"Hmm...well, it might work. Maybe..."

Mirk surveyed his possessions, brushing a few cobwebs off the spare crate he'd stuffed his wardrobe into. The spiders in the basement of the healers dormitory were nothing if not ambitious. He'd packed his things quickly to make room for Samael and Sharael, cramming his things into whatever crates and sacks he could bribe out of the Supply Corps men and the washerwomen. There had been room for his things down in the basement, even if there hadn't been any room for him — most of the healers didn't own enough to need the extra space. It wasn't a place to live, dark and stuffy and completely unshielded. But Mirk was trying his best to find a way to fix that.

Staying with K'aekniv wasn't going to work out, not in the long-term. Only a week had passed, and they were already both nearing their limits. K'aekniv could keep projecting even after he fell asleep, but the comforting, homey images always crumbled away as soon as he began to dream, leaving Mirk open to the emotions beyond the half-angel's room and rousing him from his sleep. Mirk would stay awake then, trying to ignore the emotions and remain still, but something would always happen that'd wake K'aekniv: Mirk would jump at a sudden flash of panic from another man waking from a nightmare, or would start to press harder against K'aekniv to better ignore the dormitory's chill. Then the whole cycle would begin again.

It'd repeat the whole night through, leaving them barely rested, functional, but only just. Mirk knew that it wasn't good for either of them. They both had angelic blood; they both needed more than a few hours of sleep every night to do their work and help those they cared for. K'aekniv was too kind to throw him out and leave him to the misery of the long-term ward beds. It was up to Mirk to leave and find a solution. He could have tried putting better wards and shields against emotion on K'aekniv's room, but he knew he was imposing on the half-angel in other ways. The City's working women were starting to shoot Mirk dirty looks when he passed them in the streets and at the tavern.

Which left him with the closet in the basement, and at a loss for what else to do.

"Ah...Mirk. I see we are...considering a similar issue."

Mirk sat up on the crate he'd tried to make a bed out of, blinking. It took him a moment to spot him: Genesis had appeared in the shadow cast by one of the magicked water tanks that supplied the dormitory's baths, his arms full of books and scrolls, expression skeptical. Genesis didn't have to say another word to make his point clear. He knew from a glance what Mirk was planning — the quilts all stacked at one end of the crates probably gave him away — and thought it was absurd. Mirk couldn't help but feel chagrined by how transparent he was, even to someone like Genesis.

"Hello, messire," Mirk said. There was little sense in dodging the issue. And Genesis hated it when people wasted his time. "It's...well. You're right. I'm not getting very far in fixing things, methinks. But at least Samael is doing much better up in my old room. His primaries are even starting to come in..."

Genesis stared at Mirk's jumbled heaps of possessions a moment longer, then turned his attention toward the books in his arms. "I believe...I may have found a solution."

"You have?" Mirk sincerely hoped it didn't involve killing anyone, which was the usual way the better rooms exchanged hands in the K'maneda outside of the healers dormitory.

The shadows reached out to Mirk. He didn't resist them as they tugged him into the cold, fathomless place that connected them to one another. When the darkness lifted, Mirk found himself up in Genesis's quarters, in the larger of the two rooms that comprised them. Mirk distracted himself from the nausea that came with being moved by surveying the changes that'd been made since he'd seen Genesis’s quarters last. The bench that'd been against the wall was gone, replaced by a worktable and a black wingback chair that had a certain sinister, almost resentful air about it. And a gap had been made in the bookshelves that lined the wall facing the door out into the hall. The exposed stones were covered by a complex snarl of runes and sigils sketched out in charcoal. It almost looked like a doorway. One to somewhere Mirk would rather not visit.

Genesis went to the worktable without comment, putting down his books and scrolls. He selected one of the latter, clearing space on the table to unroll it, delicately. "As I have been...indisposed as of late, I have had time to consider a matter that has been...concerning me for some time."

"Oh?"

"The City is ancient. Older than Earth by...several millennia. The K'maneda traveled the realms in it for longer than...Earth's existence. However, since it fell to this realm, it has also fallen into disrepair. Much like the organization itself."

