When Annie woke up, Auggie was nowhere to be found. It didn't help that she'd forgotten her watch and Auggie's place didn't have a single clock anywhere. She found one on the microwave. 6:23. Was that a.m. or p.m.? The grey mist outside implied that it could've been either. It wouldn't be shocking to discover she'd slept for a whole day. She'd done it before.

Behind her, on the counter, were a house key and a note. It was handwritten on the only kind of paper Auggie ever kept around, a thick card stock designed to hold Braille characters. It matched several pieces stuck with magnets to the refrigerator and around his office; to-do lists, mostly, and notes to self. She wondered if it was wasteful to write on this stuff; it was sturdy and smooth, it had to be expensive.

It always struck Annie as funny when Auggie left her notes because he insisted on handwriting them. She could easily bend to accommodate him, but he stretched to accommodate her. His writing was cramped, calculated, and not entirely straight, but it was legible.

"A- Forget about work. It's not babysitting per se. Be excellent to each other. -A"

Annie read the note several times, brow furrowed. It was definitely 6 a.m., her phone confirmed, but she wasn't sure what the note was supposed to mean... Unless...

The bedroom door opened and Lucy shuffled out.

"You get a note, too?" She held up an identical piece of paper with a not-identical message.

Oh. Annie nodded. "It didn't make sense at first, but now I get it."

"He is hemorrhaging money with this stationery," Lucy commented, trading notes with Annie. She was in the same dress Annie had lent her, hair mussed. She chuckled, reading. "Be excellent to each other. Classic."

Annie gave her a blank look.

"Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure?" Lucy prodded. Annie shrugged. "That's okay, my note didn't make any sense to me either."

Annie looked down at Lucy's note. "L- Ask Annie about a farm."

She couldn't breathe for a second. "Um, okay. Are you hungry?"

Lucy ran her hands through her already messy hair. "I need coffee."

"I'd make you some, but most of the appliances here talk back."

"He uses a French press," Lucy said with a small grin. "As far as I know, it's selectively mute, but that doesn't mean I know how to use it."

"Do you want to run back to my place?" Annie blurted. "Take a shower, get some clean clothes? I know how to work the coffee maker there."

...

Auggie was all set up for a polygraph. He hated these, but Tech Operatives had to take them more than just about anyone. He knew more about the missions he coached than the field operatives, sometimes, and that made him selectively dangerous. Or something.

But this one was different. It was an FBI polygraph, a fact that made Auggie hate it even more.

They ran through the basics; name, hometown, military background, that question about his accident that they asked every fucking time no matter how many times he went in, as if one day he would stand and shout "GOTCHA!" and speed off into the sunset. Then they got onto the relevant stuff.

"How do you know Lucille Anderson?"

"She's my niece."

"When was the last time you saw her?"

"You mean like literally?"

"When was the last time you were in contact with Lucille Anderson?"

"Last night."

"Were you aware, prior to the events of the past week, of her criminal involvement?"

"No."

"Are you aware of any information on the case that you have not revealed to the DPD and your superiors?"

Auggie was so tense. He knew how to beat a polygraph, but he hated doing it. He focused all his energy on the sound of the machine, the beat of his heart.

"Allow me to repeat the question. Are you aware of any information on the case that you have not revealed to the DPD and your superiors?"

"No." The word fell from his mouth like a stone. He knew a lot of things he hadn't told them. That Lucy was a turned asset. That she was being physically abused. That their conversations hadn't even scratched the surface, but already he was deeply concerned for her emotional well being.

He heard the needle jump and the pen hit paper. Damn it. First time in his life he'd failed a polygraph outright. The proctor's voice was calm. "Would you like to try that question again?"

"I said no," Auggie's voice was hard. "Frankly, I think I've tried all the questions I can handle this morning."

The proctor exhaled through his nose, his nostrils whistling slightly. Auggie could smell his breath. He hated other people's breath. The proctor tapped his pen on the edge of the clipboard for a second.

"I still have fifteen questions."

Auggie sat back. He wasn't going to walk out, but he was done with questions. Instead, he crossed his arms and set his jaw. "Fine. Shoot."

If he was going to fail this polygraph, he was going to give the performance of a lifetime.