The dream had felt so real that she didn't exactly trust everything the next morning.

She had glared at Jorge, wondering if he'd really do something like that. If it's really as normal as Amery claims it is.

Now she's still glaring at him, and it's almost bedtime.

It'll always remain the same cycle, over and over and over.

"Siren." He puts both his paper and glass of alcohol down. "Bother explaining what I did wrong?"

"I'd have a whole list to go through," she says coolly.

"Siren—"

"Will you stop saying my name with every sentence?"

"I recall you are the one who refused to listen to the exact same order, except it was 'sir'."

"Well, I've stopped now, haven't I?"

"Yeah, you have." He picks his glass back up, throwing the remaining liquid down his throat. "I'm glad that phase is over."

"Yeah, I realized you're not really a gentleman."

"Ah, I thought you realized I turned into your father figure."

She bites her lip in anger. He manages to shoot back the worst comebacks at her. The ones she doesn't want to hear. She'd rather have him humiliate her than bring up the past or changes.

"You could never be even remotely close to the title father," she spits out. "How many times—"

"—do I have to tell you that I've changed and that I am open to any of your problems as long as you don't yell them?" He cuts her off. "Tell me what is wrong. Don't start fighting me again, Siren."

"And how will you fix my problems?"

"That depends on the problem."

"The problem is you! You're the one who brought me to the most messed up place, you're the one who forced me into that room, you're the one who gave me this awful life, you're the one whose fault it is!"

She wonders if she'd be happy without Amery in her life. Brenda seems to be fine with the way she lives.

But it's so... boring. There is nothing but stimulations. It's been months— years, perhaps, since they went outside. They're too 'young' for that.

"Well, if you're that unhappy, go ahead and run off. I'm not disciplining you again, after attempting to for ten months."

Ten months.

"I hate you," she reminds him. "But no, I will not run off. I am what you need to overthrow WCKD, and—"

"Brenda is still there."

"Yet I am more skilled than Brenda at the moment. I have the chip, she doesn't. I have been training for this for years."

And she has gotten a greater plan in the mean time.

"So," she says, "when do you want to act out on this plan before I run off?"

He stares at her for a long time. "Don't run off. Please."

"When?" She repeats.

"Whenever you're ready," he eventually sighs out. "Everything is planned and done."

"Okay. Tomorrow night, then."

Jorge stares at her again, slowly opening his arms. "Please?"

"A handshake is more proper for coworkers, isn't it? Does the same job."

She feels the warmth of his big hands against hers a second later. For a second, at the touch, a lump forms in her throat, and she rethinks her plan.

Then she shakes it off. Just because he's nice now, does not mean he will always be nice.

Amery has taught her that just fine.