"I see..." Mirk drew over to the worktable, looking at the scroll Genesis was weighing down the corners of with books. A sketch of a building, done in red, the details of its interior filled in with black ink and notated in a language Mirk couldn't read.

"The humans have altered it. For the...worse, in most cases. I would prefer to see it restored. A...long-term project, but one that I thought it would be prudent to begin work on. As it may offer a...solution to your problem."

"What do you mean?"

"The...outer dimensions of this specific building and its...inner measurements are incongruent. Thus logic, as well as what evidence I could locate in the library, suggests there are more rooms available than are currently in use."

Mirk found himself smiling. It was rare to see Genesis being so talkative. It only ever happened when someone expressed interest (usually unintentionally and with immediate regret) in the subject of his most recent studies. Nevertheless, it always made Mirk feel better to see Genesis being less distant and cold. Complex problems and puzzles injected a certain spark of life into Genesis. And this time, the solution didn't appear to involve death. "So you think there might be another room over there?" Mirk asked, gesturing at the sketch on the wall.

Genesis nodded. "The records give little indication of what manner of room, but, considering the floor it is on and its position in relation to the outer walls, I believe it may be...empty."

"Methinks taking a look would be the only way to be sure, then."

"Yes. Disassembling the wall is not an issue per se, but there is the matter of the resulting...dust. If you could see to it, I would be...appreciative."

Mirk hesitated. He knew how Genesis felt about dust — and that he wouldn't do a satisfactory job of collecting it all, even with his magic to help. It was difficult to capture the small particles, to separate their low voices from the distant rumble of the rest of the stone and plaster that ringed the room. Mirk still felt he had to try, considering the importance of what Genesis was offering him, albeit in an indirect fashion. Lending a spare room to a friend would be a small courtesy to most people, but allotting a fraction of the space he'd fought and killed for was something much different, coming from Genesis. "I can't make you any promises, messire, but I'll do my best."

If Genesis heard the concern in Mirk's voice, he gave no indication of it. He set to work straight away, going to the doorway outlined in charcoal and activating the spell surrounding it with light touches and arcane gestures. As the magic came to life, a low rumbling filled the room. Genesis backed out of the spell's range to wait for it to finish, folding his arms with an air of impatience.

Tendrils of shadow rose up from every corner of the room — snaking out from behind bookcases, unfurling from beneath the worktable and armchair — and set to work on the wall. Brick by brick they tore it apart, neatly stacking the spare stones off to one side. Mirk lifted his arms and called to the dust created by the displaced mortar, gathering it into a growing ball of powder between his outstretched hands. He missed a good deal of it, but Genesis didn't seem to notice, his attention riveted on the wall. Each brick revealed further inches of a real door hidden behind the stone. It was made of a dark material, its surface flat, either wood or more stone. There wasn't a handle. And Mirk couldn't hear its voice. It had to be made of off-realm materials.

Mirk worked the ball of dust he'd collected together, compacting it between his hands physically and with magic until it was a chunk of porous stone. He held onto it awkwardly for a moment, then decided to set it aside atop the pile of bricks the shadows had built. "I'm sorry I couldn't get all of it," Mirk said. "But it's better than nothing, non?"

Genesis didn't respond. It was as if Mirk had passed out of existence, as if there was nothing in Genesis's quarters besides the commander and the door he'd uncovered. Genesis went to it, running his hands down its sides as he thought, muttering to himself under his breath. "Hmph, yes...as I thought...spelled to the last owner...a small thing..."

Setting his hands flat against the door, near where its handle would have been, Genesis raised the shadows once more. He grimaced at the effort, but destroyed whatever magical lock was on the door in short order, and it swung ajar. Without pause, he pushed it all the way open and slipped inside.

Genesis inhaled, sharply, a curt hiss. Concerned, Mirk approached the door. "Is everything all right, Genesis?"

"It's..."

Mirk peered inside. The darkness was absolute. "What?"

"A bath."

