Kim finally fell asleep again towards evening, somewhere right before dinner, too. They left the covered tray on the table by her bed while she slept, and when she woke up again it was nearly dark outside, the hubbub of the day traffic subsided in the hall. Even the smell of hospital food was at least a little bit enticing, and there were distinct voices outside her room.

"Ms. Kim?"

Two standard government issue men, in two standard government issue suits, with two standard government issue pairs of sunglasses, datapads, styluses, and watch devices. They could have stepped right out of the graphics of some alien conspiracy novel. It wasn't that she didn't trust them on the spot, it was just that being confronted with a character from the realm of fiction was unnerving.

All right, maybe she didn't trust them out of some knee-jerk reaction to their suits and sunglasses. Who wore sunglasses indoors, at night? Really. They had cybernetic implants or correctional lenses for those kinds of conditions, that both of which were a lot less creepy.

"That would be me," she said, not pointing out that addressing someone by their title and name wasn't the way to open warmly or inspire trust. "What do you want?"

"Ms. Kim, we have reason to believe that you were a witness to an event peripheral to a federal crime, may we ask you some questions about your attack the other night?"

All monotone, no expression whatsoever, she wasn't even sure the man had taken a breath. Impressive, despite also giving the impression that the man was some kind of cyborg or an entirely artificial life form. The AIs were lifelike these days, she thought. "Come here a sec."

They did, to her somewhat surprise. Moving almost in unison, too; the one on the left moved a little quicker than the one on the right. Faster reflexes or longer strides, she wasn't sure which. Kim reached out and grabbed their hands and gave a bit of a squeeze. Yep, it felt like human hands, human skin and muscle beneath, with the warmth of someone who had a real pulse and not one made up entirely of chemicals and artificial liquids. She dropped their hands and their eyebrows wrinkled behind their dark glasses.

"Sorry. Just had to make sure you weren't robots."

One of them must have twitched a smile she didn't see, because he responded, and in the exact same monotone: "No ma'am, the government doesn't provide the funds for lifelike robotic agents."

She tried not to laugh. She pressed her lips together not to laugh but a smile forced itself onto her mouth anyway, and her eyes crinkled at the corners. All right, then. "Okay. Ask your questions, not-robot agents."

"In the days leading up to the attack, did you notice anything unusual? Anything that might indicate your attackers had singled you out?"

It seemed like an odd question when her attackers were so obviously not human. Or something. No, not human was stretching it, but they hadn't act like people in any way, shape, or form that she knew, not even people with some kind of mental health condition. Kim tried to think back over the week before, at least a week back, to figure out if anything had indicated she was going to be jumped by feral humans. "Ah... no. I don't think so, anyway. Nothing comes to mind."

"Did your attackers say anything?"

"No-o. The police already asked me that, if they'd asked or said anything that might tell them why..."

The agent shook his head slightly. "You misunderstand me. Did they speak at all, or indicate that they were capable of using or comprehending human speech."

Well, that didn't support her theory that they were non-humans of some kind, of course. Actual, living non-humans, which weren't supposed to exist. Suddenly the government robot theory was starting to sound like it might hold up, too. "Ah. Come to think of it... No."

They ran through a list of questions without taking any notes or checking anything off except in their heads. She could all but see the tick-boxes or little round bubbles fill in. Did they have a strange smell. They had. Did they move in a certain way. They did. Where did they approach. Outside of the light. Ten or twelve more questions, all of them adding up to the fact that the government agents knew exactly who or what had attacked her, and if they intended to do anything about this they weren't going to tell her anything. She didn't even bother asking, although they did give the usual 'we'll be in touch' statement when the nurse finally kicked them out.

"They didn't bother you, did they, sweetie?" Not that the nurse couldn't tell; her vitals were probably a little high. Blood pressure and pulse at least.

Kim shook her head. "Nah. Not more than the government usually does, anyway. Federales can't pin nothing on me," she added, putting on a brave face, a smile, and a bad accent. The nurse laughed, made sure she was all right, and left.

Which left Kim with nothing but time to lie back and wonder what the hell was going on, what the government had to do with it, and why they hadn't asked any questions pertaining to her job or her security clearance.

You paced around the gaping chamber wondering what went wrong as you fled back to the place you now called home. She smelled right, but she wasn't right, had no idea what you were doing. She felt right, but she was wrong. And that confused you. You didn't know what was going on.

