“Lennon, Elise,” Maisie said. “Elise, Lennon.”

“Hi,” he said.

She studied him for a moment before turning to Maisie. “So he’s not going to get the virus?”

“Apparently not. Lopez gave me this temporary vaccine,” Maisie disclosed. “It’s not like a real vaccine. They’re not sure exactly how long it will last.”

“Right. I heard something about that once. Lucky you.” She pulled her mask up and took a breath.

“So you met the border patrol, huh?” Hadley asked, propping her boots up on her desk.

Lennon looked questioningly at Maisie.

“They’re not actually the border patrol,” she said. “They’re just a bunch of inbred idiots.”

“I mean, they’re inbred idiots who have volunteered to patrol the border, so.” Hadley lifted her arms.

“Did someone tell them they could eat runners from the north?” Maisie asked.

Hadley made a so-so motion with her hand. “I think maybe it was implied that no one would be that upset about it if they did.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Maisie said, exasperated. “I do not think we should be encouraging that.”

“Take it up with Declan,” Hadley said. “Apparently he thinks they keep people from the north from trying to come here.”

Elise pushed her mask down. “He’s not wrong.”

Lennon was almost afraid to ask. “They’re really…cannibals?”

“Yes,” Maisie said with an eye-roll. “They’re a bunch of idiots who think that eating human flesh protects against all illnesses.”

“We tried telling them that they get sick less often because they never leave the border and interact with other people, but there’s no arguing with stupid,” Hadley said.

“Sure.” Lennon was still thinking about how someone named Declan had implied they wouldn’t be that upset about eating people from the north. He’d heard that the Spencer/Lopez rivalry was intense, but that was next level.

“Listen, fancy-pants,” Hadley said, and he could only assume she was speaking to him. “Once you get out of here, tell everyone how smart and cool we were, okay? Me, specifically. Tell them how cute I am.”

“I…uh…” It would not be a lie to tell people that Hadley was cute, but he’d also undergone extensive media training with a serious man named Trevor who had threatened to punch him in the nuts if he ever discussed a woman’s appearance. Or anyone’s appearance, actually. But especially women.

His father was above all that. They were projecting an image. He would need to go back and say Hadley was “polite and friendly and professional.”

“I’d prefer you tell no one how cute I am,” Maisie said dryly.

“Maisie, shut up,” Hadley said pleasantly.

“I think that maybe he’ll have more important things to discuss,” Elise said, and coughed.

“I doubt it.” Hadley waved a hand and they all laughed. He didn’t quite get the joke.

He glanced from Elise to Maisie to Hadley. He’d heard about them—not them, specifically, but the generation born inside the Q. Generation Q, people called them. He’d seen a show once exploring what it must be like to have grown up in a confined area, under constant threat of illness or death. It had been a grim hour of television.