Chrysalis Ch7: Suspicious Leads

With a satchel slung over his shoulder,  Lloyd swings open the door to his old room and is met by a wash of light pouring in from the windows. Squinting into the space, his antennae move to track a pair of errant dust motes as he steps inside.

It looks… empty now, all his things taken down off the walls and cleared from the shelves. His old nightstand is still there but the bed frame is different, sleek and low instead of the clunky wooden one he’d slept on most of his life. Tall lamps frame the corners of the room.  The walls are freshly painted over and new white trim lines the floor and doorway.

It’s strange.  It’s  the same space.  He has countless memories here.  Long nights huddled next to the night stand, reading through his favorite fantasy series or entomological encyclopedia. Time spent building his terrariums for his ant colony.  Rainy afternoons curled up at the window, watching the neighborhood children splash and play in the streets below.

So familiar, so many memories, but at the same time it’s completely different now.  It’s not really his space anymore.  Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t go back.

It isn't that he blames his parents for turning it into a guest room.  He moved out years ago.

But even so, he can’t help but feel a little down about it.

His mother steps in behind him and deposits a stack of blankets on the bed.  She begins arranging things for the two guests, laying out the second set of bedding on the floor next to the bed. Lloyd crosses his arms and distracts himself with one of the lamps. The awkwardness from their kitchen discussion is still fresh and neither of them can bring themselves to look at the other.   

A cheerfully aloof whistle comes from the door, distracting Lloyd from his sour mood. It’s his  father of course.  Mr Morgan never could read a room, not when he was busy with a project.  All his attention was focused on the task at hand; namely, pouring a generous line of salt across the threshold.  Finishing this, he stands back and surveys his work, nodding his satisfaction.  He turns and passes Lloyd on the way to the windows.

"Are you sure we should seal off everything?" Lloyd asks, smiling half-heartedly. "What if there's a fire?"

Mr Morgan jiggles the window locks, testing them one by one.  "How do we know you’re not immune to fire?" Lloyd's father replies jovially as he starts in on the salt.

“I’m not sure I’m up to testing that.” Lloyd’s says with the barest hint of a laugh.

“Oh no?”  Mr Morgan asks, Lloyd only half certain he’s joking.  “Well, I suppose it’s for the best.  I think your mother hid the matches.”  Mr Morgan stops and glances with deliberate mischief at his wife.   Her mind is elsewhere though, and he shrugs and continues with his work.

Lloyd Frowns over at his mother, Then retrieves Lyra’s scale out of his bag and holds it up to the light. It casts a faint glow through the message as the light filters through the smoky lens. Now that the writing has revealed itself, the scale feels less sturdy than it did initially.  The edges have started to flake away from his handling, and something in it feels spent or used up.  Still, he wants to see if there’s anything else he can glean from it… anything he can learn from the twisting letters…

The market is loathsome, but useful. 

Find work in that place and you'll have its protection.

What kind of protection?  Protection from Astraea?  Protection from the other vendors? How would he even find work there?  Who would possibly hire him?

He’s read over that line so many times it swims in his head, but he feels compelled to read it again.  Is there any other way to read it?  Is he missing something?  Some hint of a trap or indication NOT to follow its direction.

But there it was.

Find work in that place and you'll have its protection.

It was his best and only lead.

"Does that say what kind of fae you are?” His father asks, looking over Lloyd’s shoulder. “Selkie? Redcap? I'd say brownie, but we all know how you kept your room - ”

"Daniel." Lloyd's mother says, quietly but reproachfully. She snaps out a blanket over the bedding on the floor, letting it slowly drift into place.

"Oh come now  Sarah,  Don’t tell me you’re not also curious. Its not like we haven’t speculated about it before.”     His dad responds poking Mrs Morgan playfully.  Mrs Morgan shoos him away, but the tips of her ears go red with embarrassment at being called out in front of Lloyd.