You lay out everything you know about her in your mind. Hard to say when you first noticed her but you barely know her, and you knew from the first that she wasn't like you. She was brilliant. Like fire. Like the light, she was implacable and permanent in your mind, but also indistinguishable when on the outside and impossible to comprehend. She used sounds to mean things you didn't follow, complex words that made no sense. She moved faster even than you could, although not by much. Her tools were better than yours, and she was fierce, and that made her even more bright but you didn't know what she was, or why she was apart from you and yet a part of you.

The words to explain all this away were not in your mind, nor in your vocabulary. All the things the men in white coats had taught you hadn't prepared you for this. Nor had they prepared you for the disappointment when she didn't recognize you and you had to flee back to the chamber.

Where now you pace, restless and upset, trying to decide on a course of action that undoes the confusion and puts things right in your world again.

"There's no doubt that they were test subjects. How they escaped from the facility has yet to be determined, but they matched every parameter."

Rimbaugh frowned. "You checked." The government agent nodded. "And you checked it again?"

A flicker of irritation crossed his regulation-standard face. "I do know my job, doctor. We checked her responses and we checked the list of known qualities you gave us. The people who attacked her were the subjects from your lab."

"Dammit!" The explosion of temper drew stares from up and down the hall, and even from the people still working behind the now-transparent glass. "Damn." More softly, that second time. Still, he didn't like the pile of questions this brought up. How had the creatures escaped? Had they escaped at all or had they been let out? If they had been let out, how, and why? How big was this security leak, and what was behind it? And what were the consequences of having these creatures escape? They had established that the retrovirus which caused the cascading mutations wasn't contagious, and even if it was to get to that state they would need to be exposed to two subsequent viruses, but that didn't mean it couldn't happen.

Had someone stolen the original retroviruses involved and used them on subjects of their own? The thought was morally reprehensible, experimenting on innocents, women and children, potentially. "Did she describe them beyond what you asked?"

"All male, all physically fit, no distinguishing marks. Of course, her witness statement isn't going to be the most reliable description of the..."

Rimbaugh waved a hand. "No, never mind that. That doesn't matter right now. I take it you are now conducting a security evaluation of the laboratory and the accompanying facilities?" Calm. He had to be calm. And he was, he could be, to deal with this problem. It was only an unexpected problem that needed to be evaluated for its underlying causes and fixed. Just like any other they had encountered working on this project.

The agent nodded. "Analysts are collecting and processing the data. If necessary, we have a tiger team on standby to conduct an active investigation and test of the facilities."

"A tiger..." he frowned, then shook his head. No doubt some kind of security analysis team. "No, never mind. Let me know the instant you find out what happened, do you understand? The very minute, I want to know the full details of what has escaped our facilities, where and how and by whom, so I can rectify the problem."

The agent's brows arched above his dark glasses. What kind of an idiot wore dark glasses in an enclosed, climate and light controlled building, anyway? An obedient idiot, at least; he nodded. "Of course." And even proceeded down the hall without him, towards the elevator, presumably to do as he was told. Thank god for decent, competent help.

"What was that?" Murdoch frowned, appearing at his elbow. Rimbaugh twitched more than jumped.

"Nothing, it was nothing. There may be a problem with some of the test subjects..."

That had been the wrong way to say it. Murdoch frowned, coming in closer to Rimbaugh's personal space and fidgeting with his hands. "What do you mean, a problem with the test subjects? What sort of problem?"

His breath smelled of age and mints. Not what Rimbaugh wanted in his face right now. "Nothing I can't handle, it's just a small security problem. I already have an internal affairs team on it.'

"Oh..." Murdoch nodded. His expression didn't clear as quickly as he stepped back, but he nodded. "Oh... all right, then. Do let me know if it becomes an issue, won't you?"

Troubled as he looked, he wandered off before Rimbaugh could say anything further, which the other man considered a blessing. He'd have to get a full security review, the transponder frequencies of every single test subject they had ever processed past that stage. It was going to be a long, long night.

"I don't like this, man. I'm telling you, they're going to find out, especially after what..."

George grunted in frustration, shoving at the coffin-shaped container until it wedged itself into the last open space in the truck. "They're not going to find out, you fucking pussy, would you relax? They're not going to find out because some chick barely connected to the project was mugged, and they're not going to find out because there is nothing to find out." Every word was punctuated by a fat finger stabbing into the smaller man's chest.

