Sao awoke, as he often did, to a door flung open.

He stretched his arms and felt the contents of a dream slipping away, fading like stars at dawn, submerged in daylight. Judging by the racket, the door had been kicked open by someone with hands full and slammed shut again. The thud still echoed, and it had probably left a crack where the doorknob hit the wall, but Sao found himself inextricably content. He tilted his head back on his chair. Sunlight was flowing gently through the windows and the office was aglow, the wood dusted gold, the air just thick enough to be cozy. At late noon, the place was a dream unto itself. Daytime naps were irresistible.

The ray of light that fell right over his chair was like the touch of the sandman himself. Sao’s eyelids drooped. Spooked awake and drifting off less than a moment later - all in the middle of the work day. He smiled to himself. Was this really what he’d become?

The truth was that he had gotten used to the noise. Silence had little place when one worked with Rai. From the bleary croak of his long-suffering sedan, to the chug of the printer, to that distinctive habit of straightening papers by cracking the edge of a brick-like stack against the edge of his desk - it was hard to regard a door as anything special. Sao yawned again. And Rai was not entirely to blame for this sanding-down of nerves: Sao had gotten used to doors kicked open  - even snapped off hinges, beaten down, torn through - long before his time began in Rai’s office.

Back when it had meant something more. He had never exactly been in a situation where he’d run happily to greet the arrival, calling out hello, hands out to mommy and daddy… but at one time, things had been far worse than any nightmare, any noise. After leaving that behind, Sao was quite sure he could live through - even sleep through - anything.

Was he really so far gone?

Sao sat up, rubbed his eyes, and tried to align himself practically. Rai could be a perplexing in his moods, had a prickly sort of temper, but he was no nightmare. In fact, Rai’s habit of taking down his own door like a cannonball was more convenient than not - the crunch of wood and drywall was a timely alert that the supervisor was returning from a paper dropoff or lunch run. A wake-up call for the napping assistant. It helped avoid strange looks and hasty explanations. A noise to ensure later peace.

Harmonious, sometimes, how things worked out.

Following the sound of shoes being kicked off in the entryway, Rai flung himself into the office, hauling two unmarked plastic bags. They swung enticingly, though the sloshing suggested this was not how they were intended to be handled. Sao managed to terminate a second yawn by the time Rai turned to him.

"Lunch is here. What are you looking at?" Rai frowned, circling where he stood. "Ugh, this always happens with these bowls. Where did it drip?"

"It’s not dripping." Sao stood. "I was just thinking they look like generous portions. You should have called me when you were close by, I could have helped with the pickup."

"The delivery guy was already waiting downstairs as I drove up." Rai swept the pens, printouts and sticky notes that covered his desktop off to the side, and dropped his load. The papery detritus almost immediately began to flow back, coming to press against the bulk of the leftmost bag. A burning aroma began to fill the office.

Sao leaned over one of the bags to indulge. "It smells heavenly."

"This is the joint I've been telling you about." Rai tugged aside the first bag and peeled the plastic sides down, revealing a stack of containers streaked in red slime. "Sour and spicy soup is one thing, but this place has thirty side dish options, practically all drowned in this blackened chili oil, minced garlic and ginger paste - the good stuff. You know I'm not crazy about spice, but these peppers are something else. They're potent enough to be classed a herbal medicine in some places. You won't be able to feel your face after a few bites." He paused, picking at a gloved hand. "That's not specifically why I thought you'd like it. There's the way they marinate the garlic before grating it..."

"My mouth's watering already. I'll get some utensils. Ah - watch the oil!"

Rai's eyes, rust-red and perpetually rimmed in dark circles, shot back to the table, where some dripping was, indeed, now occurring.

While Rai attended to the mess, Sao entered the tiled closet that was Rai's kitchen. He rifled through the drawers for some mismatched cutlery, then drew a pair of mugs from the sink rack. Two of Rai's three coffee makers were gurgling happily. The grind must have finished just before Rai came through the door, just in time for lunch, as Sao had hoped they would. He'd grown quite used to their rabble as well. They were certainly indispensable members of the workplace, likely even more crucial than himself.

