No, not dust. Particles. Molecules. Atoms. The very essence of the building, the car, and the ground dissipated into nothing. Vertigo began to overtake Pre but then the world reformed.

Every mote shimmered in the air in front of her, gathering into new shapes and structures. It all moved with perfect fluidity, flowing from one scene to the next. One second she was standing in front of a building. Then, nothing. Now, they were all inside a plain room. Faded olive walls. Thick plastic furniture. A windowless cage in a bureaucratic building.

"Welcome to Connext," Mirome said. He carefully tucked his hand back into his pocket, as if sheathing a weapon.

"That was a lot of razzle-dazzle just to bring me to this dump," Pre said but her bravado didn't make it through. She half-collapsed into a chair, hoping she looked angry instead of weak.

"Well of course security is of the utmost importance to Connext," Mirome said. "This is only one room in the entire complex. But thanks to our benefits," he waggled a non-glowing finger at her, "we can ensure that guests like you only access the areas they need to."

Pre wrinkled her nose. "And this is the area I need to be in? Hex it stinks like… paper or something in here."

"Don't worry, Miss Devisana you won’t be here long. We will be back to get you afterward."

"Wait- after what?" Pre asked, but Mirome and Axial were already fading into dust before her.

"Ack!" she yelped. The last traces of them swirled away, no doubt reforming into people at some other mysterious location.

"I'm never going to get used to that," Pre muttered.

"Yeah it takes getting used to," a nearby voice answered.

Pre looked around and spotted another person forming in the corner. Their eyes came first, haunted and superior. Then the cheeks, then the lips, then the raven dark hair. It was them. Vian.

"Oh," Pre said, choking on the word. "Ahem- hey."

"Hey," Vian said as the rest of their face, then body formed.

The sight of them erased any fatigue or annoyance in Pre's mind. Oh, my gods, she remembered with crashing clarity, I'm ranked with Vian.

If they were at all affected by her or their perfect rating, they didn't show it. The metal legs of the chair screeched as Vian pulled it over. When they sat in it, it looked like a throne.

“Pre, right?”

“Yup. Yeah. Preah, actually. Or you can call me Pre. Whatever.” Nice one, Pre.

“Pre Whatever,” Vian repeated with a grin, “I like it.” They closed their eyes and leaned back in the chair. “Wake me up when the guy gets here.”

“What? What guy?”

“Metaphorical guy, that is. The person. Wake me up when the person gets here.”

“Oh. Um. Ok?”

Pre was dying to ask them more questions but she didn’t want to be annoying. Thirty seconds later, Vian was fully asleep. They were close enough that Pre could hear their steady, even breathing.

At first, she avoided looking at them. She didn’t want to be caught staring. But her eyes kept drifting back, soaking them in.

When they were awake, Vian seemed so sharp, so shiny. But in sleep, they softened. Their lips hung slightly open. Some hair flopped over their eyes. How had they fallen asleep so quickly? Pre would never have been able to sleep sitting up, in a fully lit room, and with a stranger no less.

But Vian slept. Deeply, carelessly, magnificently.

Pre pretended not to watch them until finally, ten minutes later, there was a light knock at the door.

The sound hadn’t woken Vian at all. How was Pre supposed to wake them up? An image flashed through her mind of storybook princes kissing their fair maidens awake.

Ew, no. Those guys were creeps.

“Ahem,” Pre said, clearing her throat. “Vian? I think the… guy? Is here? You awake?” When they didn’t respond, Pre tapped their hand.

Their eyes shot open, piercing Pre with their blue depths. Then, recognizing her, they smiled. “Yeah, come in,” they called to the guy outside. Looking back at Pre, they gave a big, lazy stretch, hiking up their shirt and emphasizing their long legs.

Pre continued pretending not to stare.

The "guy" who entered the room turned out to be a tired-looking petite person dressed in a polo shirt and khakis. There was a somewhat disorderly look to them as if they had just gotten out of bed for this.

“Hi I’m Windfall, he/him,” he rattled off in a monotone voice. “I will be officiating your ranking ceremony.”