[sylvanSpider]

[indent]Aren grew up on the bare essentials. Home was to Aren simply a space to exist in. There was no need for a home when one brother was never home and the other spent his days lost in a world of written words. Smiling was left to the happy and Aren was more than content to conserve the energy. “I don't know that there's much stuff though. It's a storage unit to the bare minimum it might take for one survive. And check it; I'm still here for better or for worse.” Aren's hands fidgeted in his lap, not used to actually having people to talk to. After his brother died, it took him three days to say even one word – the first being uttered to Celia, if only because she didn't deserve his silence.

“It sounds like Ian would have made a pretty good pre-Reckoning writer. Comics aren't the only books that exist with damn good stories, you know?” Aren found himself more and more impressed with the boy's tenacity and willingness to learn. His reading fast was actually quite impressive, and it was obvious that Aren hadn't taught him his first, and that he'd been practicing.

“And Aren Reizian,” Aren finished for the officer, “Of apartment 311. You'll find that one empty...sir.”