Returning to the main office, Sao set both mugs on Rai's desk. He might have caught a smile for that; Rai's smiles were hard to discern, taking the form of slightly skewed frowns, or oddly combative smirks at best. But Rai would never take issue with an offer of coffee.

Sipping his salvation with one hand, and with the other flinging soaked napkins into the discarded plastic bag, Rai went to crash on his swivel chair. "Knock yourself out."

Rai had ordered the wood fungus side-dish and potato starch noodle. Sao had opted for sliced pork as a side, and thin noodles with kelp. All the containers were coated with oil and filled with identical red liquid. Only after pawing around with a fork and drawing up a crinkled black fragment (Rai's fungus) and some jellyfish-looking substance (Rai's noodle) did the meal start. One mug of coffee had already been drained by the time Rai lifted his spoon.

Sao inhaled the smoke teeming from his bowl. It stung, it numbed, it burned. It smelled delicious, almost too good to be fiddled with by a couple of worn chopsticks. He wondered if the old wooden sticks would dissolve in the mixture, the smell was so strong.

"So, how was your nap?"

Rai certainly had a sense of timing. Sao coughed, his throat blistering.

"Not better than this, I'll assure you."

"Glad to hear it." Now there was one of his undeniable smirks. "Next time you should try the fungus."

Feeling a knot unwravel in his chest, Sao laughed. They ate. 

Blowing on the cauldron of red that was his bowl, Sao thought, the way Rai is, he must have learned long ago how to stave off silence. Found a reason to. It seemed absurd that it had taken Sao until adulthood to appreciate the same, but then, he had started off somewhat sheltered. A pristine white schoolhouse in a flowering field, children arranged in neat rows by tight-lipped tutors in black dresses. When everything was managed for him - corralled, controlled, curated - it was hard to believe in the ‘outside’. It was hard to believe uncontrolled voids could exist that would not be filled automatically, for him. He couldn’t have imagined the blights to be covered by nervous talk and desperation, the cracks to fill with regret for what wasn't said, the sheen of shame for what had been blurted...

Well, he wouldn't have said Rai was without regrets. Rai was only able to repress it in a way that steamrolled the traps of courtesy, and even common sense - when it mattered. Rai wasn't blind to the world; he couldn't have become an investigator like that. His scowling bluster was simply a construct that helped him navigate past the trivial; pitfalls like polite door-opening and small talk when there was work to be done. He went a little too far sometimes, but that was in Sao's estimation: the estimation of a person who slept through half the workday, for what value that was. Still, feeding into the idea that it was all intentional, Rai stopped short of incidents that would get him thrown off the job, in lockup, or into a fistfight. Most of the time. 

Rai was, after all, still wearing gloves into the springtime. That was a courtesy made for Sao, whose records listed a phobia of touch. Rai never complained about having to wear gloves (indeed, Sao tried to make it clear they were not required; it was touch, not the sight of hands that he was averse to) nor had Rai so much as prodded for further information (aside from one rough instance, long behind them). A self-made detective of the abrasive persuasion, it must have crushed Rai to hold back questions, but he did for the sake of peace of the office. Rai had as much self-control, or even more, than the starchy matrons of Wishfort Mansion School. Sao had to smile at that.

At that moment, Rai was ladling peanuts out of his soup with his usual laser-eyed intensity.

Admirable as he was, it wouldn’t have been fit to throw fabulist compliments at Rai. They’d bounce right off his facade; Rai would probably make some excuse and head out for coffee, a material comfort - something of worth. Rai wasn't preoccupied with the theoretical, the spacey and self-reflective - and Sao did not blame him. With shapeshifters and their ilk running free in Central, snapping up humans to replace with their own, predators of human nightmares come to life, Rai had meatier matters on his plate to consider (and when he was feeling fanciful, there were the ghost-hunting tabloids he was so fond of). No, the greatest compliment was to let him be. And respect worked just fine without words, in Sao’s experience. Rai's stares hadn't been quite so caustic as they had been, his frowns less carelessly directed. With this, Sao lowered his shame thresholds, just slightly, as well.

