My stomach dropped straight through the floor and kept going.
I'd never seen Vivienne cry. Not once in three weeks of careful observation and increasing proximity. She'd been angry, frustrated, cold as a February morning, warm as summer sunshine when she forgot to maintain her walls, but never this. Never vulnerable enough to let tears exist outside of privately locked rooms and carefully scheduled emotional release sessions.
"I requested not to be disturbed," she said, her voice cracking on the last word like ice breaking under pressure.
"Mrs. Tanaka said you requested not to be disturbed. She never said you meant it."
"That's not how requests work in normal social situations."
"Seems like it's exactly how they work in this house." I closed the door behind me with a soft click, moved deeper into the Archive, stepping carefully around racks of clothes that probably had individual insurance policies. "You okay?"
