“Perhaps you ought. Perhaps you’ll find it harder than you think to pretend all this never happened.” Chain tucked his handheld away, and gripped the arms of the chair. He pushed himself up.

“I don’t owe them. Quite the reverse.” Petrovitch decided he could make it outside without falling over, and tried his luck.

“My point precisely,” said Chain. He beat Petrovitch to the door handle, and held the door open. “They owe you. This—this lovely room, the ambulance, the private doctors, the best of care. That’s just the start.”

Petrovitch hesitated, one hand on the wall. “What do you mean?”

“Honor, Petrovitch. You saved Hamano Oshicora’s only child from a fate worse than death. You saved both her and the family name. They owe you big time. Why,” he said, “you’re almost one of the family yourself now.”

“If I don’t have to play along with you, I don’t have to play along with them.”

Chain motioned Petrovitch through the door first. “You’ll find them a lot more persuasive than me.”

“I’m pretty good at saying no.” Petrovitch limped out into the corridor. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I’m late for work.”

“You’re a student, you don’t get to use that excuse. But I’ll give you a lift if you want.” Chain smiled; it wasn’t pleasant. “You get to ride in a police car.”

“I’m not a little kid, Inspector.”

“No. You’re a poor immigrant who’s just had a run-in with two of the biggest crime syndicates in the Metrozone and ended up in a hospital because your heart is on its last legs. If hearts have legs, of course.”

Petrovitch walked away, dismissing the policeman with a wave of his hand. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

“It’s not what your doctor said.”

He came back. “What did he say?”

Chain shrugged his shoulders. “If you’re going to discharge yourself without telling anyone, you’ll never find out. Until it’s too late.”

Petrovitch stared him down.

Chain reached out and tapped Petrovitch’s sternum. “He said you’ve damaged that one beyond repair. You need a replacement.”

“Maybe.”

“You can always ask for a second opinion. But I wouldn’t take too long about it.”

Petrovitch considered matters. “Your bedside manner sucks. See you, Inspector.” He turned on his heel and buried his hands in his pockets.

“New hearts cost,” called Chain. “You could always ask the Oshicoras to cough up for a replacement, seeing how you wrecked the old one in their service.”

“Yeah. Perestan mne jabat mozgi svojimi voprosami.” Petrovitch walked to the end of the corridor, past the verdant pot-plants balanced on every window sill, through the doors that cut him off from the despondent figure of Detective Inspector Chain.