The chaos had quieted.
Panties returned. Teacups refilled.
The office was almost calm again.
Almost.
Hale stood still. His eyes locked on the folder in the cabinet—the one with the photo that shouldn't exist.
A face that shouldn't have a face.
"Who is ALP?"
The words dropped quiet.
Too heavy to be casual.
Gyroson didn't flinch.
Didn't answer either.
He dusted off the arm of his coat. Poured more tea. Took his time.
"You don't want to start there."
"I already did."
"You want me to lie pretty or ugly?"
"I want you to answer."
Gyroson set the cup down gently.
"ALP isn't a person. He's not even a thing."
"Then why do you have a photo of him?"
Gyroson finally looked at him—really looked.
"Because some things still show up... even when they shouldn't exist anymore."
"So he was real?"
"No," Gyroson said softly.
"He's what's left when reality's done being kind."
Hale's chest tightened.
"He talked to me."
"I know."
"He hurt me."
"That's what he does."
"He said I chose the mark."
Gyroson gave the faintest nod.
"Because you did."
"I don't remember doing it."
"Not everything worth remembering happens in this timeline."
Silence.
Then Gyroson shifted the topic like a blade.
"You didn't come here just for him, did you?"
"No."
Hale reached into his coat.
Pulled out the sketch.
"You left this for me."
Gyroson's tone softened instantly.
"Yeah,"
"Why? This sketch shows that you're going to die"
"Because I can't die yet."
Hale stared.
"What does that mean?"
"It means the moment that kills me has already been chosen.
And you're the one who decides when it gets here."
Hale stood still.
"How? How the hell am I the one who decides that?"
No reply.
"Why me? What did I do?"
Gyroson looked at him, not with answers—but with that tired kind of patience that only comes from knowing things can't be rushed.
"I told you before."
He picked up his tea again.
"Now it's on you...
when you remember—
and when you start doing things the way they're supposed to be done."
The clock ticked. Once. Twice.
Gyroson sipped like the conversation was already over.
"I've got a meeting to attend."
He stood and walked toward the bookshelf, tapping the edge of a frame as he passed.
"Is that what they call it now?
'A meeting'?
Sounds like she'll be late, sore, and emotionally healed
He turned over his shoulder and smirked.
"Now get out."
Hale scoffed.
"Right. Busy man. Important work.
Let me guess—grief counseling via orgasm?"
Gyroson chuckled, adjusting his coat.
"Only on Wednesdays."
Hale turned to leave—
but just before walking out, his fingers brushed across the folder.
The photo.
ALP.
He slid it into his coat pocket.
Quiet. Smooth.
Didn't think Gyroson noticed.
But behind him—Gyroson's smile bent just a little.
Crooked. Knowing.
"Good," he murmured under his breath, almost inaudible.
"Take it. Maybe this time... you'll be ready."
Hale never heard him.
He closed the door behind him.
The hallway felt longer than it should have.