, when one stops to tie his shoe (it was a good return on a thirty-second investment).

As he only had an hour break until his next lecture began, he of course had to stop by the cafeteria upstairs—selecting a saran-wrapped sandwich off of the shelf took less time than the shoe tying. Unfortunately, the person in front of him paid in cash. He... had not seen cash since 1914. They still had it in this century? The cashier seemed equally confused, judging by the pace at which she completed the transaction.

And then there were the stairs down, and the halls over to the coffee shop itself.

...Perhaps "twenty minutes late" was not an altogether improper estimate for the time Slate arrived, a smudge of grease still on one cheek, a backpack slung over one shoulder, and a tuna sandwich in his hand.

"My apologies, Tarin," he said, slightly out of breath. "I failed to factor in certain elements of my commute to our meeting time. How have you been?"

Tarin shrugged as Slate apologized. ”I’m just glad you could pencil me in.” he said dryly, then gestured at the seat across from him at the table.

As to how he’d been. ”Not too bad, all things considered. Kevin is starting to sleep a little more regularly, so that helps.”

Might as well get the niceties out of the way. ”How about you?”

Slate was still not an expert on such matters, but he sensed that Tarin was not entirely pleased with him. Some sarcasm may also have been involved.

"It... was no problem," Slate stated, easing his backpack to the floor as he sat down in a chair across from the older man. "I have been doing well," he replied, because he knew that such inquires were primarily a scripted conversational construct. That is: Tarin probably did not care about the true answer, yet.

The former Kabal Leader may have stared too long at his former employee. "It is good to see you again, Tarin. Really."

His tone was perhaps too heartfelt for someone that has only been out of touch a few months; he did not think it was inappropriate when seeing a friend again for the first time in nearly two years, however.

"I suppose you have some questions for me," he said; a conversational construct employed when moving past the niceties.

Tarin simply nodded his head when Slate cut the polite BS.

”Mostly just why...” he said, trying to keep a level head. Shouting at a teenager in the middle of a coffee shop made no sense.

Mostly. Tarin felt like a fool. No, worse. Tairn knew he was a fool. He’d ran halfway across the world twice for the child sitting across from him. Nearly lost his life, had lost Lee, if only briefly. Yeah. He wanted to know why.

”Was it all for nothing?” He said, calmly.

The man sounded calm out loud. Slate was trying very hard not to overhear his thoughts, which sounded somewhat less pleased.

...halfway across the world twice... for the child...

"We diffused a civil war and halted a repeat of the Mutant Registration Act in its infancy. Do you really think that is that nothing, Tarin?" The former Kabal leader asked, tuna sandwich sitting unopened in his lap. Campus life continued around them, unaware and uncaring of who they were, or who they had been.

Damn Slate. Damn Slate and all his logic, and damn Slate for probably having at least a general idea of what was going on inside his head.

Tarin sighed and slumped back into his chair in the cheap little coffee shop. A hand ran through hair that couldn't have possibly gotten more messy than it already was, and the medium shrugged.

"It's not that. You're taking me too literally." Tarin said, but what had he expected?

" But that's just it Slate. Those were amazing things. Amazing things that we did. Causes we were ready to die for. There was so much more to be done...and then nothing?"

Tarin looked off into the distance for a minute before bringing his attention back to his former boss. "I didn't know a damn thing until Lenna brought me into her office thinking that I was some kind of grunt. I had to explain everything to her. That is what I don't get. "

Slate set his sandwich aside, with the greatest of finesse and the slightest hint of resignation. He would simply eat it on the way to class; he had never attempted such coordination before, but college was a place of learning.

"I... did not originally intend for Lenna to be in charge on any sort of permanent basis," he began, attempting not to sit so stiffly. Nor did reclining seem appropriate. He had seen speech classes in the college catalogue, but were there any on body language? He must look into this later.

"I had something of an... extended summer vacation." In Serbia. In 1913. "Consequently, I have acquired knowledge sufficient to revise my prior stance on affecting the course of global diplomacy."

Perhaps a speech course would not be amiss for the next term, either. This... was not coming out as naturally as he had hoped. Perhaps he should state things more simply?

The young man met his former employee's eyes. "One man can change the world, Tarin. But that does not necessarily mean that he should."

Change implied a difference; it did not imply an improvement.

Gavrilo had died in prison. What was he going to be, before Katrina and he had entered his life? Not as well remembered by history, perhaps.

Perhaps that was not entirely a bad thing.

One man could change the world...but that didn't mean that he should...

"But like you just said...we did so much good...." it didn't matter. Not at all.

"You did change the world though, and you changed people." Tarin said, much more calm and collected than he had been a little while before.

"Lenna's got her own ideas about things, and you might not have intended for her to have permanent leadership, but she does."

A frown crossed the medium's face, and he shook his head, "And I've got Lee...and the baby. I can't walk away from the job Slate. You get that, right?" Why he cared, Tarin didn't know, but the question had already been asked.

>> "But like you just said...we did so much good.... You did change the world though, and you changed people."

More students were pilling into the small cafe; there was a chattering line at the counter, and the seats around them were filling up.

Slate met his former employee's gaze. "I am aware of that. What I am not entirely clear on is the long-term efficacy of my actions."

I went back in time, Tarin. With Katrina. We were trapped there for a year. I... did not expect to see any of you again.

"It is not that I am giving up my goals: it is simply that I feel it is time for me to learn more, before attempting to influence global affairs again. There are important things in this city, too. You have Lee and your child. I have Katrina."

We are going to be married.

"I encourage you to do what you think you must," the young Italian stated. That was what the Kabal had always been about.

Long term efficacy. That was always going to be a problem, wasn't it? It had niggled at the back of Tarin's mind since they'd all been briefed on exactly how Slate was handling the controlling interests in the countries the Kabal moved in to "stabilize." Eventually the people in control would be replaced by new people in control and the possibility of the same problems springing up in a wholly corrupt government would be a never ending cycle.
Tarin sighed and leaned back in his chair.

Why had he needed permission? Tarin didn't know and shook his head slowly at his former employer. The whole situation was still kind of surreal, and the fact that he was now working with Lenna still threw the Medium for a bit of a loop.

Yes. He had Lee, and he had Kevin. And Slate had..Katrina? "It's always been about them...and making the world better."

As for Katrina, Tarin didn't know the girl, but apparently she was worth giving up the world for.

"Well. It was fun while it lasted, I guess..." Tarin said with a slight frown and an offered hand.

"I hope if I see you on the flip side, we're on the same side of the street."