The smaller man, Deion, shrugged. He figured that the reason George was freaking out about over being questioned about his, well, questionable body dumping practices were because he was terrified someone was going to find out. Because this wasn't safe. It wasn't secure. They only had George's buddy's word for it that the sewer pipe they were dumping all these bodies into was abandoned. Dumping bodies in a hole in the ground instead of spending a day down at the incinerators, taking two hours for what would have been a nine or ten hour job waiting for the cremation to finish had seemed reasonable at first. He got to go home in time to help his kid with her homework. And not get nagged.

After a couple more trips, though, he started to wonder. Something didn't feel right about the whole mess. Maybe it was just how much they looked like humans.

Maybe it was feeling like he was dumping someone's loved ones down the toilet. Not at all like flushing a goldfish.

He mouthed the words along with George, who was still ranting as they got into the truck. That was how George always described it, like flushing a goldfish down the toilet. "No one's going to miss them, no one's going to ask any questions, no one even goes down to the incinerator to check, you noticed that?"

"I noticed." Deion snorted. "Don't mean they won't. Maybe one day they will go asking the incinerator people, hey, what happened to all them bodies we sent over? Thought you were going to send me some paperwork. Then we're up shit creek without a paddle."

George gave him a dark look as he started the truck. "Whose side are you on, anyway? You want to go back to getting yelled at, never seeing your kid? Marriage in trouble still?"

"Should never have told you that," he muttered, not loud enough for George to hear.

They bickered back and forth some more on their way to the dump site. A sewer pipe just outside of town, across the bridge, that fed under the river and into a defunct sewage treatment plant. George used to work for city maintenance.

They hauled the containers out of the truck and then it was too much effort to keep talking, so Deion quit it. George yammered on for a few minutes more before he, too, shut his trap and got to grunting and shoving the tubes down the hole. Deion had to kick one a couple of times when it got caught on something.

"Go in, you bastard..." And then he almost fell in after it when it rocked forward faster than he expected and slid in with a long scrape and a loud thump at the bottom. A thump that echoed.

This just reinforced his fear that all of this was a bad idea. Dumping the bodies, going against orders, giving the poor bastards an undignified burial in the middle of a waste pile somewhere. Not that being burned to ashes was all that dignified, but it was more final. He wasn't going to have nightmares about their mottled gray faces, too smooth and curved to be human, staring at him through the window.

"Come on, let's get out of here," George grunted, beckoning him back to the truck.

Deion gave the open sewer line one last dubious look before he hauled the cover on top of it again and hopped back in the truck with his co-worker. As heavy as those damn covers were, at least he knew nothing could budge it. He was pretty sure.

Anything other than that damn hospital was a welcome sight. Even the benches and tables and the boss's cage. Kim waved to everyone who called her name, made rude gestures and faces to those who catcalled or swore, a little bit of both to her friends. She pulled out a chair and flopped into it at her usual lunch table, startling Scofield.

"I didn't think they were going to let you out this early."

She couldn't tell if he was disappointed or relieved. Or both. Maybe both, knowing him. Complex bastard. "They gave me time off for good behavior, and your Mom wrote a letter of reference."

"Neat trick. Where'd you find a psychic to do that?" Scofield's mother had been dead for ten years or so by that point. "You sure you're fit to come back to work?"

"I'm not back on duty yet, not for another two days. Shrink won't sign off on my reaction time." And she wasn't that unhappy about it, either. Rest gotten in the hospital never felt like rest to her. It smelled funny and there were all those machines and the awareness that people could be dying in the room right across the hall from you. The whole place stank of mortality. She preferred to be out on the streets where mortality took a backseat to speed and death just wasn't something you thought about as being up close and personal. If a car took you out or someone knocked you off a skyway and you landed wrong, you didn't get time to think about your own mortality. You just died.

God, why was she in such a morbid mood today? "What about you, what got you to crawl off your sister?"

He gave her a level stare for that. "Okay, enough with the incest jokes. I've got a contract. I picked up your interim work while you're still in recovery."

That did shut her up, more so than him telling her to can it. "I didn't think you had clearance for that."

