Jenx jerked awake, completely forgetting that he had dozed off in his aux room after his own bedroom had been so rudely hijacked. His entire back ached but he still managed to drag himself out of the chair. He had no idea what time it was, his clock was in his bedroom. He peaked into his room now and saw Rifter. If he hadn’t been so annoyed at the man he just might have laughed. Rifter over the course of the night had somehow managed to completely wrap himself in plastic wrap like a caterpillar in a plastic cocoon. His eyes fluttered open when Jenx stuck his head in and he was met with the realization that maybe Rifter hadn’t been asleep at all. Even more questions were raised when he got a look at Rifter’s eyes. They were puffy and red. Jenx proceeded to arch a brow.

“Dude have you been crying?” Rifter sat up slowly, running one eye with his hand before he turned to glare at Jenx.

“That’s none of your business.” His voice was muffled from behind the medical mask. Jenx glanced to the clock now on his bedside table as Rifter pulled some of the plastic wrap off him. An audible groan passed between the two men when they realized curfew wouldn’t be lifted for another two hours.

“Do you want me to get you anything for breakfast?” Jenx mumbled, pushing his mess of red hair out of his eyes. Rifter shook his head.

“No, it’s probably unsanitary. Besides, you don’t have taste testers. You have no way of knowing if it’s safe to eat.” Jenx shot him a bewildered look of disbelief.

“You think someone would poison my own food because they somehow were able to foresee that you would be in my house, at this exact moment, and that I would offer you breakfast.” Rifter gave him a little shrug.

“I don’t know, it’s possible.”

Jenx sighed heavily, he wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to figure this man out and honestly he wasn’t sure if he wanted to. Jenx went to the kitchen, got a piece of toast and returned to the living room where Rifter was sitting on a piece of plastic wrap. They waited in silence for a few minutes and Jenx found the awkwardness so awful that he was forced to try and form some kind of conversation with the unbearable man. Maybe he could at least wrangle a little more information out of him.

“So,” Jenx said slowly, lowering his half eaten piece of toast. Rifter cast him a wayward glance.

“So?” Jenx swallowed hard.

“You’re friends with the prince? What’s that like.”

“It’s fine.”

“Does it ever get weird, him being the heir to the throne and all?” Rifter shook his head now.

“Not really, we grew up together, he’s like a brother to me.” Rifter was actually thinking now, something coming over his violet eyes. “I have a hard time without him...he always manages to calm me down.” Jenx thought of Rifter’s red eyes this morning and wondered if the creator of arcAdia waking up crying was a common occurrence. To Jenx’s sudden surprise, Rifter suddenly asked him a question.

“How about you, do you have any siblings or family?” Jenx assumed that Rifter was doing the exact thing he had attempted, fishing for information. Nonetheless if it would allow Rifter to trust him and tell Jenx more about whatever the hell was going on then Jenx would give it a go.

“Uh...no they’re all dead.” Rifter arched a brow, silently asking him to elaborate. Jenx sighed. “They were killed in a revolt about ten years ago.” That got Rifter’s attention, he suddenly leaned forward on the mangy plastic wrap covered couch.

“Which one?”

“Welcove.” The word didn’t need anything added, the revolt was so bloody that just mentioning the location was enough. Rifter grew silent for a moment before he finally looked to Jenx through lidded eyes and said,

“Mine too.” This was the most human he had ever seen Rifter, and the genuine pain in his voice made Jenx surprisingly feel a little prick of sympathy. Without thinking he instinctively reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder but Rifter immediately recoiled

“Um...s-sorry,” Jenx stammered, unsure of what had just happened.

“Physical human contact...I can’t do it.”

“Really? Why?” Jenx couldn’t read Rifter’s expression from under the medical mask.

“I don’t know, it makes me feel like I’m going to throw up.” Jenx stared at him, he started at this complicated and complete contradiction of a man, this miserable mess of a human being and he realized that maybe...just maybe...he had actually found someone more fucked up then him.

There was another silence. At last, Rifter sighed and stood up. He picked up the plastic and folded it up until it fit back in his pocket. He went to the window and squinted out at the empty streets.

“I have to get going,” he said. “Get back to work.”

“Al-- alright,” Jenx said. “I guess-- I mean-- I’ll probably not see you again, will I?”

Rifter seemed to shake himself. He gave Jenx a sarcastic look over his shoulder. “Well, I should hope not. Thanks for giving me a place to-- crash, I guess.”