Curious, Mirk tapped on the tiny magelight he'd taken to wearing around his wrist like a bracelet after so many times being caught in the dark with people whose vision was much better than his own. It didn't illuminate the room fully, but it was good enough for him to get an impression of its layout. Everything inside was either stone or glass, all the fixtures and devices melded directly onto the walls or floor, leaving no room for dust or dirt to accumulate either behind or underneath them, though disuse had caused a layer of it to accumulate on all the flat surfaces. There was a long, deep bath across from the door. To its left was a strange glass cubicle, large enough for someone of K'aekniv stature to stand inside with his wings flared out. To the bath's right was a sink, wide and deep, and beside that a cube of stone large enough to sit on, though its purpose wasn't immediately clear to Mirk. Some manner of privy?

It was altogether strange to Mirk. But stranger still was Genesis's reaction to it.

The expression on Genesis’s face was completely foreign to Mirk. It looked almost vicious, teeth bared and eyes wide. But Mirk didn't think its meaning was negative. It put him in mind, vaguely, of the oddly endearing, strained smile that had come onto Genesis's face when he'd worked the kinks out of the commander's back when he'd been ill months ago. After a few minutes spent watching Genesis's eyes dart around the room, Mirk was certain: Genesis was both in awe of and delighted by what he'd found behind the hidden door.

"Everything is here," Genesis said to himself, voice low and his hissing accent thick as he studied the room. "Exactly as...K’anak said. Extraordinary. Perfection..."

Mirk stifled his laughter in his sleeve. It wouldn't have mattered if he'd started cackling. If Genesis registered him at all in that moment, it was as an afterthought, a witness to what the commander viewed as unparalleled glory. Genesis hastily exited the bathroom, counting the stones beside the door before producing a stick of charcoal from the pocket of his overcoat and sketching out another spell. Mirk followed after him, listening to Genesis mutter to himself as he worked.

"Yes...it has to be here...it has to work...all the spells are connected to the core, it will work...it must work..."

Genesis gave Mirk no warning before he activated the spell scrawled across the stone. Dust flew everywhere as the shadows ripped them aside and flung them haphazardly atop the pile in the middle of the main room. Genesis ignored it. Instead, he pulled the door to the bathroom shut with a gesture, then traced a rune on the metal plate that had been hidden behind the stone. A low rumbling filled Genesis's quarters again, and there was a drawn-out hiss from behind the bathroom door. The moment it faded away, Genesis pushed the door back open. That time, the commander activated the room's magelights as he entered. They were bright and steady, despite their age, filling the bathroom with a cold, white light that left no detail or speck of dirt hidden. Mirk ducked his head back inside, hesitant to ruin Genesis's moment of triumph.

All the dust was gone. The bathroom was perfectly, immaculately clean, so clean that the glass that made up the cubicle off to the left was almost invisible. Mirk noted, with a bit of alarm, that Genesis's hands were shaking as he sat down on the edge of the giant stone bath and felt along the lip at its right side. Runes flared to life under his fingertips. Something in the wall of the bath squealed in protest, the noise followed by the sound of running water. Mirk drew closer, too fascinated to resist. The bath had begun to fill from some source near its bottom. Genesis reached down and trailed his hand through it, sighing. Not in resignation, but in relief.

"Yes. Still hot. Perfect."

Mirk was at a loss. "It...um, it's all very interesting, messire. I'm...glad you're happy with it?"

Genesis drew in a deep breath, attempting to compose himself. No matter how hard Genesis tried, he couldn't force his expression back into its usual blankness. It was astonishing, Mirk thought to himself. Genesis wasn't merely satisfied with what he'd found: he was happy about it.

"This...is the City. This is what it is, underneath what all these...idiots have done to it. Everything is...planned. Every inch. Every detail. Thousands of years of K'maneda, knowledge and skill from hundreds of realms...this is the result. Perfection." Genesis paused, searching for just the right words. "Not the…City of Glass. K'atc'ayet."