"They exempted me. I've worked those jobs before, I told you, I know how this goes." Bland upon bland. Where he'd been teasing her about it before, now he was calm and as serious as she'd ever seen him. It unnerved her, some.

Kim frowned a little harder. "And maybe ..." She bit her lip and listened to the silence of people eavesdropping around them. And didn't say anything about how maybe he knew the right people in the right places, even if she was thinking it now. "... you know who the SecDef is sucking off in his off hours, too. I don't buy it."

He shrugged. "Talk to the duty manager, what can I tell you." The duty manager wouldn't tell anyone anything. And wouldn't tell Kim anything while she was officially not on duty and not on the case. She didn't need to know other people's schedules, anyway, that wasn't covered under clearance. But it would keep the eavesdroppers from finding anything out, too.

"All right, all right. What are you going to do after I get back, then? Because," she stabbed her finger into the air between them. "You can bet your sweet brass underpants I'll be back."

Scofield blinked at her choice of epithet, then laughed. "Probably move on to something else. Like your sister."

"I thought you said to cool it with the incest jokes..." she looked up just as the duty manager came by. "Hey, speak of evil, what's up?"

"You casting aspersions on my good name?" the woman retorted. A hefty woman of dark skin and even darker glares, she pretended to be far more of a bitch than she actually was. And then made everyone she pulled strings and did favors for swear they'd had to cry and plead and beg to get it out of her. It amused Kim. "I got a question for you..."

"We haven't been doing anything to your ass. If we'd been doing something to your ass, you'd know it," Scofield grinned at her, his shit-eating grin he gave people who didn't dare give him shit back, especially when he knew it.

"Shut it, Scofield, this concerns you too. Kim, when can you come back to work?"

She frowned. "Soon as the shrink tells me I can, why?"

"Because the boss... not the DoD boss, the project boss. Of that job you were working? He is riding my ass like the devil on a sinner trying to get me to tell him when you're going to be back. Something about changing horses in mid race or something, knowing you personally and the two of you being like this... which is a damn lie, he didn't even know your damn name." Bitchy as she could be, the duty manager also took care of her runners. "Apparently Scofield here isn't good enough."

"Good judge of character," Kim snorted, pushing Scofield's rude gesture away. He moved his hands back; this time there were two rude gestures. "Shrink gave me two days, then he'd test me again, see if my reaction time and shock levels are back to where he wants me on wheels and the skyways. Till then, there isn't anything I can do, they won't insure me."

"Great," she rubbed her forehead. "I'll let him know. Maybe he's got some pull with the insurance companies, I don't know. Maybe I'll give him their number, he can ride their asses for a change."

"Ooh, baby, take pictures," Scofield called after her. Kim kicked him under the table. "Ow. What's all that about?" Suddenly serious. Not that she could blame him.

"I have no idea. I've never had any client do that before, not even the ones that actually liked me. Not after an accident and being hospitalized..."

Under mysterious circumstances. Hospitalized when she shouldn't have been hospitalized, and now a scientist on a project, a project leader, wanted her making regular visits around their labs? She wondered if she was being paranoid or if it made rational sense. Scofield watched her expressions change, then shook his head.

"Whatever it is you've got, they want it," he said, making her stare sharply at him.

"I don't have anything, okay? I didn't take anything, I didn't..."

He shook his head. "That's not what I meant. Something about you is desirable to them." He enunciated each word carefully, for emphasis or just because he didn't think she understood. It irritated her.

"I figured that part out, now if you could tell me what that is, that'd be real helpful."

Scofield shrugged. "Don't know. But you'd better find out pretty quick." He pushed back from the table and left before she could come up with a scathing response. She glared at his back instead.

"Jackass."

Kim was looking forward to sleeping in her own bed. The novelty of it still hadn't worn off. Maybe novelty wasn't the right word, but after a few nights in a hospital bed listening to hospital noises and smelling hospital smells she was damn well ready for the rest of her life in beds of her choosing. The comfortable scratchy covers and the sounds of the city outside her window.

Being able to wander around in her bra and panties. Or no bra and panties. And not having to worry about pervert doctors or nurses or other patients. Or anyone at all. That was definitely a plus.

She splashed cold water on her face to get rid of the sweat of the day, patted dry and stretched out before bed. Her evening ritual wasn't elaborate, but it had been a while since she'd been able to indulge. She didn't think too much about why she'd been hooked up to all those monitoring machines when she hadn't been that injured, or maybe even injured at all past the first day, all she thought about was how it cramped her evening style.