Lloyd decides to ignore this, instead tucking the scale carefully back into his satchel.  "The scale doesn’t say anything about that.  It mentions other things: finding safety in the market.  Impressing some ‘king’ person.  Avoiding a bookkeeper.   Maybe she owed him money.”

He turns his hand over, looking over his black nails and for a moment remembering the jagged edged claws they once were.  “Seems she had a talent for making ‘friends’.”  Lloyd mutters.

Lloyd looks down in thought, mulling it over, before breathing out a sigh with a shrug.   “…as for what I am… I could make my guesses, but I can’t say for sure.   I’m hoping I can find out when I return to the Market.”

"If  you decide to go back to the market.”  Mrs. Morgan blurts out in a high, flustered voice.  Torn, she retreats  saying “S-sorry Love.   We can… we agreed we would talk about that after you’ve had a rest.   There’s no need to rush into anything. We’re all tired, and no one’s thinking clearly.”

She looks up at him with anxious hopefulness, only for him to look away.
“I just want to be sure.”   She reiterates, dissolving back into worry.

Lloyd shifts restlessly, speaking mostly to the wall. "Mum, I keep turning it over in my head, but…  she all but gave me the hotel's mailing address.  What else could she have meant?”

“I know.”  His mother responds heavily.   “I… I know.”   
She frets over the corners of the comforters.  

"I didn't say I wanted to go right now.”  Lloyd starts, looking her way as he tries to reassure her. “I don't want to go back.   But it’s possible that if I do,  I could get some answers.   About myself.  About how I can protect myself and protect you two.  One more variable that we can get control of.”  He emphasizes.

His mother looks up, some of the tension easing out of her.

"Why are we making up two beds?”  Mr Morgan interrupts.

Lloyd and his mother stop and look at him.  He’s crossed his arms and is staring at the second sleeping spot as if he’s only now realized what his wife has been doing.

“It’s for Lloyd, love.”  Mrs Morgan says, her own confusion meeting his.  “So Ian can take the bed.”

“Ian’s sleeping in here?”  Mr Morgan says, his confusion deepening.

“Why wouldn’t he?”  Lloyd asks, the hint of the reason starting to pull at him.

“Well you know.”  Mr Morgan continues, laughing nervously.  “Reasons.”

Lloyd stares at his father.

then clicks.

"Wha - Dad."  Lloyd starts, scandalized, wrapping his arms around himself. "I'm f-fine.”

“I’m just wondering why he has to sleep in this room.”  Mr Morgan says, gesturing to the bed.

“Where else is he going to sleep, the garage??”  Lloyd sputters.

“He could always take the couch in the foyer.”  Mr Morgan offers.

“Daniel, Lloyd wants him to sleep in here.” Lloyds mother interrupts, walking over to Lloyd.  She places her hand on his shoulder.  “So that’s where he’s going to sleep.  Lloyd is still our son.  And a grown adult.  He can make his own decisions.”

She ruffles Lloyd’s hair, careful to avoid disturbing the antennae.  He looks up at her, finally relieved to make eye contact with her again.  

“Besides,” she continues, “someone needs to be here in case he needs to get out.  You know, in case of a fire.  Now that you’ve seasoned all the exits.”

Mr Morgan stands gruffly for a moment, his chest puffing up.   Then he seems to pop, releasing all the air in a long drawn out sigh as he holds his hands up in defeat.  “Alright you win.  Make responsible decisions son.”

He gives Lloyd his usual aloof, tension breaking smile, but Lloyd doesn’t meet it. His eyes are on the floor.  His face pale.

“There’s nothing to be responsible about.”  Lloyd says out Loud as much to himself as his parents.  “Ian's into guys… as far as I can tell.  And even if he’s being respectful of who I am… I can’t fault him for feeling… differently about me now."

"Ian’s-”  Mr Morgan stammers, finally putting it together.

“OH." Mr. Morgan stammers, a sort of slow realization washing over him. He clears his throat. “I - ouch!”