Perfection wasn't quite the word Mirk would have chosen to describe the bathroom. Clever, perhaps. Neat. Impressive. Perfection was what Mirk imagined a lost soul felt when gazing upon the face of the Virgin in a vision. But it was obvious to Mirk that the bathroom was the same thing to Genesis, in a strange way: the room really meant something to him, was a glimpse of something close to eternal salvation. Even if that salvation was from dirt and disorder rather than sin. "Methinks I'll have to take your word for it, messire. I don't know much about the old K'maneda."

Genesis turned away, looking down into the slowly filling bath. "This...one day...could be a proper...home."

The words made it all make sense to Mirk, in a rush that left him edging closer to Genesis, debating putting a supportive hand on his shoulder. Genesis had probably never had a place he could call home before, somewhere he felt at peace. If the strange bathroom was part of what made up a proper home to Genesis, who was he to judge? "It's a start, at least," Mirk said, finding himself smiling once more.

Again, Genesis tried to scrape himself together. He managed it better that time, touching another rune on the lip of the bath that, from the sound of things, shut off the water and set the bath to drain. Genesis rose to his feet, looking off at the featureless wall on the right-hand side of the room above the sink, where a mirror ordinarily would have hung. "Every room on this side of the floor must have one of these. I...doubt it will be appreciated by the others, but I find it...reassuring. That the structure remains intact."

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"Everyone likes a hot bath at the end of a long day," Mirk said, in an attempt to be encouraging, as Genesis grudgingly left the bathroom after taking a final look around. Mirk suspected no one would feel as strongly as Genesis did about a good bath, but, in comparison to the stained and leaky communal baths that everyone but the topmost officers shared, the bathroom hidden behind the wall of Genesis's quarters was a vast improvement.

Genesis snorted. "You are...too charitable to others."

"It doesn't hurt anything," Mirk said as he stepped back out into the main room of Genesis's quarters. "Anyway, it was kind of you to offer me a place to stay, messire, but methinks a bathroom isn't the best place to sleep. Maybe there's some other place? If there are hidden rooms like this all over the City, like you said..."

It was only when Mirk mentioned needing a place to sleep that Genesis seemed to remember the original purpose of Mirk's visit. His expression fell back into its usual blankness, though Mirk thought that a hint of his prior excitement was still tucked away underneath his slight, flattened frown. "Further investigation would require...negotiation with parties...not favorably disposed toward me."

Mirk had been around the commander long enough by then to know what Genesis meant by negotiation. Namely, someone getting hit over the head and stuffed in a closet until Genesis had finished his work. "Oh. Well, I'm sure I'll sort something out. And I'm glad you thought of me, anyway. It's very kind of you."

Genesis sighed. "...no. This...foolishness needs to end. I am not...blind. Both you and K'aekniv have been...substantially less productive since you have elected to...share a space. You will both be...inefficient soon if you continue. I believe I still have adequate space for you elsewhere. If that is...acceptable to you, that is."

Mirk didn't know whether to be heartened by the fact that Genesis cared so much for the both of them, or dismayed by the way he could feel his cheeks burning. "I couldn't, Genesis. It wouldn't be right, considering."

The commander made a dismissive gesture. "As I have said before. Once one has lived with K'aekniv, one can...tolerate anyone."

Laughing, Mirk wrung his hands together behind his back to hide his nerves. "It really isn't so bad. I wouldn't mind if all the emotions in the dormitory weren't such a problem. And, well. The women."

A dark look crossed Genesis's face. "That among...other things."

"I suppose we can give it a try, if you insist. But you're welcome to tell me to leave any time you'd like. And I owe you a favor. Methinks it wouldn't be right of me to call it a debt like you do, but I'll help you with anything you need."

Some of Genesis's prior cheer — if it could be called that — returned, as he turned and glanced back into the bathroom. "In that case..."

"Yes? I really mean it, anything at all."

"Bring your potions kit in before the rest of your things. I require some...specific materials. I had no use for them before, but..."

Mirk didn't understand what Genesis could possibly want from his kit, but shrugged and nodded in agreement. "Bien sûr, messire. Whatever you need."

