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Coming back to the pod room reminded Jordan of prodding at a sore tooth, an action repeated almost compulsively, just to see if it still hurt this time, the way it always did, the way you knew it was going to. He might run into someone. He might not run into someone. He didn't know what was worse.

He wouldn't stay long, he told himself. Just ... look in and leave again. It wasn't like it did any good. Ferros stirred in his mind, concerned and resigned all at once; they shared a tired, weary ache that was not quite loneliness.

Jordan rounded the corner of the row of pods that contained both Rep and Shiloh and made it partway down the row before registering that someone else was there. He stopped, hesitating on the edge of turning around and leaving again. The last time they'd spoken, he and Melvin hadn't parted on good terms.

Weirdly, the uncertain look reassured Jordan. Melvin didn't seem to be feeling hostile, at least. He'd been here to clean the glass of Rep's pod, it looked like, and considering Melvin's fussy, obsessive cleanliness, that could be taken as a friendly gesture. "It's okay," Jordan decided, and moved closer, slowly, looking at the pod rather than directly at Melvin.

He didn't feel like fighting. His nerves had been ground raw and stretched too thin by the past week. If it turned out that Melvin felt like arguing after all, he'd just leave; as it was, though, he found the idea of non-aggressive company more appealing than he'd expected.

That was what came of letting people get close, he reflected. You started needing them.

The weird, awkward vulnerability that accompanied the act of visiting a hospital room hung in the air here, too. "Thanks," Jordan said, still not quite looking at Melvin. "The glass was getting kind of smudged." He'd never seen so many people visiting a pod. The incident had been too public, high-profile, unnecessary and polarizing, and the placement of the pods made sure that anyone who wanted to visit or just to gawk came to this row. You would probably be seen picking sides.

Jordan hated it.

The apology surprised him, and a moment of startlement made it into the glance he shot at Melvin. He hadn't really been thinking about the party. Privately, he thought he'd come out the better from that confrontation anyway, awkward and embarrassing as it had been; Melvin had made him admit things in front of a room of people, but Melvin had also made himself look petty and mean in the process. It evened out, or close enough. Jordan took a moment to consider the statement, then nodded. "I'm not mad anymore," he said, and shrugged one shoulder. "Seems like I make friends with assholes on a regular basis anyway."

"Sometimes." It was neither an agreement or a disagreement, a statement specifically aimed at nobody. Jordan reached out to touch the pod, remembered at the last moment that Melvin had just been talking about cleaning the smudges, put it in his pocket. He looked into Rep's eyes instead, studying the frozen look of distress there again. I miss you. Maybe I shouldn't, but I do, and that won't change.

"Truth is a strange thing," he said thoughtfully. "It can change, depending on who you talk to." It all depended on who you asked and what questions you used, he reflected. It was easy to see what you wanted to see. Or what someone else wanted you to see.

He looked back to Melvin at the question. "Nothing new." He exhaled a breath that was almost a sigh. "I wasn't there either and nobody's really eager to tell me much. It's just waiting now."

"They're not dead. That's about it." Jordan's gaze slid over to Shiloh's pod. He had avoided looking, but now he studied the hasty, messy bandaging job that had been done on the trainee. If he lived and rebonded, he'd heal. For all that Hunters had a greatly shortened life expectancy, anything short of outright death was repairable. They weren't really human any more, not with the weapons' Fear twined symbiotically into their minds and bodies. He let that thought roll around in his head, looking at it dispassionately. It was an opinion he'd held for some time, but he'd avoided examining it too closely. Ferros stirred, sharing the direction of his thoughts, and inquired silently.

It's not a bad thing, Jordan answered. But I don't think there's a lot of people who'd be real happy to hear it.

He shook his head slightly at Melvin's statement. "Not completely surprised. H is powerful enough to do that if he wants to." The leads could maim or kill whoever they pleased. It was a balance of power and usefulness; Rep hadn't made himself indispensable, and was thus being punished for damaging resources. Jordan grimaced a little, not really happy with the coldly pragmatic direction his thoughts had veered in. He was thinking more like the Blue Bishop than he could be quite comfortable with.

I'm here, Ferros reminded him.

You're here. Jordan sent Ferros a quiet brush of gratitude for his steadying presence. To Melvin, he said, "I'm not sure any of the leads are quite sane. Functional, yes. Sane - well. I guess it depends on your definition of sanity."

"He told you that?" Jordan sounded surprised. "I'd have -- thought he'd keep that to himself. I guess he can afford to be open about it. Jesus." His thumb rubbed across the band of Ferros's ring, absently seeking the comfort that the smooth, heavy metal evoked.

After a moment he shook his head. "I don't think you're being stupid. I don't think it's possible or reasonable to expect no conflicts, that's just human nature, but the social structure is dysfunctional here." He frowned, some of the sad, quiet pain slipping out of his expression as his eyes sharpened and went abstracted in thought. "The leads' behavior exacerbates it. I wonder if they encourage it deliberately. I don't think that's impossible. Some of them, anyway," he corrected himself. "I wouldn't think that Allan would encourage internal strife, but I also don't necessarily think the others listen to him."

"Allan's a genuinely good person, as far as I can tell." Jordan smiled a little. "There's a reason Suns get rabidly defensive about him. He believes in us." His eyes flicked again to Rep. Allan believed in Rep, and Jordan had no doubt that the man still did. That was how Allan worked.

"Not necessarily killing each other," he clarified. "But fighting amongst ourselves rather than establishing alliances or agreements." He frowned. "It'd probably be impossible to prove. There's more going on than we have access to, that's certain, at least."

"I don't know if getting everyone together for a big group meeting would be a good idea. In theory, yes, but in practice, there'd be all kinds of trouble. There's a lot of people who don't get along, and discussion would probably end up turning into argument rather than getting anything concrete accomplished. Maybe smaller groups," he suggested. "A few people at a time, where each person can get a chance to speak and feel like they're being heard and paid attention to. People have to feel like they matter, and that can get lost easily in a large group."

"It was a good try. Not your fault it ended badly." Jordan half-smiled. "I think part of the problem is that you get a wide mix of personalities as hunters, but we're all used to being suspicious of the world and hiding things because otherwise we got labeled crazy out there. Not a combination that's really conducive to building trust with new people."

"Some people are probably not going to be receptive no matter how it's put. Sounding out individual reactions and then trying small groups based on that might be effective. Slower, but probably more reliable." He studied Melvin thoughtfully as the blonde shifted the subject. "Once he's decided he likes you, he's going to keep you," he said, looking back to the pod as well. His voice held a complicated blend of emotions, affection and pride mixed equally with annoyance and resignation.

His eyes lingered on Rep's face for a few moments before he sighed almost inaudibly and turned away again. "I guess I wasn't much help either."