I had no fucking clue how I should read the things like Kenzie crying and sobbing instead of smiling, or her getting angry in a way that showed, like here or with Chris. Was that growth, genuine and healthy displays of emotion? Or was it worrying because she was getting upset and ranting a bit, that she was grieving, or that her emotions were running this high?

“I miss her,” I said. “Enough it hurts, and that it surprises me a little.”

Kenzie looked up from her food, chewing.

“She was really good company. Maybe the best kind of roommate to have. We had a good sense of each other’s rhythm and boundaries. I feel like she forced me to grow up a lot about some stuff. About the faces we put on and the roles we play, and… it sucks so much.”

“Sucks,” Kenzie muttered. She smiled, eyes downcast. “You know it sucks for me. You saw that video Candy gave you.”

“I—” I shouldn’t be surprised she knows. She didn’t even seem to mind, but that was just how Kenzie worked. “—Yeah. I worry about you. About the projects you’d put together or what you’d get up to when I’m not looking. Because I care about you too, and I know I’d do some crazy stuff if I had your power and I’d just lost someone I cared about.”

“I won’t do anything,” she said. “I only made the Ashley projection with some basic expressions because I was lonely and I didn’t know what to do. It made me feel worse because it wasn’t quite right. So don’t worry, I’ll be good, I’ll stick to old projects.”

Because it wasn’t quite right. It made me think of Amy, about the process that had led to the Wretch coming to be. It made me worry about Kenzie more.

“Okay. That’s reassuring. We need you to talk to someone, I think. And we need to talk to your team. Chicken Little, Syndicate, Decadent.”

“Whatever you want me to do. So don’t make me go back? At least for a little while?” Her eyes were puppy dog big, her smile small and unsure.

“That’s not—it doesn’t have anything to do with anything, okay? You can stay tonight unless they say you have to go back.”

She nodded. She glanced at the screens beside her.

“No cheating the system, sending false messages, or sabotaging things so they don’t want you to come back or, I don’t know, because you set up a hologram that makes them think you’re there.”

“I thought about that but I wouldn’t do it,” she confessed.

I didn’t press. We ate, Kenzie chugged the last half-glass of her O.J., then she hurried over to the sink to begin washing.