The day passed in a fairly normal flurry of paperwork and people giving TamLin a wide berth when they weren’t sneering at him—his particular position meant he was outside most of the supervisory purviews, and with his boss gone…

It was still interesting how everyone ‘knew’ that Puce had been kidnapped and TamLin knew where he was being held…and nobody bothered to question him. If TamLin were foolish, he’d assume that meant there wasn’t enough evidence to even warrant doing so.

More likely, they were keeping eyes on him, expecting or hoping that he’d lead them to his presumed co-conspirator(s) and/or Puce himself.

The lead investigator understanding TamLin well enough to realize intimidation wouldn’t work was good for the short term, since it gave TamLin time to maneuver, himself; but that didn’t bode all that great for the long term. Not if TamLin wanted to stay in this somewhen…which he did. Tech was low enough that he could reasonably protect himself, while high enough to keep him comfortable. From some hush-hush comments he’d read in various scientific research, this somewhen was even going to be unveiling some colonies and space travel in the next few years. Janni had liked Venus, so he suspected Second would, too.

But in the meantime, TamLin had to triple-check that his acquaintances weren’t getting targeted while he dealt with Puce’s shit.

He reached the analysis lab, unsurprised by which coworkers avoided him of their own volition and which just did out of confusion because others were.

Misha, the tertiary science analyst for their shift, was busy on some of the equipment. TamLin rapped the wall lightly enough to be ignored, but Misha whipped his head towards him and scowled.

The man promptly wrapped up whatever he was doing and stomped over to him. “I’m not helping you hide her damn body.”

TamLin blinked blankly, then remembered how he’d had to dose Second with four ebbers the day before—a dosage that Misha had assumed would kill her. “She’s fine.”

“Really.”

Why the fuck would he lie? Especially about something so easy to verify?

“She’s fine,” Misha parroted, his tone turning the words into, ‘The fuck she is.’ “A quadruple dose of ebbers, in someone who weighs less than Kasy—”

“More, actually.” He could’ve said by how many kilos, but specifying that might take the conversation down the route of discussing the biological differences betwixt Nameless and…others.

“Like hell.”

He shrugged in the face of his coworker’s disbelief. “Join us for drinks, later, if you don’t believe me. You seen Kasy?”

Misha studied him, scowling and eyes narrowed. “Why would I have seen Kasy?”

TamLin shrugged again. “I’ve not seen her since this morning. Just wondering if I should be worried.”

“Why, you fuck her, too?” Misha grimaced as soon as the words escaped his mouth. “Sorry. That was out of line. You’re a not a rapist.”

Was he supposed to care about that thought?

“You’re homicidal and an asshole, but not a rapist.” He frowned. “Okay, ‘homicidal’ probably isn’t the right word, either. Sociopath, maybe? You’re not quite a psychopath…”

TamLin was ‘fascinated’ by the analysis, and his expression surely showed it. “I grew up in the middle of an apocalypse.”

Misha’s words spluttered to a stop, and he stared blankly for several seconds.

TamLin just watched him.

“Uh…” Misha blinked fast and shook his head, regathering his thoughts. “Uh, yeah. That actually would explain your, uh, propensity for violence.”

He waited for the inevitable scowl and—

“That wasn’t funny.”

There was the incredulity. TamLin faced it head-on with a matter-of-fact, “Wasn’t fun to grow up in, either.”

Misha stared again. TamLin kept waiting, letting him take the time he needed to process…

“You seriously aren’t kidding?”

TamLin shook his head.

“So why are you dumping this on me?” How quickly Misha caught that boded well for his long-term survival.

“Puce is setting me up to get lynched.”

“Oh. Great. So now you’re making me a target, too.”

“You already are one.” Was that not obvious? “So watch your back.”

Misha scoffed and shook his head, as if in disbelief. “Right,” he said, and his “Thanks” was sarcastic.

TamLin couldn’t blame him. He wasn’t field-rated, so how, exactly, was he supposed to protect himself?

Misha watched TamLin a for a few seconds, as if expecting him to say something else, then rolled his eyes and turned back to his work.

“Well?” TamLin pressed.

Misha paused. “Well, what?”

“Have you seen Kasy?”

“Not since yesterday, no.” Concern rippled through him as it seemed to finally occur to him that TamLin wouldn’t ask without reason. “Is there reason to be worried?”

The woman was a known target for their manipulative boss and other self-absorbed assholes around the office. She’d suffered multiple rounds of drugs and rapes and forced abortions and couldn’t dare leave for fear of how Puce would retaliate, taking advantage of technicalities that were supposed to apply to her due to the sensate abilities she’d been born with but never been taught to use.

Puce was feeling cornered and had cause to lash out at whom he could. And Misha was asking if there was reason to be worried for Kasy?

TamLin just answered him with a bland stare.