He gathered up his stuff. At the door, he paused.

“Don’t try to contact that girl,” he said. “Nothing good will come of it for you.”

And he was gone.

-------

When Vi woke up, the room was empty. She stretched and felt that slightly boozy torpor that seemed to follow every party. Perhaps she was getting older. She shook her head and got out of the bed. She was wearing the same suit from the night before. She went into the kitchen and opened the freeze. There were some water bottles stored up. She opened one and downed it. It brought her back to herself a bit. She looked around the kitchen. It was much the same as she had remembered it.

Palea cooked a lot of odd, foreign food that left her whole place smelling of a heavy mix of exotic spices. Her kitchen was always cluttered with dishes and half-spoiled leftovers. Vi remembered Palea creating a dish of all-purpose hangover cure that would either kill her or get her running on overdrive. She could not remember whether she tried it or not.

It was a year and a half since she left Palea, for her job. Mexy had said her appearance was not congruent with the party aesthetics. Well, she wasn’t wrong. Palea was six feet tall and weighed almost two hundred pounds-- most of it muscle-- and had absolutely no sense of style other than what felt good in the morning. When she showed up at the parties at all, she would drink all the vodka they had, start ranting about the rights of galley laborers, and get promptly thrown out on her ass.

Vi had loved her despite it all, but that kind of behavior just doesn’t market well. She missed her, though, sometimes. Standing in her apartment, she missed her a lot.

From the main room, Vi heard the click of the door being unlocked.

She peered out from around the kitchen wall. The door opened a bit.

“Palea?” she called softly.

A man came through the door in answer. He was of middle age, and middle size. He looked around the room and sniffed. Then he looked at Vi.

“Vi Martin?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Vi said. “Who’re you?”

The man cleared his throat. In an even tone, he recited, “Nat Wallis, 17th adjunct-assistant to His Majesty the Emperor, May His Reign be Long and Fruitful.”

“May His Reign be Long and Fruitful,” Vi repeated, automatically. “What can I do for you, adjunct-assistant?”

“I have been alerted that you have in your custody one ward of the Imperial Crown. His Majesty hereby requests that she be returned forthwith, in the interest of her safety,” the adjunct-assistant explained.

“I have no one with me,” Vi said. She eyed him carefully. “What does this child look like?”

The adjunct-assistant gave a good natured laugh. “You would know better than I, Vi Martin. If she is not with you, then, may I ask, where did you send her?”

“I don’t know anything about her,” Vi said. She spun a good story, as fast as she could with her brain still slow from the night before. “I was surprised by the curfew and I got stuck at an old girlfriend’s house. We spent the night together, but she had to go to work early this morning.”

“Now, how did you get stuck all the way across the city?” the adjunct-assistant asked. Vi blushed. There was merriment in this bland little man’s eyes. “I’m sure you could fabricate an even more exotic story, but I’m more interested in the truth. This old girlfriend-- you wouldn’t happen to mean Palea Pasternak, the author of an incendiary pro-galley pamphlet?”

“I haven’t spoken to her in a while,” Vi said.

“Still-- you must forgive me-- there are so many interesting connections. If you will not give me a straight answer, I will be forced to take you to the Chamber and-- extract one,” the adjunct-assistant said. And he smiled.

Vi shuddered. She cast a look over her shoulder at Palea’s messy kitchen.

“Is this girl so dangerous?” she asked.

“You’d know better than I,” the adjunct-assistant said.

Vi studied him. Finally, she said, “You’ll leave Pasternak out of this if I tell you.”

“Naturally,” the adjunct-assistant said. “I have no warrant for her-- yet.”

“Alright. And this is only as far as I know,” Vi warned him. He nodded, and smiled patiently. “The girl has no chip, and Pasternak’s is from over the border so you won’t be able to track either of them. She uses the regular pass-station just a few miles north from here. I don’t know how she hides any people she takes with her. Then she goes off the main road to the west and takes a winding route. There’s a little town called Asbos there, and I think that’s where she leaves them.”

“Thank you, Ms. Martin,” the adjunct-assistant said. “I’ll find that information most useful.”

“Just don’t bother Pasternak,” Vi said.

“I can’t afford to break promises,” he assured her. “The most she’ll get from me is a parking ticket.”

He bowed out of the room, and shut the door behind him.

Vi sighed. Getting involved was always more trouble than it’s worth