Without shame, he could nap in peace and joke about it. He could also tackle the business of the hour without hesitation and distraction. Sao looked down at himself. He'd barely disturbed his chili-drowned pork and there was already a red stain on his shirt. What would the headmistress have thought of him now? Her taut words took form in his ears all too easily. No, it was better not to think of what she’d say.

Although, a sermon from his childhood tutors was always going to be more preferable than the memory of what came after. Sao picked up his napkin and started wiping. The stain widened. He sighed.

Hollow out. Close your ears. Hear nothing.

But then, silence bullied one's thoughts into filling the void.

"What are you looking at?" Rai asked again. Without dripping bowls to attend to, this time the question was pure filler.

Sao set down the napkin and fished up a sheet of sliced pork, sheer as silk. "Pondering what side dish I'll be trying next time."

"I tell you, this fungus stuff is king." Rai waved a finger. Ungloved, his hands glowed a bioluminescent blue - a peculiar testament to his nonhuman heritage. While (supposedly) harmless, it made them both all the more vigilant of Sao’s touch aversion.

"Hm, I'm thinking of the cucumber."

"Cucumbers? Save the oil and you can make that at home." Rai tapped his finger against the desk, veins flashing with each beat. "I know - the thousand year egg, that's also good."

"Aren't those the blobs with green and black skin? A bit wizened? Nothing against them - but that seems totally outside your usual palate. And you're recommending them - it's like I don't know you at all." 

"Or they're really good."

Sao sighed, his throat raw. "Got me there."

They slurped, not quite in silence, but a satisfying level of quiet. Until Rai began typing with one free hand, the other still picking away at his jellied noodles. Every so often he'd stop to crunch on bits of his fungus. Then the printer whirred to life, and Rai began demolishing his second cup of coffee which had sat miraculously untouched until then. The printer whined and Rai padded over to curse out a paper jam. He returned to his seat, sighing heavily, then froze, chopsticks aloft. His eyes shifted to Sao.

"Did you hear that?"

Sao blinked. He wasn't hearing much of note. He wasn't feeling much either: the promised numbness had consumed his tongue and was in the process of making off with the rest of his face. He said as much.

Rai did not laugh. His perpetual frown had in fact dropped in the confusion. The first sign something was off. He turned and stood.

There was a knock on the door.

---

“Hello?”

The door was open, but the visitor was being kept at bay. Rai was in the foyer having a faceoff. He stood a good three meters from the entrance, but Sao knew from experience, the force of his glare could travel.

The visitor’s voice was faint and soft as cotton. “Is this the Central PD office where I can find a man called Sao?”

“What’s your business?”

Sao emerged in the hall. “Delta - thought I recognized that voice. So it is you! Good lord, to see you here… to what do we owe the honor?”

Rai gave him a look that could cut stone. Sao only smiled back, and extended that smile to the man in the doorway, a rail of a figure encased in gray wool, his smoothed square of hair framing a face just as muted as his garments. Though ashen, his complexion was not fully pale but instead resembled a strange, colorless tan. In the poor lighting under the doorway his features were absorbed by the shadows - save for a pair of deep, almost oceanic green eyes. 

“I ran into some old friends in the city, they said you were working out of an investigator’s office now,” Delta said. “It’s a nice place, this part of town.” He gave a tiny bow. “You seem busy. I’ll come back some other time.”

“Nonsense, it’s lunch hour. Let me grab my wallet and we can get a coffee downstairs.”

“No, no. I’ll come back later. I’d like to speak in private, if possible.”

The light in the eyes was fast sinking back into grey blankness. Sao hesitated, for a moment. “How have things been with the Group?”

“Everyone’s doing well. We’re opening a third wing this summer. Oh, and there’s a new fountain, a new cafeteria, a new baby, and another on the way. A baby, I mean. It’s just… look, maybe this was a bad idea. I’ll be back-”

Rai sighed. “If you’re planning to keep coming back until you’re admitted, you might as well come in now. This place isn’t really prepped for guests, though. Try to ignore the mess.”

On this particular day, that was no small proposal. The air had grown positively crimson, acidic with chili and garlic. Delta’s foot nearly went skidding on a plastic bag full of oily napkins as he entered. The bag had fallen off Rai’s desk and lay across the threshold like a dead bird. Picking it up, Sao was now painfully aware of the stain on his chest, which had somehow blossomed into the size of a rose. He tried to keep it hidden as he wedged open a window.

