Tila plays with a snag of dry skin next to her fingernail, almost as if she’s bored. She recites her litany. “I’ve worked as a hostess for the last four years. I started in some really shitty clubs, like Gamma Ray. I bounced around a couple of other places, then Sal took me on at Zenith. Right away I knew that was where I wanted to stay.”

She leans back in her chair. She has an audience for the first time in days. After all she’s put me through, I find it infuriating that she’s still putting on a show.

“That’s something I didn’t realize going in,” she continues. “That even though people pay money to go to these clubs, they sometimes still hate you, deep down. Hate that they can’t form any genuine connections in real life so they have to pay for you. Or pay for Zeal in the rooms and for you to join in, as they don’t have any friends who will link with them. They resent you for it. It can make things plenty awkward, lemme tell you. In Zenith, people are nicer, and really seem to like being around you.”

She’d said something similar to me before, but she’d also shrugged, saying that they loved her too. Love, hate, desire, envy, or simple enjoyment of her company. Sometimes all of it wrapped up together.

“And did Vuk hate you?” Officer Oloyu asks.

That stops her. “No, I don’t think he did.” Her voice is quiet.

“What’s the exact specification of your job at Zenith?” Officer Oloyu asks. I can tell he’s interested. He’s likely never been to a club like Zenith. Not on his salary.