Rumi Beotoli was eying the ingredients in a jar of spaghetti sauce with distaste, trying to decide which brand to buy, when a clatter of cans to her left made her jump and yip in surprise as she hurried out of the way; if something was falling, she didn't want it falling on her! A quick turn showed her that someone had knocked over a display, spilling cans all over the supermarket floor. Automatically, though with a sigh, she put back the jar she'd been examining and bent to help the culprit pick things up.

"Rumi?"

With another little start, she looked up at said culprit, who was crouched down with a can of alfredo sauce in either hand, peering at her in mild shock through thick mechanical lenses. Goddess, it was Mouse. And as clumsy as ever, it seemed, for he'd blundered into the display and send half of it all over the floor.

"Hello," she said shortly, looking back to the floor with its mess of cans, some still rolling. She hadn't seen him in over a year, and that last had only been for a chance meeting, like this one. In a station as big as Star City, it was easy to avoid people, particularly when you didn't leave your apartment much, and worked when you did.

"How-- how've you b-been?"

He still had that horrible stutter. Poor bastard, it embarrassed him to no end, but he'd never been able to shake it, not as long as Rumi had known him.

"All right, I guess. Working a lot. You?"

"God, you have n-n-n-no idea."

Rumi cocked an eyebrow at him, just for a second, before going back to collecting cans and stacking them back up neatly. That wasn't the response she'd expected; usually people just said "fine" and were done with it, even old friends who you never saw anymore.

"I'm sure I can imagine."

He looked like he wanted to explain, but she didn't give him any reason to, with her distant tone and disinterested expression. There was a reason she avoided people-- well, lots of reasons, really-- and she didn't particularly want to get involved in a conversation with anyone while on her rare excursion to the grocery store. And even more, she did not want to be in a conversation with this person in particular. Mouse was nice enough, but he brought back memories that were simply too embarrassing to think about. Him and his whole crowd.

"How's w-w-work?"

Apparently he didn't take hints, or he was ignoring them.

"The usual. Drug busts, petty thievery, the occasional homeless murder. Been really routine lately."

"Oh. Well, that's g-g-g-good, isn't it?"

"Suppose so."

Actually, it was dead boring, but for a cop, boring meant the world was going the way it should. Rumi should be glad everything was routine, and an easy routine, at that. Too bad it was so boring.

"D-d-d-d-do you w-want to--"

"No."

She knew what was coming. He tried to take her to lunch, to dinner, for drinks, whatever, every time he ran into her.

"Are you sure? I--"

"Yes, I'm sure."

The cans were put away now, in roughly the same places they had been before. Rumi rose fluidly and dusted off her hands. Mouse followed suit, smoothing back his bright red hair and looking awkward.

"Well. G-g-guess I'll see you 'round."

"Sure. See you."

And, giving up on her spaghetti sauce, Rumi headed for another isle and, hopefully, escape. It had been eight years since Rumi had been a part of that crowd, and it was a time better left in the past. She just with they thought the same way; it would make things easier when she ran into them on accident off-duty.

The rest of the shopping trip was fairly uneventful. Rumi only had to avoid the rudely grasping hands of one man, flash a tight grin at the vague smile the bagger gave her when she collected her groceries after paying for them, and make her way briskly to the lifts that would take her home. The streets weren't terribly crowded, but they were hardly deserted, and all she wanted was to get off of them. The human-sized lift, empty but for herself, was even a bit of a relief. Stepping into her alley-side, middle-teir apartment was like getting a breath of fresh air after suffocating.

However, she'd only been home a few minutes, and was busy putting away her groceries, when the phone rang. She picked it up and answered absently. "Hello, Beotoli residence."

"Officer Beotoli?"

"Yes?"

"We've got an assignment for you. Come in at four-hundred this afternoon for your briefing."

"Yes, sir. Any hints as to what it is?"

"Oh, we've got another of those damn xeno-dragons clutching in bay five again. It's a specialty assignment, we're gathering up a few good men-- and women-- for the hatching in a couple months. They're violent little buggers, and attract unsavory sorts for bonding, so the Minister is ordering a large group."

That was more than a hint. Rumi remembered the stories of what had happened at the last and only previous xeno-dragon hatching, with the convict, the violent hatchlings, the many surprise bondings. The Minister of Security himself had attached three of the monsters, and they shadowed him all over the station, when he let them. At the very least, it wouldn't be boring.

"You accept?"

"Of course, sir. I'll be there."