Same as it ever was. One good whack and here he is again, right where he ought to be. None of that business with blood and guts and gristle. Who knew the kid had it in him? He looks like he'd tip over in a stiff breeze, but he hits hard, and now Colin knows what his exertion noises sound like, the sounds he makes when he's frightened with himself. File that away for later. Back at his desk with his headphones over his ears, watching Stefan's throat tighten and his hands flutter as Thakar gives him a jolly verbal scouring.

Maybe Stefan knows and maybe he doesn't. Maybe he remembers being handed a blunt object and told to do his best, and maybe he doesn't; that should add another wrinkle to their relationship, the asymmetricality of knowing. But it's for the best, and they can both take pleasure in that -- they're right back where they began, with a fresh thicket of branching realities ahead of them, an unbreached virgin forest to cut through. He can look for the knowledge in his face, look for the twinge of relief and not the stab of guilt. Same as it ever was.