> We had another visit from our mystery hacker? Orion asks.

"You don't sound too surprised." Spiro says dryly. "Did he knock first?"

> In a way, Orion says. He sent a noticeable, identifiable probe with an encoded message directly into my firewall.

"Oh, great." Spiro mutters. "We're neighborly."

The subject of the controversy, the black haired boy, leans over the computer screen.

"This Orion?" He says.

Spiro sighs.

"Yeah," he says. "Orion, say hello."

> Hello. I am Orion, Spiro's personal assistant and only friend.

"That was unnecessary," Spiro says.

The boy shrugs.

"Well, I have no idea what he said, 'cause I can't read."

Spiro stares at him.

"You can't read?" He says.

"Nah." The other boy says. "Don't need to."

"Unbelievable." Spiro mutters. He grabs a piece of paper. "The hacker guy said your name was Ekrem, right?"

Ekrem scoffs.

"The old guy has no sense of privacy," he snorts.

Spiro rolls his eyes.

"You've known me for less than a day, and you just ate my entire fridge," he points out, uncapping a black felt-tip marker and pressing the tip against his palm to see if there's any ink left. "I don't think you get to talk about boundaries."

He writes "EKREM" in bold, thick black letters on a spare sheet of paper and holds it out to him.

"Here." Spiro says. "That's your name. Memorize it."

"Don't tell me what to do," Ekrem sneers, but he takes it anyways. He touches the thick black line of the K. Spiro raises his eyebrows at him.

"Well," Spiro says, turning back to his computer, where Orion sits, unmoving, "at least you have no idea what Orion is saying to me."

"I've got a bullshit monitor," Ekrem says distractedly, folding the piece of paper with his name on it with surprising care, creasing each fold with precision, before slipping it into the pocket of his pants. "I can tell if you're talking shit about me."

Spiro snorts.

"How's that?" He says, opening a project he's been working on on an adjacent monitor. "Magic?"

"Hey, don't knock it," Ekrem shrugs.

Spiro remembers the bizarre disappearing act the other boy had pulled earlier in the day.

"Right, I was going to ask," he says, looking over his shoulder, where Ekrem has apparently found the blanket that he sleeps on and is making himself comfortable. "How did you do that vanishing thing earlier?"

"That?" Ekrem says, stifling a yawn. "Don't have to tell you."

"Christ," Spiro mutters. "You have the worst attitude out of anyone I've ever met."

"Living in this neighborhood, I doubt that." Ekrem closes his eyes. "Shut up. I'm gonna sleep."

Spiro stares at him.

"Firstly, it's, like, six in the afternoon," he says. "The sun is still up. Secondly, how do you know I'm not going to kill you in your sleep, or something?"

Ekrem shrugs without opening his eyes. His scars are covered by the blanket he's tucked his entire body under.

"The old man may be a scumbag, but he's never sent me somewhere where I'd get killed," he says.

Spiro watches his face.

"Right." He mutters.

Ekrem is asleep within seconds. His features are softer when he's not awake and scowling. His black hair falls softly over his forehead.

Spiro exhales.

"Shit," he says. "Where am I going to sleep?"