Rai stood behind his desk like a judge, hands ungloved, drumming his fingers.

Delta, to his credit, skirted around both desks without batting an eye at the smell nor the flashing knuckles, and let himself be directed to the small sitting area in the corner; a bench, a collapsing couch, and a tea table just high enough to take one’s knees out when standing up too quickly from either seat. After analyzing the menagerie for a moment, he set himself on the hardwood bench. 

Hands folded, grey as ash, on the most uncomfortable seat in the house, Delta looked ready to pay some great penance.

“I really am glad to see you again,” Delta murmured in Sao’s direction. “You look well.”

“You too.” True enough, Delta was unsettled but did not look any worse than he had the last time they’d met. “I’d even say you got a little more color in your cheeks.”

“Hah. So you can still recall those jokes. I miss the old office sometimes.”

“Me too.” Sao turned to Rai. “Delta and I used to work out of the same office at HQ Records Department. He resigned a couple of years ago, but he was one of the supervisors there when I started out, managed some of our training. Vampire of the third floor, they used to call him. It started when one of the cleaners spotted him sitting in the record room alone one night, past midnight with all the lights off, just staring into space...”

“Staring at a computer. I was trying to finish some transcripts by the next morning. I completed the task, but I was in no state to present it.” Delta wiped his eyes in memory of the feat, or perhaps the soupy air was finally seeping into his system.

“And it happened again, and again. I kept thinking, they wouldn’t be constantly placing him under crunch if he were really a bloodthirsty devil. I don’t blame you for leaving, Delta. HQ had no idea what a loss it would be. You and Rai should have a chat about those barbaric deadlines sometime. I also find him working deep into the night...”

“Never had a problem with the schedule,” Rai put in curtly. “So what’s this Group you two were talking about earlier?”

“Oh, come on, Rai. It’s just what we call his neighborhood...”

“No,” Delta said. “The Group is part of the reason I’m here.” His voice, though still without edge, had hardened. “I’ve heard of you, Rai. You’re the half-Life Fountain, an investigator - a good one, from what I’ve read.” 

Rai’s raised brow indicated he never heard such things from HQ.

“I’m glad you’re both here, actually - I’d appreciate professional help on the matter.”

“Well, I’m flattered, but this is just an affiliate office of the Records department. If you have an incident to report, you’re going to have to take your ‘matter’ to an actual police station.”

“I’m only here to talk. And as a Level 3 Investigator, you have authorization to create reports directly as well as access the archives. If you uncover something incriminating, well, this will have been as good as a visit to a station. Possibly more efficient.”

Rai’s lip curled - resisting a smile or tensed to leap at Delta’s throat, Sao could not be sure. “Right. You were part of the police, of course you’d know all that.”

“I have nothing but respect for you, your work, as well as the force. If I knew for sure something was amiss, I’d put all efforts into getting the authorities notified. But I’m not sure of anything here  - that’s why I’d like your input.”

“Because I can’t make arrests.”

Green eyes lowered. “There is a certain sense of security. As well as the presence of a friend. Please.”

Rai was quiet for a moment, and under that gorgon gaze, Delta was as well. The effort of his proposal seemed to have left him short of breath. Finally, Rai unfolded his arms.

“Sao, get over here. I want a note of anything that comes out of this guy’s mouth.”

Sao laughed, and though the numbness had faded from his mouth, the motions did not come easy. “This is a consultation, not an interrogation...”

“Forgive me for being a little cautious when it comes to a member of the Bell Hospitality Group.”

---

“I should have expected that you’d heard of the Group before.” Delta set aside his coat, revealing a charcoal sweater. “That must mean you know of our shaky past relation with the city police.”

Rai nodded. “The kidnapping charge. A woman from out of town who reported her sister going to stay at Bell Hospitality Lodge in the city, and fell out of contact? Suspected that she was being held against her will. The lady in question was an indie singer. Or was it an actress? Someone in show biz, so naturally the press went haywire with the story. If I recall, nothing came out of it other than a dumpster fire of internal work because someone gave the OK to raid the compound unwarranted. And they just found the sister safe and sound - but mad as hell that cops were ruining her sabbatical.” He waved a glowing hand. “I learned about the case as part of the paperwork mop-up crew. Audits and stuff.”

