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He had heard straight from the horse's mouth what Gale did. The truth was a difficult and bitter pill for Lance to swallow to the point where he had to go digging through the archives on Deus Ex to find that particular recording from the security camera and watch it again and again. Lance knew that those in the Death division were a little... off compared to the other divisions. He couldn't blame them.

But after what Gale did? It left him breathless. If he still had legs he probably would have needed to sit down. As he was already sitting, it was all Lance could do but to look aghast as he mulled the news over and over in his mind.

The Mist assistant didn't bother knocking as he shoved the door open to the room Gale was in within the Death Offices. "You and I need to talk. Now." Lance said as he wheeled himself in, parking himself near the Death hunter.

Lance crossed his arms and stared disapprovingly at Gale. "Look at you," he began without mincing words, "You could have been something more, something greater. Instead here you sit, pushing papers. And all you had to do was one. Small. Thing."

Gale would probably be attracted to a particular red spiral on Lance's right arm, displayed for all to see out in the open. Quite possibly it looked very, very familiar.

"Ah-ah." Lance held up his hand and made a shushing motion. "I know you've been busy, but come on. Let me tell you two little words that will jog your memory."

Lance did his best to roll his chair closer, leaning across the desk as best as he could. "Miniskirt Mondays."

"Awhile ago but I haven't had a chance to talk to you because someone happened to wind up in the infirmary which is where a certain someone is also supposed to be right now." Lance leaned back in his wheelchair and gave his nephew a long look. "While some of his... so-called requests were odd, you could have at least made an attempt. Who knows? Maybe you would've ousted Mark as an assistant instead of needing to grub about like the rest of the hunters." He shrugged, then frowned. "Or, come to think of it, Caelius wouldn't have liked that you were following Mark's orders. Either way, I still think you should have done it."

Lance unfolded his arms, tapping the arm of his chair. "So, give it to me straight. Why did you decline?"

"Of course it does," Lance replied. "It's all the more reason to get out of the one in the Life Labs and get into the one run by the Moon division. It's nicer and the one in Life. Better food, better service..." He trailed off and shrugged. "It's more for long-term care though, and if you're too banged up they might try to ship you back to Life. But other then that..."

Lance trailed off, looking Rather Disappointed at Gale. "Well, if it helps it's easy enough for you and me to see eye to eye on things given the circumstances." Unless Gale was sitting on a book or two. Then Lance's point was moot.

"...I take it you're not interested in becoming an assistant?" Lance asked. "Why's that? There's better pay and benefits. Aria's practically letting me run the Mists while she goes off and does whatever the hell she does that she won't tell me about." He didn't even try to hide the resentment in his voice, or the annoyed look that crossed his face at the thought.

There was a moment of silence as Lance appraised Gale. "That's good to hear," he replied quietly. "There's a bit of safety in becoming an assistant. You don't have to deal with the garbage tasks. The only thing you need to watch out for are the tougher missions and Caelius himself."

Lance shifted his position slightly, arranging himself so that he could rest his arm on the desk. "Age means jack around here, Gale. It's all about strength and connections. Being a division lead? An assistant? It's not about being in the right place and the right time to squeeze in. You have to become stronger and learn to defend yourself."

"Hell, how do you think a majority of the Mists felt when Aria pulled me, someone who should have been written off as dead, into her division and made him assistant over the others? It wasn't pretty." He lowered his voice, his fingers shifting slightly to rub a ring on his hand: his weapon's totem. "I've had to learn how to defend myself almost immediately. Been out in a coma for three months and having pissed off women try to take you out? It's not pretty. And... sometimes you need to take them out. Permanently."

Lance leaned back, shaking his head. "If you don't think you can do that, then you'd better wait and become stronger. Between you and me, while Mark and I are buddies... sometimes I'm amazed that he's still breathing. And if Caelius is any indication? You might need to take buddy Mark out. I don't fancy you for you might having to do that."

"He'll make the short of s**t we face seem like cake in comparison," Lance suggested helpfully. It was the same sort of advice someone in the nosebleed section would shout at an athlete during a sports event.

The mist assistant nodded to Gale as he answered. "Good call. If you need more info, just let me know and I'll get you some access to the cams. Might be helpful, except most of them don't come with audio. Although..."

Lance trailed off. "Your weapon is a sniper rifle, yeah? Good for long range. I'd start training with something you can keep on you at all times for close range. Take a page from Caelius' book and look into a barrier dagger or similar, just in case. If you want to move up, you'd better be ready and keep your back to a wall."