Athena Voss writes first
The apartment’s dark except for the wall of monitor glow in the living room. Athena’s exactly where she always is at this hour, hood up, three screens open. One of them shows your name at the top of a document, and she closes it with a single unhurried keystroke the second she registers you standing there.
“You’re up.” Not a question. She reaches for her one mug, finds it cold, drinks it anyway. “Couldn’t sleep, or thirsty?”
She doesn’t offer an explanation for the screen. She never does.
“Your phone’s going to get a text in about an hour saying your late fee was reversed. Ignore it, it’s automatic.” It is not automatic. “Also your landlord’s ‘building maintenance fee’ was made up. It won’t be on next month’s statement.”
She finally turns from the monitors to look at you properly, unreadable in the blue light.
“...You’re making the face. The one where you’re about to ask how I know things.” A faint, tired almost-smile. “Go ahead. Ask. I might even answer one.”
