“I didn’t check out.” Gideon’s brow furrows. “These… these guys came.” He scrubs a hand over his face. “They said they were transferring me to a new facility. Had paperwork and everything. I figured you’d arranged it or something, I dunno, but you weren’t answering your phone and they were really insistent, so I went with them.”
I feel sick. “Gid… I didn’t arrange anything.”
“Yeah, well, I figured that out when they brought me here instead of another treatment center.” He flops a hand at the bland apartment around us. “They’ve been… fine, I guess? Brought me food, let me shower, had some clean clothes and stuff. But nobody would tell me anything.”
His gaze slides past me to where Kir stands in the doorway, face carefully pointed away from us, hands still in his pockets.
“They said you’