As if pulled to it by an unseen force, Genesis stalked back into the bathroom. For a time, Mirk idled about the main room of Genesis's quarters, biting his lip and fussing with the pile of spare stones stacked in the middle of it as he thought things over. He had a feeling things weren't going to go well, for more than one reason. Perhaps once Genesis had calmed down, he'd reconsider his offer. But until then, Mirk supposed it'd be rude to refuse. He went to the main door and left, its lock snicking back into place behind him as he headed down the hallway toward the stairs.

Even though he still felt uneasy about everything, there was work to be done.

- - -

Mirk sat on the edge of the bed, swinging his legs in an attempt to ease his discomfort as he wondered exactly what it was he was supposed to be doing with himself.

Moving in had been unsettling in its ease. Mirk had thought it would be difficult, that it would involve a lot of cajoling and compromise. But Genesis had been uncharacteristically easy-going about it all. He hadn't even complained about the racket K'aekniv made every time he came up with another trunk or crate, though Genesis had forbidden the half-angel from tramping into his new bathroom to get the drink of water Mirk scolded him into, pouring it himself and telling K'aekniv to keep the glass he passed to him with the barest tips of his fingers.

The only other sticking point had been the bed. Mirk had been reassured in an odd way by Genesis's reluctance to disengage the countless locks and spells on the bedroom door, the critical look he cast in Mirk's direction before opening it and stepping aside so that Mirk could see in. It must have been Genesis's inner sanctum, a place meant for no one other than himself. Mirk had been unsurprised by how sparse and plain it was — two dressers and a table bought from the Supply Corps, along with a bed as large as K'aekniv's, but far less careworn. And just like K'aekniv's, it took up the majority of the small space.

It simply wouldn't do. Mirk had offered to buy Genesis a smaller one of similar quality instead, and pick up a second from the Supply Corps for himself. It was the only logical option. Though K'aekniv truly needed a monstrosity of a bed, owing to his wide, heavily muscled frame and his wings, Genesis didn't. It would need to be longer than most, but didn't need to be terribly wide. Genesis had refused his offer without a moment's hesitation.

It wasn't a matter of Genesis not accepting charity, for once. Though the bed appeared to be mundane, aside from its size, it was heavily magicked. Self-cleaning, repellent to pests of all kinds, impervious to deformation. And designed to meet exact dimensional requirements, though Mirk didn't know if that aspect served some larger arcane purpose, or was merely something Genesis had demanded in order to confirm to his strange superstitions about odd and even numbers. The bed had cost Genesis all of his savings, along with the resentful wingback out in the main room. Though it wouldn't have, had Genesis not refused delivery of two previous beds due to their not meeting his exacting standards.

So, the bed would stay. The indignity of having to share was, apparently, less troublesome than acquiring a new one. Mirk didn't know whether to be cheered by this development, or worried.

The rest of Mirk's things had been handled perfunctorily: Genesis had remained entrenched at his worktable while Mirk had fussed over where to put everything, occasionally offering guidance when Mirk asked the commander a direct question. There'd been no need to get another dresser from the Supply Corps. One of the two dressers had been devoted entirely to Genesis's cleaning potions and various soaps and tinctures, and Genesis had cleared them out without complaint, instead secreting them away in various cupboards and arranging them meticulously on ledges that he had coaxed out of the bathroom's featureless walls. Where they rightly should have been to begin with, Genesis had said. It was more efficient to have every label readily visible from a distance. Of course.

And there was room at the end of the bed for Mirk's two trunks, the one containing his cherished mementos from home and his quilts, and the other full of his father's still-bloodied armor. His small collection of books had gone on a shelf in the main room that Genesis hadn't yet filled, though Mirk had insisted on rearranging things so that his shelf was closer to the ground, owing to their difference in height. Genesis had no complaints about his potions kit and magicked warming plate staying permanently on the worktable, provided that Mirk kept both in good order. Mirk suspected that no matter how hard he tried, Genesis would be the one tidying it more often than him.

Which left nothing but a few odds and ends, sentimental items that Mirk banished to his trunk for good. He knew Genesis wouldn't appreciate having his mother's portrait of the Virgin and the Holy Infant overseeing his work or watching him while he slept. Then again, Mirk had found their gaze more unsettling than comforting lately as well. Their eyes seemed to have taken on a scornful cast, their warm smiles reminding Mirk less of his mother and more of how her smile would have evaporated, had she known of the dark turn his idle musings had recently taken.

