There was no good way to explain betrayal simply in a way that maintained good feeling, so he settled on telling his charge he was poisoned, which was also true.

     The Amtrak was steady and far less stress than driving, flying, or worse, taking the bus- and ‘Hawk was stable-enough in chelation that he could travel with prescription in pill form rather than being forced on further IV.

      He hardly recognized himself, for starters, he looked younger – the deathly pallor had left, leaving a face of temporarily offended & inflamed capillaries from a few prior purges, but otherwise, he was returned to his proper standing, right as rain.

       During that process, however, he lost a student he could not quite afford to replace.  The last time he attempted to replace that particular position, it resulted in career-level traction that took his own internal investigation and manipulations to free himself from an academic blacksite filled with distressed moggies. 

Horrid.

      …And, in the process of his own recovery, his own Right Hand ended up seeing files meant for long after the present crisis of Tenure, Torture, and Unaltered Tomcats.

     He had pictured a nice sit-down, Murshīd to Murīd, the evidence properly framed in such a method that operational stability is never compromised.

       Instead, in the crisis of sudden restructure, files ended up distributed all willy-nilly, and the end result was having to retrieve his own man from The Lismore.   Again. 

      At least it wasn’t jazz fest.

      He tried to look as little as possible like his prior cover position, so he actually wore pants & absolutely nothing that would get him confused for a wizard in pleasant company.

    … and yet,  to his own delight & immense satisfaction, his full genetic flexibility returned and he could wiggle his fluffy ears under his knit cap perfectly and still hear more clearly than he could unshifted for the first time in ages, (his tail, however, he refused to manifest in public)

      So, as a Normal Human, he wore a simple light gray Oxford sweater over his white collared shirt, charcoalish twead pants, and some basketball player trainers to fit in with all the Americans.

       [Note: Unsuccessful.  Was asked if a reviewer of resteraunts or narrator for nature documentaries.  Reminder: File future expense report for mission- necessary dungarees.]

       When he arrived at the hotel, this time, he did not bother checking in- instead, he discreetly showed his Agency credentials and asked for his own apprentice’ location, directly, listing off the current legal names he was likely utilizing.

     “Room 206,” stated concierge. “Do you require local assistance, or would you like him called first?”

       “Neither, thank you-  I will find my way.  If he does not answer, we can try calling.  He is here to rest, no doubt.  The last thing anyone wants on holiday is to hear a telephone.” and with that, he nodded politely and departed from the desk.

       Thankfully, this was already the second floor. ‘Hawk took a brief pause to sit in a lobby chair… and since his student fancies himself Hafez whom absolutely would choose a room number by Surah & Ayat, Hawk reached into his jacket pocket, & retrieve his Quran and read the following:

Surah Al Baqarah 2:06

إِنَّ ٱلَّذِينَ كَفَرُوا۟ سَوَآءٌ عَلَيْهِمْ ءَأَنذَرْتَهُمْ أَمْ لَمْ تُنذِرْهُمْ لَا يُؤْمِنُونَ ٦

As for those who persist in disbelief, it is the same whether you warn them or not—they will never believe.

Then, to 20:6

لَهُۥ مَا فِى ٱلسَّمَـٰوَٰتِ وَمَا فِى ٱلْأَرْضِ وَمَا بَيْنَهُمَا وَمَا تَحْتَ ٱلثَّرَىٰ ٦

To Him belongs whatever is in the heavens and whatever is on the earth and whatever is in between and whatever is underground.

He closed the Quran and slipped it neatly back into his pocket:

     Ah.  The student is indeed ‘big mad’, as they say, Hawk concluded

      …and now he was going to have to pray Allah  re-arrange the cosmos again to bring the young man back to the Mission. 

…Politely.