They stole a stretcher for me, coming back only an hour or so later with it, with tiny, triumphant smiles on their faces. I half-climbed half-was-hoisted into it, pain searing through my body. It felt more muted than earlier though, all the times I had to crawl on the floor seemed so much more painful than this. Maybe it was the difference in elevation (rather, the lack of it, since the stretcher was only slightly shorter than the bed), or maybe I was just recovering. My body did feel stronger than it had on previous days, though weary and unused.

"You good?" Aaron asked, seeing my unconscious grimace.

I nodded. The stretcher felt strangely warm. At least, warmer than my bed. It hadn't had extensive contact with me yet.

Our first destination, if it could be called a destination, was the hallway. This was the apartment building where all forty-nine Inheritors lived. Fourteen rooms on each floor, and there were four floors. Which meant there were some empty rooms, which was odd for a building supposedly designed for Inheritors, who had a known and definite number. As we exited the building, stepping into the bright morning light - I somehow had forgotten morning could exist - I commented on this. "Empty rooms?"

"Hm?" Aaron quirked an eyebrow.

"If there are fourteen apartments on each floor, and there are four floors, that's fifty-six apartments. But only forty-nine Inheritors. Why are there empty rooms?" As soon as the question came out of my mouth, I had figured out the answer. Storage. They were obviously for storage. Except I was wrong.

"This was going to be a college, before the whole Inheritors' Crisis. of Twenty-eight." Aaron explained. "A local technical college, I think. The remote location was for tax reasons. But the government commandeered the land in order to house the Inheritors. The apartment building used to be dorms. That's why the rooms are so small."

I frowned. I've heard dorms were small, but I had assumed the size of the rooms had been planned, an act of foreseen antipathy.

He went on. "That's also why the architectural theme is this way. Brick walls and triangle fronts and marble columns. Supposed to look college-like." He gestured to the marble columns to the left and right of us, which held the overhang of the roof. We were on a wide porch, and had to go down a short flight of steps to get to the path below, which I dreaded. There was no ramp, of course. Legislation requiring buildings to be accessible probably hadn't been around in 1928, and there was no way the government was going to try and assist a hypothetical disabled Inheritor.

They ended up picking up the stretcher physically and hoisting it down the steps, instead of whatever the alternative was. It was a striking gesture of politeness, and I felt my defenses immediately rise again. I couldn't figure out what their deal was, and I didn't think they were connected with South East's assassination. They didn't seem to gain anything by being nice to me, and especially with going through this much effort just to show me around. Maybe they were bored? Or worse, maybe they felt bad for me? But I hadn't done anything to arouse their pity, except become disabled. But they didn't know or care about me, so why did they care? I almost wanted to ask them what their deal was, but revealing I knew something was amiss was playing my hand too soon. They were going to show me something, I didn't know what, and even if they were malicious rather than stupid, my curiosity got the better of me. I had spent the past who knew how many days staring at the ceiling and hoping against hope that I could wriggle my toes more effectively than the day preceding. Any time spent out of my prison cell, even if it was at the mercy of two strangers, was welcome.

They took me to the cafeteria. Aaron explained that everyone cooked for themself, unless they were feeling generous. "We take turns making breakfast for each other." He explained, gesturing to Harriet. Maybe they were romantically involved? He certainly seemed to be smitten with her, despite his clean-cut appearance and her shabby one. There was something off in his affection though, I thought. It was probably the same unnatural force that caused me to like her as well. That faint pull was probably a result of her Inheritance. Would it be rude to ask? More importantly, would being rude cost me something in this situation? They had some sort of vested interest in showing me around, and if they were determined to, I didn't think one off-color comment would ruin my reputation with them. I decided to risk it.

"What are your Inheritances?" I asked, completely upending the tangent Aaron had gone on about the pancakes he ate this morning before stealing the wheelchair or stretcher.

Aaron laughed awkwardly. "I should've introduced myself that way I suppose. Sorry, it just kind of slipped my mind, since everyone else knows each other. I Inherited the Assimilation. The one that can continue patterns."

I nodded, silently proud I had guessed right earlier. His pinstripes and teeth were too straight to be natural. "I have the Chill." I said, even though they knew already. I hoped this would be considered polite.

Harriet did not answer, and after a short pause, Aaron answered for her. "She has the Greed." He didn't elaborate, and I was unfamiliar with this Inheritance, so it was probably a bad one. Not necessarily that it was weak, which it might be, but that it reflected poorly on her as a person. This was also why she didn't answer. I made a mental note to look it up later, but then remembered I was incapable of doing so. I'd just have to ask around. The question was whether to ask her now, or ask someone else later. Asking someone else at a later time might be considered duplicitous, if the information got back to Harriet, and I didn't want to be on her bad side.

Wait, why did I not want to be on her bad side? Fear gripped my stomach, and I calmed down by reminding myself it was advantageous to be on everyone's good side. If people liked you, they did nice things for you, or at the very least would not choose to hurt you. It was a logical conclusion. I did not want to hurt Harriet for purely logical reasons. If I slighted her, she would slight me. Of course. Pure logic.

The Greed was probably my instinctual fondness for her. She made people like her. That must be it. That or there was something wrong with me and I wanted her affection for some reason. Both possibilities made me viscerally upset though. Did she meet me now just to manipulate me into liking her? Was she pulling Aaron along like a dog on a leash, indifferent to his actual desires? Did people like or dislike her? If they liked her, did they trust her? Did they put away the base feeling in their stomachs and logically conclude she was manipulating them? Why, even now, did I not feel any hatred or fear? When I considered her manipulating me or Aaron, it seemed powerful, almost admirable. The thought was terrifying. But Harriet herself made me feel nothing unpleasant, no matter how hard I tried.

"Let's make lunch." Harriet said, at length, with a moderately upset tone. She then headed into the kitchen area behind the counter where students would have presumably been served food. She spared one glance to me as she went, and on her face was an impossible expression I could only recognize as regret. She clearly hadn't wanted me to know what she could do - she assumed I was familiar with the power, but me filling in the gaps in my information had the same effect - and she felt either the damn-I-lost regret that I figured out what she was, or the guilt-regret that came from being what she was. Logic told me it must be the former, but my heart persuaded me that she simply felt guilt, that she did want to hold the Greed, that I should feel bad for her. I couldn't trust her, no matter how I felt. I needed to remind myself repeatedly, since she could presumably override my emotions.

Or maybe I was just going crazy. Maybe the isolation did that to me. There couldn't be harm in taking extra precaution though, right? Right?