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“I don’t have a specimen jar big enough for that. We’ll come back tomorrow night.”

Everything in her wanted to snatch that mushroom and study it. For all they knew, it had somehow managed to cling to life from where it had been upturned with the soil. She wouldn’t know unless she could study the mycelium.

“Please, just— Let’s get you home.” His tone had a note of tenderness, enough to stall her.

“All right,” she finally conceded, rising and dusting off her clothes.

She followed Gold Stitch to her car and let him drive. They spent the entire ride in silence until they turned into the car park and he parked away from other cars, turning off the ignition.

“How will you get home?” she asked.

“Don’t worry about that.”

They exited her car and he handed her the keys.

“Why would an Infected person sprout a plant from their organs?” Her voice was smaller than she would have liked for it to sound, but so was his, almost inaudible through the mask.

“I don’t know yet. And now I’m worried about who does. Get inside your dorm.”

He strode away into the dark trees, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat.

She was unnerved by how much he knew about her—her name, where she lived—but it was herlackof fear of him that unnerved her even more. Halfway to Briseis House, she turned to look over her shoulder to find him in the trees, watching her. He made a smallkeep goinggesture, and it wasn’t until she made it up to Third that it occurred to her he’d been watching to make sure she made it inside safely.

Sonder

“Get up.”

Sonder smacked Gibbs’s foot where he lay in his tidy bed in his tidy room so close to Atta’s.

“Gibbs. Getup.”

“Fucking hell,” he groaned, rubbing a fist at his eyes as he tried to sit up. “Murdoch? Fuck. What are you doing in my room?”

It was nice to see the lad’s trepidation of him was eradicated by sleepiness. “I need to talk to you.”

“What time is it?” He looked around blearily. “How did you even get in here?”

Sonder hung his mask on one of the posts of Gibbs’s bed. “It’s 4:56 in the morning and climbing a tree is not that fucking hard. Now getup.”

“I’m up, I’m up.” He shoved on his glasses and Sonder turned on a lamp, Gibbs squinting at the abrupt light. “What is it?”

“What do you know about Atta’s migraines?”

“Atta’s mig– What?”

“Christ, Gibbs. I know you were asleep but this is ridiculous. Hermigraines. Atta has migraines. Why does she get them?”

Gibbs shook his head, hair wild from sleep. “She’s never mentioned them.”

Sonder squeezed his jaws together. “I need you to find out.”

“You want me to spy on my roommate? Why don’t you just ask her?”

“Because I can’t, all right?”

“Is this Society business or Morbid Anatomy business?”

“I fucking swear. You ask almost as many damned questions as she does.” Sonder rose and moved toward the window, grabbing his mask. “Just find out.”