I’d originally planned to include her from the beginning, but when Jessica had been leaving, and I’d been faced with the decision to bring Sveta along or not, this way had felt more sensible.

After a pause, Sveta seemed to accept the line of thought, though it was a far cry from accepting everything.

“I want good things for you,” I said, meeting Sveta’s eyes, my own eyes moist. “You backed me up when it counted and I want to do the same, but I can’t even give you a reassuring hug on days like today.”

Sveta blinked a few times, trying to be angry, but getting teary instead. The tears were black, welling in the inner corners of her eyes.

Vista pulled out a tissue from her belt, which Sveta took. She was remaining the mostly silent ally to the both of us. A referee. I was aware guards were close enough to hear, and so were the two prisoners.

My heart pounded as much as it had in any fight. I hadn’t handled this well. This… it came from black thoughts in the car ride. From thoughts of indulging in monsters, wading into murkier waters. It wasn’t familiar ground, and now I was repeating Jessica’s mistake from earlier in the day.

“Show me?” Mr. Bough asked.

Sveta turned his way.

“Show me what I’d be working with.”

She stared at him for what might have been twenty seconds, before reaching up. She undid clasps and removed her dress, then shed her wig. As if to be more imposing, to scare him away from what he might say if he were insecure in the least, she raised herself up and stretched out.

“What do you want?”

“To be human again,” Sveta told him. “To have my body again.”

“I can think of ways. I can try.”

“Trying isn’t good enough,” I told the man behind the glass and chickenwire barrier. “If you can do it, we can talk special dispensation while you’re locked up. I pull favors, get you something to send you on your merry way. Television, solar panel, something to play movies, or—”

“Regular,” he said. “Regular visits. Once every week, something smaller, books, supplies. Check on me, ensure I’m well.”

“We can look into it,” I said, glancing at Vista.

“There are people who we put in remote places, bolt down their supplies to the rock,” Vista said. “Ensure they can’t roam, make it harder for them to get help if we check on them. Some of the minors. We have a precog check the coast is clear, and if it isn’t, the plan is to just leave them to rot, count them as dead.”

I looked at Mr. Bough.

“Works,” he said. “No recruited help. Just… give me enough to stay in touch with things.”

“Twenty dollars in value, once a month,” I said.