We filed into the locker rooms. My body ached in that satisfying way that meant I'd actually pushed myself, but I wasn't destroyed. Three weeks ago, a sim run like that would have put me in the medical wing.
Now? I felt great.
Jordan appeared beside me at the lockers, his expression serious for once.
"Hey."
"Hey yourself."
"I wasn't actually mad. About the training thing." He pulled off his tactical suit, revealing the lean frame underneath that never seemed to bulk up despite all of Misato's circuits. "Just surprised."
"I know."
"You're getting scary good, man. Like, actually good. Not just surviving anymore."
I shrugged. "Had to happen eventually. Can't be dead weight forever."
"Yeah, but..." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Just don't forget you started as one of us, okay? The lottery rejects. Don't become another Blair."
The comparison stung more than it should have.
"I won't."
"Promise?"
I met his eyes. "Yeah, man. I promise."