“It was two years ago - an unfortunate situation. I had already left the records team by then, I was having dinner at Bell with the woman, and the other residents, when the police raided. It happened to be a time when Sigma was out, too. He would have been able to...” Delta sighed. “What’s done is done, at least nobody was harmed. Ms. Indigo is still with us, she’s become a full-time resident. And we now encourage the members to phone home often to prevent similar misunderstandings.”

“I think I met her at the dinner,” Sao said. “She was talking about her latest project...”

He could have bit his tongue right out when he caught Rai’s stare. Later, please, he begged.

“Yes, that’s right - the farewell dinner, the night I left the force. That was a year before the raid - so you must have met her shortly after she first joined us, as a temporary guest. She’s a permanent resident now, and married to another resident. I wish you could have been at the wedding, it was beautiful. Ah, right, she’s now a mother. To think there’s a child now, born into Bell - which makes it all the more concerning that--” Delta laced his fingers, unlaced them and shook his head, detangling himself from memory. “The incident on the grounds, two weeks ago - did you hear of it?”

Rai slid behind his desk. “If it got reported, I will in a minute.”

“It was, though efforts were made to keep our name out of the media. In short, there was a body - a death. A retired military captain named Racer. He’d finished some service overseas and was an older man, in his 60s. He joined just a few months back.” Delta winced with each key Rai clubbed as he typed. “Racer was shot. A small group of our residents found him lying on a path on their way back to their rooms, after dinner. He was already dead. Bullet wound to the head.”

Sao shifted forward. The couch springs squeaked in protest. “That’s awful. Are you alright? How is everyone holding up?”

“They’re doing as well as they can, quite well by appearances. But I feel a good number of them are still shaken. After all, when a friend takes his own life...”

“I’m sorry.”

“The bullet came from Racer’s own gun, which was found near the body. Military model, maybe a memento of his old job. Detectives suspect the deed was done by an outsider,” Rai read.

He scanned over the same page with a frown. Then he leaned forward, a hand under his chin, and scoured it a third time, slowly. Delta folded his hands on his lap and waited, perhaps glad for the lapse of conversation, but Sao considered ribbing Rai to find out what the trouble was. On most days, Rai was notoriously quick to read and summarize.

The recital resumed after Rai had passed over whatever oddity held him up. “Although blood and fingerprints indicate that Racer had been holding it, the firearm was found on a nearby bench, two meters away from the body. It was a stormy evening, and detectives found unfamiliar footprints in the wet mud. A mens’ sneaker: unexpected footwear as the residents wear assigned loafers when roaming the grounds. The ‘floral corridor’, where the body was found, runs parallel against the western wall of the compound. Outside that wall is an alley without cameras, windows or occupants. Running theory is that the unknown killer hopped the fence to enter Bell grounds, and was found by the victim who was, for some reason or another, carrying his weapon. A struggle ensued and, overpowered or by accident, Mr. Racer got shot in the temple. He died instantly.”

“Hold on.” Sao looked from Rai to Delta, though neither seemed interested in meeting his baffled gaze. “It sounds quite clear he was not the one who killed himself after all. You said that he took his own life...?”

Delta was blinking rapidly. “Yes. Right. The police were somewhat brusque during the investigation, but they did suggest the possibility of an invader on their way out. But is there anymore clarity past that? A culprit, anything?”

“Nope. The case was last touched two weeks ago. So, not long after it was entered into the system. No detectives assigned since then.” Rai shrugged. “Sorry. Sounds like it’s being buried.”

“No need to apologize. The police can be… like that. It’s fine. It is. It’s a relief to know nothing is being witheld. I suppose.”

“But you were saying the Group is rumoring suicide.”

“I’ll explain what I know. Or think I know, it’s been difficult to keep my thoughts straight lately. Migraines, seasonal perhaps.” Sitting under a square of golden sunlight, Delta only looked more colorless. “It’s been more of a feeling… a whisper that’s spread throughout the residents. Over dinner tables, through windows, passed along bedsides and hallways. Somehow, the rumor of Racer’s death being a suicide has taken hold as if it were truth, though I can’t identify the source. Everyone says they heard it from another, if they remember hearing it from anybody at all...”

