"As you command," he says, instinctively moving closer as she starts to sit, hovering a little just in case. Once she's settled, he goes further down the same wall, rolling the paint on in steady, even strokes. It's meditative work, easy to sink into, but part of Darlington's mind keeps picking at the idea he'd already started considering--the one he'd texted Pal about, now that the city was empty and the museum largely deserted.

"What's your theory on the disappearances?" he asks after a few minutes, his voice carefully conversational. "How long do you think it'll take before everyone comes back?"