The footsteps got louder.
Ruaan looked at Harolin with wide eyes and mouthed the words 'what do we do?' and Harolin looked at Oren already making a fast decision he had already decided he didn't like.
"I don't care if you hate this," Harolin said to Oren, already reaching for his own collar. "But you won't complain because this is your fault."
Oren frowned. "What am I supposed to—"
Harolin was already pulling his uniform shirt over his head.
Ten seconds later a senior officer rounded the corner and stopped at the sight of Harolin standing there half-dressed, hands moving to his belt, completely unbothered by the company.
They greeted each other. The senior officer's eyes moved around the space once, the automatic assessment of someone who had heard something and come to check.
"Did you hear that sound earlier?" the man asked. "Like someone—"
"That was me," Harolin said flatly. He unzipped his pants. "Zipper caught something."
