a/n: There are many beds in the naked city. This is one of them.

All the good things belong to Monolithsoft, those splendid animals.

Hope's voice was urgent. "Stop!" She'd flung her hand across the lock pad, blocking Nagi's action, ignoring Quincy's need for support in her haste. Quincy tottered a little, but kept close by her side. She checked that he wouldn't fall, that Nagi wouldn't proceed, then used her free hand to point wordlessly to a scrap of cloth, wedged into the closed door.

Nagi nodded in recognition. "Ah, youth," he muttered with the faintest nostalgia. "Right. Emergency rules. We knock, count to 30, and then enter." He lifted his hand to assault the door.

"No!" insisted Hope. Maybe her voice was too heated, but this was an honest response. There was nothing to blush about. This was perfectly normal, natural. She had seen it often enough, passing through the halls of the barracks. A flutter of cloth, half of a glove, the corner of a bandanna, all securely placed in the seam of a door, waving their discrete warning. In a society of shared rooms, where two, four, eight roommates would bunk together, privacy was difficult. Mostly people used noise cancelling headphones and zoned out on their bunk, or sought the cramped space of a skell for a chance to collect their thoughts. Privacy for romantic purposes was a very different battle. The common agreement was that if an article of clothing was wedged in the doorway, you knocked really loudly and came back in 15 minutes.

Hope shook her head. "Quincy mentioned a roommate getting engaged." Nagi made a sound like strangled laughter. Hope ignored that. "And with Quincy supposed to be out on a mission, and the other roommates probably ..."

"The situation has changed," Nagi pronounced. "This man..."

"Hi!" said Quincy brightly, if drowsily.

"... needs a bed more than the presumed lovebirds." Nagi raised a gloved hand, aiming for the panel. It seemed he had decided to dispense with knocking.

Hope tugged Quincy away. Nagi either had to follow or let the injured BLADE slither to the floor. He very charitably followed Hope. "He can rest in my room," Hope declared. "It's a single, so no one will disturb him."

"And where will you go?"

"I can stay there. I have some work to catch up on, and someone should probably stay with him anyway."

"I meant, where will you sleep? He must have those 12 hours. That is not negotiable." Nagi's gaze drilled into Hope, the effect both diminished and reinforced by the bobbing and nodding of Quincy.

Hope smiled gently. Once she was sure of her course, she was not one to be intimidated, even by a force of nature in regulation black uniform. "I'm sure someone can put me up. Come on, we passed my room back there."

It was a matter of a few steps, but Quincy was making it increasingly difficult. He was trying to walk, but more often he pitched forward with each step. The other two would have found it easier to drag a limp form, but it wasn't worth trying to convince him to let them do all the work. Hope wasn't sure he would understand; equally, she wasn't sure he'd accept the offer.

Nagi politely allowed Hope to open her own door. It took two tries because of balancing Quincy and using the wrong hand and general nerves. The door slid open with a slightly sulky hiss (Vandham had clearly been inspired during his latest city facilities upgrade that made up a large part of his hobbies). The lights flicked on and Hope finally felt the awkwardness of the situation. The air in her room was stale and unmixed, on the edge of being unpleasantly cool. Something felt very wrong to her. The lights swarmed loudly in the quiet and the bed looked unnatural. Distant and formidable.

This was, of course, nonsense. She was just nervous and worried and unaccustomed to her own room after a long, tiring away mission. The bed was only half a shuffle away, taking up as it did most of the floor space. It was a queen-sized bed, outlandish in a regulation single room, but a choice that had perfectly defensible reasons. Reasons which she really didn't want to explain to Nagi right then. She didn't feel up to revealing her thoughts about sharing and isolation and slumber parties and selfish, selfish comfort.

She needn't have been concerned. Nagi, quite frankly, did not care. It registered as an oddity, but unimportant. Mostly, it was an available empty bed that would guarantee this soldier was set to be properly cared for. Nagi could leave it all in the hands of a Mediator and get back to ... what, exactly?

Nagi concentrated on not thinking about what was no longer there. He made no fuss about the furniture or Hope's nervousness. His sword arm was feeling dull today, he decided. He could stand to recharge by attacking some less fortunate Ganglion. He'd allowed himself to waste enough time on this pair. He should get back to being ...? There was that question again. He had a title but what was his purpose? He didn't have a good answer to that question, hadn't had one for a while, which was why he found himself personally transporting barely conscious BLADEs instead of allowing trained medics to do the job. Because they actually had a real job.

He helped seat Quincy on the edge of the bed, slapped the young man on the shoulder, nodded to Hope. Should he review the proper response to Quincy's illness? Ms. Alanzi might be rusty, but she surely could remember the basics once the issue had been pointed out. If not, Frontier Nav was a swipe away. He found himself reciting them all the same. "Twelve hours, Ms. Alanzi. And under the covers. We don't need even the minor attenuation of blankets and... (he looked at the bed, chose his words carefully, was that an ovis with a cartoonish side arm?) ... pillows."

"Understood, Mr. Secretary," Hope answered promptly. "I'll also review protocols. If I have the slightest concern, I'll contact the MMC."

Yes, well, thought Nagi. My job here is done. He waited for the inevitable internal response. It came, he nodded, seemingly to Ms. Alanzi, and with that he left the two in the small but crowded room.

a/n: Tone is all over the place but you know what? We got there, campers.

Next up: What will they do? (Lower your expectations.)

Possibly because I will spend 50 hours playing Tears of the Kingdom.