And that had been it. He'd moved. After that, Mirk had tried to keep himself occupied by assembling wards and shields against emotion on the bedroom, though he was mindful not to disturb the far more intricate ones Genesis had already placed around it. Mirk worked at them steadily until he felt drained, trusting that the proximity of Genesis's shadowy magic would cover the gap between his skills and what he needed to rest. He'd keep working on them when he had the time and the potential — a useful task to keep him occupied and in the bedroom. Out of Genesis's hair, as it was.

All the while Mirk had been working, Genesis had been tinkering with things in the bathroom, ignoring him, to all external appearances. At least, he had until nightfall. Genesis, to Mirk's combined worry and embarrassment, remembered exactly when Mirk tended to fall asleep. The commander had stopped his work then, instead shifting his attention to teaching Mirk how to use all of the bathroom's strange devices and magic. Unspoken was the assumption that Mirk would give himself a good scrubbing before retiring to bed. He had been spending the past week sleeping curled up against K'aekniv, after all. Genesis could probably smell the half-angel on him.

The bathroom's myriad functions had, thankfully, been less complicated than he'd anticipated. It was mostly a matter of memorizing where all the hidden activation runes were. The glass cubicle in the corner was some manner of standing bath, which, Genesis claimed, was much more sanitary than the ones Mirk was accustomed to.

Using it had been an awkward affair. It was meant for someone much taller than him, and Mirk kept getting soap in his eyes. That and the water was too hot, even when Mirk tapped the rune that controlled its temperature down to its lowest setting. The bathroom's taps had to be connected to the core of magic that kept the City wandering much better than the ones in the infirmary.

Mirk hadn't mentioned the issue to Genesis. The commander was doing him a great and intimate favor, allowing him into his hard-won domain. The least he could do was take a bath in exchange, no matter how odd.

That was what had been eating at him all afternoon, what was gnawing at him presently, as he sat on the end of Genesis's bed in his smallclothes and and kept churning through the scenes again and again in his mind. Genesis allowing him to stay, even going so far as to share his bed, no matter the reason, meant that the commander cared for him, in his own, understated way. The thought should have cheered him. And it probably would have still, had it not been for the rest of it.

He felt like his mere presence there was sinful. Underhanded. Self-gratifying. If Genesis had known about the sort of thoughts that'd been haunting him lately, he never would have allowed Mirk to share his quarters, not to even think of sharing the same bed, even if it was wide enough for two of each of them to fit in it without touching. Most likely, Genesis would have been so horrified by the revelation that he would have vanished and never spoken to Mirk again for weeks, if ever. The right thing to do would be to confess and accept the consequences.

But he was weak. He couldn't bear the thought of losing Genesis, even if only as a friend.

So, there he was. And there he'd stay. Until he could find some pretext, any pretext, for leaving. Or until the strain of having to share the space with Genesis got rid of his unnatural fondness for the man. True, they'd shared a much smaller space for a time, but Mirk thought things were different now. His own desires aside, Genesis wasn't ill and out of options that time. That time, he was entering into Genesis's space, would be forced to follow his rules. And if there was anything Genesis had in abundance beside grimoires, it was rules, all of them unspoken and strange. Hopefully, having to be polite and follow them would exhaust Mirk so badly that he'd want nothing to do with Genesis after a month or so.

"I...believe I told you there was no need to...wait."

Startled, Mirk jumped, looking up toward the door. Genesis had concluded whatever bathing ritual had occupied him for the past hour. Whatever it was, it seemed to have refreshed him. Genesis didn't look as sickly as usual, the skin of his face and hands still pale, but not deathly white like someone had caked him in powder. The water was hot enough to overcome even Genesis's poor circulation. Something in the back of Mirk's mind mused on whether or not all the mystery potions the commander had spent the afternoon making in preparation for his inaugural bath would have made his skin any softer.