Time to put that style and herself to bed, anyway. If there was going to be more to the evening ritual, she could do it tomorrow.

She'd turned the light off and pulled the covers over her head when she heard it. Or felt it. Something not right about the state of her bedroom, something in the patterns of city light on the ceiling as it stippled through the dirty window. Maybe she couldn't identify what it was but she had been in this apartment for six years, ever since she'd taken the courier job, and she knew what it was and wasn't supposed to look like. Something was wrong. Or was it? She couldn't see anything in the apartment moving when it wasn't supposed to be. Or not moving when it was supposed to, although that only applied to the patterns of light on the wall from the advertisements and the occasional passing night courier. Nothing smelled of burning.

"God, maybe I'm just losing my mind," she muttered, pulling her pillow over her head. Maybe it was too much time spent in the hospital and being in her own room was strange.

Except when she went on vacation she didn't have this period of adjustment when she got back. She fell right asleep. It shouldn't be this bad just getting out of the hospital.

Kim threw the covers off after twenty or so minutes, when she couldn't identify the cause of her unease, and turned on the lights. All of the lights. No one was watching her from the sixteenth floor, right? and there weren't any buildings close enough to see anything. Except the rooftop of that old warehouse and factory, which she checked after she realized, with one hand on the light switch. No, no one over there to see her prancing around in her panties. Good.

And now she did do a thorough check of the apartment. Because she was paranoid now, she wanted to reassure herself that everything was all right, she'd just been attacked, post traumatic stress disorder. Scofield and all his little scare stories, or Brom and his worrying over nothing, the fact that she was working for some top-secret DARPA project. They had bugs in her room. Maybe literal bugs, these days they were attaching cameras and microphones to anything.

"If you guys are getting your rocks off spying on me in my panties, I am going to have your badges," she told the room at large. And then felt stupid, because not only was that a line straight out of a bad tv show, she was talking to an empty room. Thank god the walls were thick enough that, probably, no one heard.

She went to the fridge, as long as she was up. "This is stupid," she muttered, staring at the contents of her post-hospital-cleaned fridge. Grocery shopping was a definite must for tomorrow, nearly everything had started growing fuzz again and had to be thrown out. She poured herself a glass of orange juice, about the only thing that hadn't started to rot or ferment, and took a couple deep breaths.

Going to bed. Again. While ignoring that feeling that she was being watched by someone or something on a high floor that shouldn't have been physically possible and "will you quit it with the creepy feelings already?"

The rest of the orange juice splashed into the sink so hard it spattered over the edge. "It's just post-traumatic stress disorder," she told herself. "You were ambushed in what was supposed to be a safe place, it's just stress and nerves. It's nothing to worry about." Not that it was supposed to be a safe place. She knew how dangerous the streets could be at night. And not that it was nothing to worry about; all couriers got lectures on dealing with post-mugging trauma, panic attacks, mood swings. She should report this to her shrink, not that she was going to. She wanted to keep her job too damn much.

And it wasn't that bad, anyway. Just a feeling. Like she was being watched. But whoever was watching her wasn't doing anything.

Kim shook her head. There wasn't anything she could do about it if she couldn't find this phantom watcher, was there? Back to bed, back under the covers and pulling the pillow over her head and holding it there, keeping very still. Like when she was a child, if she kept very still and under the covers then the bad men couldn't get her, could they. She lied to herself now as she had then, counting to ten and then to ten again. Count to ten and then breathe. Count to ten and then breathe. Focus on listening as hard as she could to any sign that someone else was in the room, try to hear someone else's breathing. Or footsteps. Or anything. She didn't hear anything. She concentrated so hard that she forgot to concentrate on staying awake, and the next thing she knew the sunlight was pouring through her window and making her sweat like a pig under the covers, and it was time to start the day again.

She thought about bringing it up a few days later at lunch, between runs. She was working the job with Scofield for the rest of the week so that she didn't overstrain herself, but the shrink had given her a clean bill of health. Probably, she thought, by not telling the shrink that she thought she was being watched in her sixteenth floor apartment at night. But was it paranoia or was someone really out to get her? She had been mugged. And then visited by government agents.