Rai shrugged, wheeled his chair out from behind the desk. “Shot in the head by his own gun on a stormy night, I guess it’s possible to misinterpret.”

“But the Group is aware of all the police findings. Management has put out clarification several times. I suspect...” Again, the fingers curled around each other, bending then extending, as if trying to resist shrivelling into a ball.  “At present, we have 28 residents, and while I do trust them as people, I can no longer claim to know them all closely. Recent entrants have come in with a family member or partner, and there are friendships interspersed to account for. On a practical level, someone may be covering for another who knows more. I recalled the footprints were leading from the alley toward the grounds, and there were no additional prints leading back outside.”

“So the killer may be among the residents,” Rai said.

“Or... the killer may have lingered and been seen. My rooms are near the management building and dining area - the northeast side of the grounds, nearly opposite where the body was found - so I was one of the last to arrive on the scene, the night it happened.” Delta shook his head, dislodging a strand from his otherwise ironclad block of hair. “Police were pulling up at the gates by the time I realized and made my way over. The officers in charge were being mildly disrespectful, and from the beginning, the members were not being quite as forthcoming as they could have been. However, even after the detectives left, I was unable to learn any more from the residents myself. With the subsequent rumor, I can’t help thinking that somebody knows more than they’re letting on.”

“And you don’t even secretly have some CCTV…?”

“No cameras on the grounds. In spite of this incident, I don’t think we ever will. Sigma wouldn’t approve of it. He wasn’t there at the time, unfortunately.”

“Sigma…” Rai chewed on the name a moment. “Wings of Steel’s Sigma? He’s the leader of Bell.”

“He's the Group founder and owner of Bell’s properties, yes. He and Kiria - his partner - live in the management section of Bell Lodge, but neither were present at the time Racer was found. They went out early in the afternoon and got caught in traffic and the rainstorm. When they arrived, it was late. The investigation was wrapping up. They were upset, of course. Sigma was torn up; he reached out to the family, paid for Racer’s funeral himself. All expenses for venue, supplies, travel for attendees… but he hasn’t made a lifeline donation in a long time. I can’t help but wonder if that’s been causing discontent among residents.”

“These ‘donations’ are the massive handouts he gives on behalf of a resident’s family once in a while, right? Like resident sweepstakes.”

“That’s the gist of it. They aren’t as extreme as the media may say, the numbers aren’t publicly released. But it’s enough to make some members very happy. Sigma tries to give it to those in need, or with family in need.”

“Hm.”

“Tell me off, if this is intrusive,” Sao added quickly, “do you sense that Sigma’s frugality could be related to the Group’s financial situation?”

“I can do more than hypothesize - I’m co-owner of all Group accounts. But there’s no issue with the funds, at least, nothing so major that donations would be unfeasible. Dues from the growing number of residents last year have put us well in the clear. But I've noted small blips here and there. No large threat, but I couldn’t understand...” Delta raised his head, his eyes alight as though the sun were shining through them, scattered by glassy facets. There had always been something unsettling about his gaze; a watery sinkhole in an otherwise perfectly composed person. Look too deep and drown. “You see,” Delta continued, “another reason I wanted to speak to you is Sigma himself. He’d normally put a stop to any rumor mongering. He’s good at that sort of thing, settling people. When he arrived on the scene of the raid two years ago, for example, he calmed everyone with just a few words. But he, as of late - it’s nothing so solid as to be called suspicious and he’s not directly supporting the theory of Racer being a suicide - but Sigma...”

“Isn’t being forthcoming,” Rai said.

“He’s been withdrawn. Racer’s death has taken a toll on everybody, but with Sigma, changes started weeks before the incident, sometime around the new year. He’s out more often, which I suspect is the source of the small charges to our accounts, though he’s provided no explanation. Sometimes Kiria is out with him, but about half the time he’s out alone and she simply comes to dinner without him. I haven’t been able to get much from her either, but Kiria and I were never all that close...”