Mirk banished the thought with a shake of his head. "Oh! No, I was planning on going to bed, but I must have gotten distracted. You know how I always lose track of time, messire."

"I am...well aware." Genesis looked at him for a moment longer, an odd expression on his face that Mirk didn't quite recognize, before dismissing him and resuming his evening routine. Unless Mirk was mistaken, he thought the commander was beginning to look a touch uncomfortable. As if he'd been so consumed by thoughts of taking his first "proper bath" in ages that he hadn't considered the full implications of allowing Mirk to stay with him until that moment.

It launched Mirk into action. He hopped off the end of the bed, going to the side of it further away from the door and plucking at the tidy, doubtlessly expensive bedclothes. Genesis hadn't mentioned spending any of his savings on them, but he was all too familiar by then with what passed for bedding from the Supply Corps. The sheets and blankets they sent in heaping baskets to the infirmary each morning were rough enough to leave rashes on even the most weathered infantrymen. Genesis's bedclothes were as fine and smooth as the ones Mirk had been accustomed to in his noble household, though they were black, just like everything else the commander owned. A bit dramatic, in Mirk's opinion, but he'd take any color bedclothes over the Supply Corps' offerings. They probably even kept themselves clean, somehow, just like the bed did. Not that it would keep Genesis from washing them at least three times a week.

"I did want to ask you before I went to sleep, though...do you have any, euh, rules? About the bed? I don't mean to pry, but you are very particular about things, messire. And I wouldn't want to cause any more trouble than I already am."

Mirk forced himself to look up, meeting Genesis's eyes across the bed. The commander seemed deeply puzzled by Mirk's question. "It is a bed. Its use is...self-explanatory."

"Ah...right, of course."

There were more blankets piled on top of the bed than Mirk was accustomed to, of varying thicknesses and textures, their particular use unclear to him. Mirk settled for pulling all of them back before sliding in underneath them. Though Genesis's quarters weren't damp like K'aekniv's had been, the low-born officers dormitory was still quite cold, even on the upper levels. Mirk would need all the heat he could get, especially without K'aekniv's inhuman warmth beside him to help things along. Before Mirk could find a comfortable position on the far end of the bed, Genesis extinguished the magelights. The darkness in the windowless room was absolute. Mirk would miss K'aekniv's winglight, pulsing with each of his drawn-out snores, almost as much as his warmth.

He curled up on the very edge of the bed, hugging himself for both comfort and warmth. The bed was firmer than he liked, but it wasn't uncomfortable, not exactly. What was unsettling was the knowledge that, though he couldn't see or hear him, Genesis was only a few arm's lengths away. Mirk found himself thinking back to the time he'd spent sharing his undersized bed with Genesis back when he'd been ill, before things had gone wrong. Part of Mirk longed to return to that place, for the comfort of Genesis's physical presence, of his body that was all sinew and bone but pleasant to lean against nevertheless, of his slow breathing that was soothing in its immaculate regularity. But he knew he could never have that again. Not unless God took mercy on him and lifted whatever madness had consumed him.

Mirk didn't feel as if he deserved that much.

He tried to ignore the thoughts. Dwelling on them wouldn't fix anything. Instead, Mirk stretched out his mind, searching for any errant emotions that might have slipped past the room's protections. There were none. The room was completely silent and still, save for the rise and fall of his own chest with his own, faintly rasping breath. Despite that, Mirk was acutely aware of the fact that he wasn't alone. He couldn't feel Genesis's emotions, but he could feel his presence, his magic. A gentle static against his mind, a living void, shadows that shifted and curled regardless of whether Genesis commanded them to or not, moved instead by some minute fluctuations in their master's moods that were unknowable to him. Mirk didn't know whether it was a blessing or a curse that he'd never be able to feel them.

Just as Mirk was about to reach for the rosary around his neck, to start thinking his way through the familiar prayers in an effort to put himself to sleep, he heard Genesis sigh. "You are...disturbed."

"Hmm?" Mirk shifted, glancing over his shoulder on instinct. He couldn't see a thing.

"You are disturbed," Genesis repeated, with more certainty this time. "Unless there is some...other reason why you have not fallen asleep."

