“Sure. You want me to put on some coffee?”

“Please.”

Giselle waved to Qaphsiel, who was sitting on the couch. “Morning. Do you want coffee, too?”

“Thank you, but I don’t eat. I like the smell, though.”

“One cup of brown steam for you.”

Coop spent a few more minutes in the bathroom, washing up and brushing his teeth, gargling, and doing it over again. Back when he was a teenager and just learning to drink, he’d decided that morning puking was the worst kind because it was essentially the outside and inside of your body fighting over which wanted to commit suicide first. His insides were winning this morning, but by the time Coop came out of the bathroom, his outsides were making a comeback and he could stand and walk. As long as nobody pointed any guns at him today, he thought, everything was going to be fine.

Coop saw Qaphsiel on the couch, blankets and sheets neatly folded beside him.

“Did you sleep last night?”

“Yes. Thank you for letting me stay. It was a lot nicer than the park.”

“Not by much, I bet.” Coop knocked on Morty’s door. No one answered. “Did you see Morty last night?”

Qaphsiel shook his head.

“Good for Morty,” said Giselle, coming out of the kitchen. “I wonder if his Russian is one of those bodybuilder types? I hope she didn’t break him.”

“Morty’s fine. I guess this DOPS mess has worked out better for us than I thought it would.”

“Speak for yourself,” said Giselle. “That pizza was terrible. You should let me order next time.”

“Okay. Next time,” said Coop, trying not to smile at the idea of a next time.

“Oh, shit,” said Giselle. “Is the clock on the wall right?”

Coop glanced at it. “It’s always on the dot.”

“Then I’m late,” she said and rushed into the bedroom. She closed the door and Coop heard her rushing around getting dressed. He’d left his phone on the living room table last night. And now it rang.

“Hello. Is this Charles Cooper?”

“Yeah. Who’s this?”

“We haven’t met, but I’m Mr. Woolrich over at Peculiar Science. Technically, I was your boss until you decided to leave us.”

“Right. You’re Salzman’s boss. He talked about you.” Coop kept sounding cheery as he talked, but backed quietly into his bedroom, where Giselle was half dressed. He looked at her as he talked. “So, Mr. Woolrich, what can I do for you?”

Giselle’s forehead furrowed. “Woolrich?” she mouthed. Coop nodded.

“There’s been a development here at the DOPS that I was hoping you could help us with.”

“And what’s that?”

“Would you reconsider taking the job you were offered yesterday?”

Coop opened his eyes wide at Giselle. She came over and put her ear next to the phone so she could hear.