"At least no one probed me," she muttered. To a predictable remark as a consequence, which she returned with a rude gesture and an even ruder joke about micro-organisms.

Scofield's eyebrows shot up. "Feeling feisty today? Makes a change." She'd been running short on sleep the past few days, and he didn't miss an opportunity to tell her that if she didn't keep up she was going to fall off the skyways one of these days. He was really starting to get on her nerves.

"If this is what you call feisty I'm surprised you made it here this long." Lame retort. Lame. She shook her head. "What do you want?"

"How about lunch?"

Kim's head jerked up again. That was Clayton, who didn't belong in here and "Didn't you have to work today?"

He shook his head. "Cleared out the building with a bomb threat. Turned out to be a false alarm, but they gave us the rest of the day since there isn't much we can do in the next two hours."

That's right. She'd forgotten how his schedule differed from hers; he'd taken an early morning shift so he could get his boy home from school after, or stop by the practices. Probably the better idea considering how late Lyle preferred to sleep in given half a chance. "So you came by to have lunch with me?"

"To talk about what you've been seeing through your windows at night." Scofield said through his burger.

Kim threw him a sharp look. "I didn't tell you I've been..."

"No, but I guessed. You're short on sleep, you keep looking at the windows and looking over your shoulder on the skyways when I'm tailing you. You're acting jumpy, like you're expecting to be watched. But you haven't told the shrink anything or you'd still be off duty. So what's going on?"

She opened her mouth and then decided she didn't know what she was going to say, so she stuck a handful of fries in it. Sighed, salt flecks puffing from her lips. She didn't want to tell Scofield a damn thing, but he had the weirdest way of implying that he knew things for all she knew he didn't actually know at all, and then there was Clayton. If he knew anything about what she was into, he'd worry. Worse, he might tell Lyle, who was darling with that crush but also overprotective. And he had the computer skills to bring down all kinds of unholy attention from the government.

Kim leaned forward. "All right. This does not leave this table, this room, this does not leave this immediate radius unless I say it does, okay?"

Clayton nodded. Scofield held up his hand. "Scout's honor."

"You weren't a boy scout, that means nothing. You're right, I do think I'm being followed. Or shadowed, or watched, or something, I don't know. I live on the sixteenth floor, there shouldn't be eyes outside my window unless they're on the old factory roof across the street. Which is possible, but I can't see anyone out there. They'd have to be wearing invisibility suits."

Scofield's eyebrows shot up. "If they were wearing invisibility suits, that'd mean you know something worth putting a few billion dollars' worth of technology and training in the field for. Learned any government secrets lately?"

"Funny, but no. I think it has something to do with what we're carrying."

Both of them stared at her now. For the first time, she thought, since she'd known him, Scofield looked uneasy. "What do you mean, what we're carrying?"

"I don't know specifics, it's just a feeling. But they were ... were pawing at me. Sniffing me. Like it was something I was wearing, some weird perfume or something. Only I haven't changed my shampoo, my soap, my laundry soap, anything in months. So it has to be something I've come into contact with recently, and the only ..."

"The samples." Scofield leaned back a little, flicked a piece of a fry at her. "You're talking about the samples."

Kim was about to tell him to take things seriously goddammit when she realized what he was doing. Making a face, she flicked a piece of her fry back at him. "Exactly."

Clayton was confused, but then he hadn't been in on the whole discussion about what she was carrying and the ridiculous demands they were making on the runners' balance. Scofield flicked his gaze at her friend and then shrugged. "I can't tell you what they are but I can tell you it's bigger than an envelope and narrower than a specimen jar." Which wasn't a description in and of itself, but between that and what he'd blurted out earlier Clayton looked like he could put two and two together. He frowned.

"You think something in the... in your work is giving you bad, uh, mojo?" Bad scent. Something like that, she didn't know of a better phrase for it.

"I think something is making me a target for whatever it was that mugged me, and yes, it was an it, not a who. They didn't..." she shook her head, mashing a couple of fries between her fingers. "They didn't act human. They didn't move like humans, they didn't ... attack me like humans. More like... dogs, maybe."

"Dogs." Scofield's tone was bland and unforgiving.

"Wild dogs. I don't know, okay? I just know something isn't right about this, something is... hinky."

Clayton snorted. "Something's been hinky about this from the day you started. We're not telling Lyle?"

"God no, we're not telling Lyle."