"Oh, no," Mirk said, pressing his hand to his breastbone rather than grasping the rosary. His heart was beating faster than usual, Mirk supposed. He hadn't considered the fact that Genesis, with his inhuman senses, would notice it. "It's just...I can't feel you, messire. I know this has to be terribly inconvenient for you. And it bothers me to be a burden, especially when you worked so hard to have a place to be alone."

Genesis considered this for a time, the press of his magic growing even more faint. Mirk couldn't see enough to hazard a guess as to why that was. "This was...unexpected. But it is not burdensome. Per se."

"It isn't?"

"No." Genesis sighed again. Mirk thought he could detect a hint of frustration in it, more of a hiss than usual. "Is there some manner of...ritual involved in sleeping I am unaware of?"

At a loss, Mirk turned over onto his other side, facing the darkness, thinking. He felt desperate for thinking of it, pathetic. But it was the only way he could be sure of things, with the darkness and Genesis's magic obscuring all his other faculties. "Tiens. Give me your hand, please."

"...what?"

"Like I said, I can't feel you. And though I'm getting better at telling what you mean, methinks your expressions are a little, euh...different, from most people's. But your body makes sense to me. At least, it does now."

Mirk didn't hear Genesis move. But after a few seconds, he felt the back of Genesis's hand knock against his arm. Mirk fumbled in the dark for it, feeling his way to Genesis's wrist underneath the commander's thick, foreign sleeping clothes, pressing two fingers to the pulse there. "This is the same as what you do, non? Only I can't hear it from across the room like you can."

Genesis didn't reply. But his body told the story well enough for Mirk to be certain. His pulse was the same as ever, deathly slow and even. Though it felt a touch faster than usual, and his skin a bit warmer, Mirk was certain the difference had to be from the bath. He would have been pouring sweat and on the verge of fainting if he'd spent as long in the scalding water as Genesis had. Even a body that was resilient as Genesis's would have to feel its effects, somehow. And there was no tension in his body, no unsettled tinge to Genesis's magic, beyond the usual vicissitudes of the chaos.

For once, Genesis spoke before he did. "This does...comfort you. Somehow."

Nodding, Mirk released his wrist, after giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You're always the same, Genesis. It makes it easy to tell if something's wrong. Not that I don't think you'd tell me the truth, of course."

"I...see."

Mirk couldn't tell whether Genesis found his own regularity annoying or reassuring. But it did make one thing clear to Mirk: if there was someone who was made uncomfortable by his new home, it was him, not Genesis.

He needed to be practical. Sensible. Rational. Otherwise he'd never get any sleep. Mirk knew there was no getting rid of the thoughts that plagued him, no amount of force or reason he could apply to them to banish them back to the dark hole in his mind that they'd crawled out of. All he could do was accept what was, watch, but not engage, and wait for them to pass. Just like he'd seen the attraction between so many noble ladies and their husbands wither on the vine once the novelty of marriage had passed and their true natures became clear to each other.

All he could do was hope that Genesis wouldn't be disgusted by him once the commander finally sorted out the true colors of his nature.

"It's fine, messire," Mirk said, as he settled back in on his side facing away from him, snagging one of the two pillows Genesis had deliberately set aside for him out from underneath his head and hugging it to his chest instead. "Try to get some sleep? You don't do well without it either, you know. Even if you don't like it."

"...right."

In another act of petty self-indulgence, Mirk sought out the feel of Genesis's magic with his mind. It wasn't as good as the press of his body, but it was still soothing, in a way. Mirk knew that as long as it was there, as long as Genesis stayed nearby, he wouldn't be woken up by a dagger of pain or the oppressive, choking feel of second-hand lust. And he found the odd not-patterns of it, the ones he'd memorized by heart, as lulling as the decades of the rosary. Familiar. Dependable. Steady. Strong. A song with words in a language that he knew but didn't quite understand, just like the Latin of Matins and Vespers.

Mirk didn't know what that comparison said about him. But he had no choice other than to accept it, or spend the whole night keeping them both awake.