“You’re close to Sigma?”

“Friends since high school, if I remember,” Sao said. “Sigma, Delta. You were raised in the same military foster compound, though not in the same home, was it?”

“Different times and very different foster homes. But yes, we’ve known each other since late high school, though we didn’t bond until college. I feel terrible saying so now, but I thought I would be able to recognize when something was amiss with him.” Delta had still not broken eye contact, and that peculiar spark in his gaze had deepened. “Sao. You’ve always been good at remembering things, when it comes to people.”

Sao hoped this was true, since the notes Rai had asked him to take on their conversation consisted of four scribbles.

“The last time you visited was almost three years ago, but the residents who got to meet you - they still talk about your short time with us. The ones who came from the office are some of the residents I feel closest to, for obvious reasons. But sometimes, the way they speak of you, it's as if you're more the embodiment of Bell's ethos and image than I could ever be. Newcomers always ask about you, and they always lead with the burger story. ‘You’d never believe a physique like that had such a taste for burgers-’”

“I’ve been trying to cut down,” Sao said, breaking away with a sensation not unlike cracking glass. He hurried to his desk to put the lid on his noodles. Another splatter of oil landed directly on his shirt.

“Back to the death of Mr. Racer,” Rai said, clearing his throat with a peppery cough. “Unfortunately, I think we’ve done all we can for you here. You’ve heard what the detectives managed to scrounge up. We can chase HQ for any missing info, but even then, you’ll have to wait until someone gets assigned. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone at Bell knows something, but without hearing from the people in question, I can’t really add anything to this case.”

“If it will help, you may come and speak to the residents.” Sao found that Delta had re-affixed him with a glassy stare. “I think you’d be able to get more out of them than I have.”

Sao laughed. “I doubt they’ll be happy to speak to the police again.”

“But you’re not the police. Not really. You’re practically one of us.”

Sao pushed his airways and continued to bob with laughter, but that was all it was. Air moving.

“We’ll have to check the schedule before taking on a job like that,” Rai said.

Disengaging himself from some deep dream, perhaps, where Sao broke the whole case wide open and Bell returned to harmony, Delta nodded and then ran his fingers over his eyelids. “Just let me know, if you’re interested. Guests are always welcome, so you can frame it as such when you call, just in case. Ask for me, I can find a time when you won’t be troubled. Trouble is what we’re all hoping to avoid, isn’t it…?”

“Of course,” Rai said.

“I’ll leave a number.” Delta drew out his phone, a surprisingly blocky device. Then, with unexpected agility for the grim form he’d been maintaining, he sprang to his feet. “Oh - it’s past lunch - I need to head back.” There was a crunch as his knee met the coffee table’s edge. Even Rai winced. But Delta only looked confused, and limped toward the door. “It’s been very good to see you again, Sao. I’m glad you’re doing well. This is a nice place. Rai is a good investigator, you’re in good hands.”

“Delta…”

“Sigma will be happy to hear-”

“Delta.” Sao gave Delta’s shoulder a tug. “That number?”

“Ah. How could I forget, I’m sorry-.”

“And don’t forget your coat.”

Rai allowed the exchange to happen without a word, though Sao could feel his questions stirring like clouds overhead. When Delta had more or less resumed the composure he had come in with, Sao held out a hand. Delta shook it. His palm was cold.

“Take it easy. Let’s catch up again sometime soon.”

“Yes.” Delta murmured. “Sorry for the hassle, rushing in and out. Time gets away from me, these days. I think it’s because it’s been so quiet lately on the grounds. The mind tries to fill the space itself and with overexertion and I lose all sense of time. Ridiculous, I know, it’s just the busy season...”

“Not at all. Actually funny, I was thinking the same thing this morning.”

“One minute it’s a morning you wish would end, but blink and it’s already time for dinner, another day in your life is in the past.” Delta drew his hand back. “Now that I think about it, I wonder if it’s something to do with the Bells. Poor Racer. I wish I’d gotten to know him better, it’s made me wish I’d kept in closer contact. With you, and everyone. I’m sorry to bring a death to your doorstep - to you and Rai. It was good to talk, though. Please call if you’re interested in visiting us again.”