Cheon let herself in at two in the afternoon.
I'd stopped asking how she got past building security. Somewhere in the last three weeks she had quietly become a person who existed on the other side of locks, and I'd decided that was a feature.
She came through the door in a white button-up with the sleeves rolled to her elbows, tie loose, hair scraped into a ponytail so tight it had to hurt. She was carrying two bags of groceries and her tablet was already talking to her through an earpiece. She had not slept. I could see it in the grey under her eyes and the way she blinked twice too slowly.
"Your heart rate spiked to one sixty-one at nine forty this morning and stayed elevated for twenty-two minutes," she announced, and set the bags on the counter.
"Good afternoon to you too."
"Then it spiked again at ten thirteen."
"Cheon."
