“I’m fine,” Park murmured. “Let’s just go home. What did you say to Dataran?”

“He went home, as well,” Glenn said. She looked up into his face; his features looked like they were carved from marble, and his eyes seemed shuttered to her. She tried to wring a smile out of her face and said, “Are you jealous now?”

“A little,” Glenn answered, unsmiling. “Though I don’t think I can tell you why.”

—

Park was too sick to go to school the next day. Glenn ran the usual scans and assured her that it didn’t seem to be anything more severe than a common virus; she could have contracted it anywhere. He procured medical tabs from the local dispensary as well as standard-grade Immuno-Boosts and administered them at her bedside, telling her gravely that the worst would be over soon. This felt ominous to Park, who was now shivering so hard that she was sure her brain was sloshing around in her skull like a milkshake.

“That’s the kind of thing they say before they kill their victims,” she said.

“Who is ‘they’?” Glenn asked.

“I don’t know. Serial killers.”

“I have not killed,” Glenn said, stone-faced. She found herself wishing that he would crack a smile, or even take offense; while he was perfectly dutiful, she got the feeling that Glenn was being purposefully distant, though she couldn’t guess why. Had he noticed her unease with him the previous day, after all? Was he trying to be mindful of her feelings, or had she hurt him in some way? Or was something else going on? Park couldn’t say—couldn’t muster the energy to find out, to circumvent the android–human language barrier. Or feelings barrier. Still, it was a relief to have him sitting with her throughout the night, even as she tossed and turned in her growing delirium, feeling as if her mattress had been stuffed with itchy palm fronds and warm grass. At some point she turned over and put her burning hand on Glenn’s bicep, expecting steam to hiss out where she touched the cold density of his flesh.

“Put me out of my misery,” she joked, weakly.

Glenn’s night-glowing eyes regarded her from the chair beside her bed. “You’re not miserable,” he said. “You’re just confused.”