I wrote Graham his first report on the morning after the wedding, one dull sentence on the back of a receipt, *Alexander gave me his archive credential last night, and the door log will show it anyway*, and I photographed it for Priya before I sent a single letter of it.
She answered within a minute with one word, *boring*, which was the highest praise she gave.
Alexander and I rode the service lift down together, with the black cord around my neck and his steel key in his pocket, and neither of us spoke about the knock on my door, because there was nothing to say about it that would not have been either too much or not enough.
Lenny rose from his desk in the alcove when the doors opened, and he looked at the two of us, and at the cord, and his moustache lifted at one corner.
"Congratu