Mrs. Morgan has just pinched him hard on the side. He rubs the back of his head apologetically.  “I gotcha.   Sorry… yeah, that’s a big oof.”

Mrs Morgan tucks in next to her husband and offers Lloyd a conciliatory expression.  "We’re sorry, Lloyd. Maybe with some time and research we can find a way to undo what… what that tree woman did to you."

"Yeah...maybe." Lloyd answers.

The thought's slippery. Like he can't focus too much on it. Or maybe he doesn't want to. Lloyd reaches up to pull himself up by the windowsill. "Sorry. This is probably all so weird for you. Did you - hzzt." Lloyd's fingers thump against the air over the line of salt, rebounding on the barrier. He gives his hand a shake, wincing.

Mr Morgan cruises over to him and takes him by the hand, looking it over.  “You alright?”  He says, looking it over.

“Never better.”   Lloyd offers, feeling suddenly very tired.

His father looks at him, then pulls him into a hug.   It surprises him for a moment, and then he sinks into it.   His dad gently rocking him.

“Don’t you worry.  Ian, your mother and I…  we'll get this sorted.

Just you wait and see."

“Thankf da”  Comes Lloyd’s muffled reply.   But he really did appreciate it.

The sound of knuckles on wood draws everyone’s attention, and Ian leans in through the doorway.  “Oy, not interruptin am I?”  He asks.

Mr Morgan smiles warmly at him, gesturing for him to come in.  “Not at all.  Make yourself cozy.  How did things go with the call to your mum?”

Ian steps carefully over the line of salt, pocketing his cell phone as he does.  "It’s worked out proper. Told Mum my friend is having a pinch of an emergency right now," Ian looks up in thought. "Not trying' to keep nothin’ from her exactly, but I withheld the... finer points for the moment.  She's a little spacey, but she'll make out alright."

Lloyd folds his hands, trying to imagine Ian explaining the ‘finer points’.  "Thanks again for doing this.”  He says apologetically.

Ian nods.  "Cheers. Ain’t nothin.  How’s all this going?" He looks around, grinning.  "Your old room innit?   Where are all the bug diagrams and such.”

Lloyd huffs, finally making eye contact. It’s familiar ground, at least. There’s something about that that’s comforting. "It's the guest room now. Prat."

Ian stares at him, raising a skeptical eyebrow. Lloyd drops his voice to a mumble.

"...that's all at my flat now."

"HA!" Ian barks out a laugh, his face cracking into an exuberant smile. "That's the Lloyd I know."

"You should have seen Lloyd's ant farm phase." Mr. Morgan interjects, chuckling. "You had to duck to get under some of the tubes. It went from here...." He gestures from one end of the room. "... to here." He crosses all the way to the other side.

Sure enough, there are still tiny hooks and eyelets screwed into the walls, remnants of makeshift scaffolding.

"DAD!" Lloyd yelps, waving his arms. It’s too late. Ian’s eyes light up gleefully.

"Do you have photos?"

"I'm this close to kicking you both out and keeping Lloyd to myself today." Mrs. Morgan interrupts, scooping Lloyd into her arms possessively.   He grins sideways, trying and failing to pull free.

“Mum, you’ve all had me plenty. I think for the moment the only thing I want is a pillow and a proper sleep.”

Lloyd looks back out the window, watching the pale sky, and sobers. “I... don't think anything's going to happen in broad daylight, but I...well, I want to get to bed as soon as possible.   It’s our best chance of not getting interrupted."

It was unlikely to happen so soon, but the thought of Neith slinking around the garden is enough to set him on edge.

Mrs. Morgan releases Lloyd and makes her way towards the doorway, grabbing hold of Mr Morgan and tugging him along behind her.  "Don't be afraid to ask for anything."  She says, pausing at the doorway as she carefully to step over the salt. "We'll be just down the hall if you need anything."

She stops and looks up, a worried smile crossing her face.  "Thank you for being okay." She whispers, then turns and leaves down the hall, their footsteps fading into the house.

