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Mario was a rational man. He didn’t let emotions interfere with business. So when Keter asked him to give up his seat, he yielded without protest.
“There won’t be a second time.”
But he didn’t forget to leave a warning that such a whim would not be tolerated again. Mario was a seven-star Prime, a man whose time was worth gold. He was not someone who could afford to waste a trip on trivial whims.
Keter, unconcerned, sat back down and turned to Hans.
“If life were expressed in floors, you see...”
Keter gave no context, yet Hans listened quietly.
“...Some are born in the basement, others start already on the fifth floor. I was born in the basement, the very bottom. Maybe that’s why...” Keter pointed a finger at Hans. “When I see people like you, my fist itches before anything else.”
“...What?”
“People born on the fifth floor who convince themselves they climbed there on their own.”
“...!”
“People born strong insist they were born in the basement just because they're dissatisfied with a few things.”
“You speak as though you know everything about me.”
“People like you always have one...
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