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“You can explain while we walk,” said Bran, and his voice was light again, almost pleasant. Ironically it just accentuated the anger she could feel simmering beneath those words.

She sighed. “I guess you wouldn’t believe me if I said the money was good,” she tried.

“No, I wouldn’t,” he replied airily. He didn’t elaborate; Lyra knew it was a weak lie even before she had said it. The President wasn’t made of infinite money, but she had more than enough to supply Lyra’s personal needs. And Lyra had never been a big spender, even if she did make a lot of purchases that Bran would have found frivolous and unnecessary.

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Posts for week 3's period start here, though I didn't manage IC to get to the prompt area in time. They would've gone through the Blurred Lines prompt, if this is still being counted P:

She considered other, more convincing lies. A lead on her brother, maybe, or the bluff that she had just felt like it. Hey, Bastien and Luke had found her in a sewer when they first met, right? Maybe she did come back for the nostalgia factor. But between their long acquaintance and the fact that it was part of Bran’s job to catch out liars, she knew it wouldn’t work. And he wasn’t going to be any happier with her for trying.

Sighing, she said, “Someone called in a favor I owed.” She half hoped this would be enough, but Bran merely waited, saying nothing.

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The air of expectation hung heavy between them, punctuated by the sounds of their footfalls. “You sweat perps like this?” she asked, glancing at them.

“Don’t change the subject,” he said, relentlessly pleasant. Lyra winced.

“Alright, alright. I, um, didn’t tell you what happened after the Richardsons, did I?” That had been about when they’d fallen out of touch. She couldn’t remember on whose end the connection lapsed first, and in her defense he hadn’t told her about what had happened to him in the intervening time either. The only clues she had were from observing the person he was now--- and on occasion, some loose fact that Akira let slip about what had transpired between them. It painted a grim enough picture that she didn’t ask.

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Bran said nothing; she wondered if he had traced similar thoughts in his head. She hoped not, since she privately thought she came off the better compared to him, but maybe that wasn’t how he saw it. “The… it got worse,” she said. “My, um, ‘imaginary friends’. There were more of them, and then some weren’t so friendly. I… left.”

“You left,” Bran said. “And got mixed up with a crime cartel?”

“Not exactly. I honestly just wanted to get away from people. I… thought I was having some kind of psychotic break.” She hadn’t wanted to hurt anyone when she finally snapped, and at the time it had really felt as if that day was coming.

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She hadn’t known about Mals and pacts and spirits back then, and there had already been a few weird episodes scattered through her life. In retrospect they had probably been Jericho’s doing, but she had no way of telling back then.

Bran had fallen silent again. Lyra went on. “I started to run into problems pretty quick. You can probably imagine. ‘Teenage girl’ and ‘homeless’ don’t exactly mix well, and I didn’t do enough girl scouts to make it in the woods.” She grinned, reflexively, to soften the blow of the memory. She thought about it as little as she could get away with.

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He didn’t say any of the things she might have expected to hear. There were no apologies or words of comfort; but he didn’t interrogate her about why she had come alone either. He of all people understood why she might not have wanted an audience to this, why she felt more comfortable sneaking off alone.

She didn’t know if he was satisfied, but Bran stopped asking questions. They walked in silence for a time; after that, Lyra couldn’t quite bring herself to keep up her usual level of chatter. It was only when Hazel’s voice broke through again that Akira caught up to them, having stayed back until now, probably to give Bran and Lyra some privacy.

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”There’s some kind of crowd coming up ahead,” Hazel said. ”I don’t think they’re dangerous, but be careful.”

“Roger,” Lyra said, firing off a jaunty salute. She didn’t know if Hazel could see it from where she was, but the gesture made Lyra feel a little more like herself again. Akira gave her a small smile, and she grinned back. Beside them, Bran took off his gas mask with methodical movements, smoothing down the mess it made of his hair as he pulled it clear of his head.

“Let’s go,” said Bran, looking at neither of them, and stepping forward to take the lead.

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The space they emerged into might have been something out of a fairy tale: buildings and lights and stalls made of oversized fungus, the caps big enough--- and tough enough, apparently--- to hold weight. But the atmosphere was less that of a magical haunt, and more something that Lyra was unhappily familiar with: a seedy black market, operating out of sight of disapproving authorities. You couldn't get any more out of sight than an underground cavern accessible through the sewers, she supposed.

Bran walked through the market--- as that was what this place turned out to be--- as if he owned the place and was daring anyone to tell him differently.

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Gone was the polite, smooth facade he wore when dealing with people in the light of day--- no, thought Lyra, looking at him again. It wasn't gone, just shifted gears. Even when he was smiling, there had always been something shrewd and sharp about him. If she was being ungenerous, she might have called it cold.

Hawkers and barkers called out to them as they made their way through, but possibly thanks to the aura that Bran projected, none of them got too close or aggressive. Lyra kept a wary eye about them, though she had to be subtle about it.

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Looking too cagey invited its own kind of trouble in a place like this, where the less scrupulous types were always looking for an easy target.

She'd been to worse, though the presence of some of the less human-looking hawkers was definitely a novelty. Here and there she saw some reptilian creatures standing on their hind legs, though these seemed more absorbed in whatever deals they were making than in harassing the three of them. If anything, she was more worried about Akira; he was doing an admirable job of hiding it, but she could tell that he was out of his depth, and trying his best not to stand out.

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"What are we looking for?" he whispered, leaning over slightly so that only Lyra could hear.

"Some kind of metal door," Lyra replied.

"In three hundred meters, make a right," said Hazel, a near perfect imitation of a robotic GPS. "Whoa, is that an alligator hide?"

Lyra wondered if that last bit had been meant for just Akira. Hazel was still tense and awkward around the rest of them, and Lyra couldn't imagine that she'd want to chat with Bran that way. But if Bran heard it, he ignored it, and Lyra allowed herself only a small smile before walking on.