“It’s fine, Anna.” She ducks a little to get around him to her own door. “The last thing any of us needs is midnight drama in the Overlook Hotel.” She’s cracking wise to get things over with. She looks back to Sim. “Right, sir?”

He bends to retrieve his lantern.

“Everything goes into the work, Maeve. Everything. You and I are the only ones who really understand that.” He turns to Anna, raising the bottle in her direction. “Chin-chin.”

“Go to sleep, Nielssen,” Anna says.

He nods to Maeve just once before turning to walk back down the hall.

“Trigger Point,” he calls. “Don’t forget I gave you that. It’s a good name.”

Anna cocks her head at this, questioning. When he’s gone, she breaks the silence:

“What was that about?”

But Maeve just shakes her head. She’d rather forget the whole thing.

There’s an adjoining door between the rooms, and for a little while, it feels like a slumber party: Anna pacing around in a long nightgown, her coat thrown over her shoulders like a shawl; Maeve gesturing with her toothbrush as they talk. A storm lantern on the floor spills light like a campfire. Outside, snow is blowing in heavy and wet, the world only white. Even on the sill it’s piled up ten inches deep. There is less window than there used to be.

No new sounds from the hallway. Sim’s room is on the floor above, where Anna has been sleeping; the permanent staff are all two floors below.

“I’ll grab that footage of you off Justin’s camera tomorrow,” Anna says. “Maybe we’ll get to work together after all.” She does a few dance moves of her own. “That fluidity—that kind of feeling in my transformation scene—I mean, if you’re down, obviously.”

“Transformation?” How easily they all move into collaboration here.

Anna stops and strikes a pose.

“Remember? I told you! I’m trying to use the bear dreams as a werewolf narrative. Mostly I keep the camera on Dan. You know. When we’re—” She bites her lip. Maeve drops her jaw in mock surprise, and Anna laughs. “He’s a specimen, that’s all I’m saying. Not hard to turn him into an animal.”

“He’s your werewolf.” Maeve nods, suddenly getting it. Then something occurs to her: “Wait—and he lets you?”

“He doesn’t—” She pauses, reconsidering her words. “He doesn’t love it. That’s why he’s so touchy about Justin’s camera—kind of takes it out on him, I guess.” Anna shrugs. “He’ll get over it,” she says. “They both will.”

But her tone seems unconvincing. Maeve stalls on that, wondering if Dan really knows. Is this what Sadie was doing there—helping Anna somehow? Or keeping track, for Karo?