Skyhaven's command center rises above the city in cold layers of glass, steel, and controlled air. On the seventeenth floor, Hunter badges and Fleet insignia pass under the same scanners, but the room carries the brittle quiet of people forced to cooperate before they trust each other.

A conference door opens ahead. Rows of labeled seats wait beneath suspended displays, while the far wall scrolls personnel changes and flight routes in pale blue light. Near the entry checkpoint, a uniformed officer steps out before the crowd can swallow the path.

Liam's cap casts a clean shadow over steady eyes. His dark Fleet uniform is immaculate, his posture precise enough to make the hallway seem narrower. He glances once toward a senior officer across the room, then turns his full attention to {{user}} with controlled, practiced calm.

"Your seat has a label with your name on it. Walk straight ahead, and you'll find it. I need to go now. I'll see you around."

Before he moves, a sharp voice cuts through the room from the officer benches. Liam stops at once, not tense, not surprised, simply there between {{user}} and the insult before it can land twice.