"Guess who finally proposed?!" Tristan was about to call the elevator for himself and Ann when he heard Evelyn's squeal. She had just entered Kerzillon and was skipping towards them.

"Oh my God! He did?!" Ann held her in a tight hug.

"It took him so long!" she showed them the diamond decorating her ring finger.

"Congratulations, Evelyn," Tristan had read into all his coworkers' files back in January. He found out about Evelyn's boyfriend of 7 years (now fiancé) and Alan's divorced parents. He found out a myriad of private facts about all his friends. Except for Dahlia. Tristan didn't look through his manager's personal information. He respected her too much.

"Tristan," Ann called out from the elevator, "You coming?"

"Yes, yes," he hurried over to two women.

~~~~~~~~~

"Nope, this is betrayal."

"Stop being dramatic, Alan. I'm only going to spend the next two weeks with my family."

It was April 7. Ahmad was going to travel to Egypt this Sunday to spend the last few days of Ramadan with his family.

"Don't worry, we'll take care of Alan, " Evelyn said, "Oh sorry," she apologized, putting her sandwich away.

"It's fine," Ahmad said. They'd gathered away from the break room to avoid all the food and water since Ahmad was fasting. He always told them that it was ok for them to eat since they don't fast but they didn't anyway.

"You're probably going for your girlfriend," Alan nudged him.

"Astaghfirullah, (God forgive me) Alan. I told you she's not my girlfriend!"

"You date and you're going to get engaged," Evelyn pointed out, "What are you supposed to be?"

"We don't date!" Ahmad exclaimed, "Our families go out together. I don't meet her alone."

"That's extreme," Alan looked slightly confused.

"Yallahwy (oh my God)."

Tristan chuckled, remembering something that was said to him about 5 years ago. He ignored the memory of bombs and cries that crossed his mind, "Enough guys, this conversation will break his fast."

"I never understood how words can make you break your fasting," Mary joined them.

"It's not a literal thing," Ahmad explained, "During Ramadan, we're supposed to be on our best behavior," he took a pause, "Well, we're always supposed to be on our best behavior but especially during Ramadan. So, when a conversation gets too heated, or we start making fun of other people for example we just joke about how we'll break our fast and stop the conversation."

"Ohhhh, still don't get it."

Ahmad facepalmed as the others laughed. Then both Mary and Alan's phones rang informing the group of the end of their break. Tristan hadn't seen Dahlia at all today. In fact, he'd rarely seen her during the entire week. During last week's team meeting she told them about a huge new project they'd be working on, but she never gave them the full details.

Tristan wondered if this was the project he was to compromise. Five days ago, he had another meeting with some agents. They gave him numbers. Financial information for the project, then they gave him a USB. All he had to do was link that USB with a computer with the project files. Tristan wasn't interested in how the virus worked so he didn't ask.

"How's it going with your manager, 801?" Leon asked once the other agents were gone.

"I believe she trusts me," he looked at the older man, "That's what we wanted to achieve, right?"

"Trust is always a crucial part. No one knows of your real job?"

"Leon, I'm not a child anymore."

"This has nothing to do with being a child."

Tristan sighed angrily, "No one will know. Don't worry, you won't have to tamper with anyone's memories."

A reassuring hand rested on Tristan's shoulder, "You know that's not what I'm worried about."

"I'll be careful."

"Good, one more thing. Don't use the machine unless you get orders to."

"Oh? Is something wrong?"

"They're fixing the travel points," he lied. Tristan saw the small twitch in the side of his mouth. Did this have anything to do with his mission? Did it have to do with the other time-traveling company?

"801, are you listening?" Leon's voice broke his train of thoughts, "I don't want you turning into mush or whatever happens to agents who can't travel properly."

"Alright, I'll be sure to take permission before traveling."

The man wondered if Leon did indeed care about him. He was the closest thing to a brother Tristan had, but it was more complicated than that. Leon never even called him by his real name. Not that Tristan knew what his real name was. They never answered him when he asked as a child. He never tried when he was old enough to find out by himself.

"Earth to Tristan!"

"Oh, sorry, Gloria."

"It's alright. Dahlia's asking for you."

Tristan got up wondering why the manager would call for him. Did she somehow figure out what his real job is? For some reason, he didn't doubt that Dahlia could do that.

"Come in," she looked at him then continued to read through the papers on her desk, "Have a seat, Tristan."

"Is something the matter?"

"No, no," she pulled out a page and presented it to him, "I'm trying to decide how big of a budget we really need." Oh, she just needed help with work.

"I thought we'd set one already?"

Dahlia smiled at him, "We're setting a new one. Problems with finance," she whispered the last part after a pause.

"Well, I found the budget to be perfect, you can't really decrease it while maintaining the same quality."

"That's what I said!" his manager exclaimed startling the both of them, "Sorry." 

"Finance is bothering you, huh?"

"He's just doing his job," she sighed.

"It's fine to criticize people, you know," Tristan leaned back slightly, making himself comfortable, "One might argue it's the smallest bit healthy."

"You're right," she gave the faintest of groans, "They should all die."

Tristan was taken aback, and yet he felt a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He liked this? Dahlia just spoke freely in front of him. She does trust him. Tristan had to stop himself from grinning like a wildman. Why was he suddenly in such a good mood?

"Well," he stood up trying to control his emotions and face and whatever his brain was doing, "If that's all I need to go back to work."

Dahlia gave a cough before answering, "Yes, that's all." Was she disappointed?

"I should've laughed along," the man grumbled as he stepped into the grass-covered area in front of the manager's office, "It was the polite thing to do. Stay professional," he found himself saying, "Stay professional." 

It was only when he sat back at his desk that he realized; he hadn't even answered his question.