“Because it’s your room, innit?” Ian folds his arms, looking down at Lloyd. “Or it was, anyway. The bed’s yours.  I’ve got the floor.”

“But you’re my guest.” Lloyd objects. “Meaning you should get the bed.

Hospitality rules, remember?”

They’ve been arguing like this since Lloyd returned from the bathroom.

He’d gone to release his wings from their bindings.   They would need a minute to recover from their crude bindings, and he had waited long enough.   Tenderly unwinding the sports bandage from around his torso, he began the process:  a slow ripple at first as they touched the open air, followed by a hesitant stretching and smoothing as they unfurled.

As his wings did their work, he took the opportunity to consider what pjs he would change into.  Both his mother and his father had left a pair out for him to choose from.

Lloyd never fit his father’s clothes in the past, but now he all but swam in them. The overlarge sleep shirt hung on his body like draped fabric,  the pajama pants ballooned out from his waist and swallowed up his feet.

Alternatively, his mother’s clothes fit him uncomfortably well.   The pants hugged the natural curvature of his hips, and the built in support of the camisole, while doing nothing to conceal his newly shapely chest, was comforting in how it held him.

Begrudgingly he made a compromise: his father’s pajama bottoms and his mother’s camisole.   Self conscious of his appearance, he held Ian’s hoodie bundled in his arms.   Truthfully, it was his wings that he was most self conscious of.   After all these years of keeping them concealed, not just from Ian but from everyone, it felt alien to leave them out like this in front of anyone new.

He hesitated before entering the room, wondering how Ian would react seeing him in all of his… self, again.    But his concern was interrupted when he found Ian  already picking out a ‘comfortable’ spot on the floor.  Something he had made specifically clear wasn’t an option before leaving to change in the first place.

“Just take it. It’s a hospitality thing.” Lloyd waves a hand. “That’s very important for fairies.”

“Yeah?   And so what if I refuse?  You gonna get hiccups or somethin’?”

lloyd puffs out his cheeks.

“If you don’t accept I’ll...

…get hives!”

Ian’s eyes narrow.

“Don’t take the piss about this. I know you’re making that up.”

Lloyd snickers, his antenna curling with mischief. “No, you don’t.  But if you want to read up on it before you go to sleep, in the bed, there’s probably a book or two in the -

wait Ian NO - “

It’s too late. Ian scoops him up into his arms and wings start buffering the air with fluttering panic.   Unceremoniously Ian drops him onto the bed. Lloyd bounces slightly on the mattress, blinking in ruffled indignation, as Ian settles onto the floor.

“Just toss something at me if you start itching.” He yawns, shifting smugly under the blanket and flipping through some text messages on his phone.

Lloyd crawls sulkily under the blankets until only his head is visible. He leans over the side of the bed, watching Ian flip through his phone, the pale glow reflecting on his face. Lloyd's antennae twitch.

"How does that thing still have any charge? You're always on it half the night."

"I keep it plugged in." Ian says, half-paying attention to the conversation. "Under the counter. It can't actually hold much of a charge, but I want it on in case I need it. Trouble at home or something."

He clicks it off, setting it aside. Lloyd rolls over, his wings flattening under him as he looks up at the ceiling. He can see faint marks in the paint, left from blobs of putty that had once held glow in the dark stars. Long gone, now.

"That's smart. You like to think ahead, don't you?"

Ian settles in and looks sidelong up to the bed.

"Just a way of being. Gotta keep on top of some things.”

There’s a silence that stretches on between the two boys, before Ian breaks it, his voice hesitant. “Speaking of… how... you feelin’?   Any bit tired?”

Lloyd rolls over again, his profile disappearing from Ian’s view.

"I've been awake for two days. Mostly.  Who wouldn’t be exhausted?"

“So a ‘no’ izzit.”

Lloyd blinks at the wall, not answering the question. His eyes wide and staring. The curtain's been pulled shut, but it's not enough to keep faint traceries of light from sneaking into the room.  The light creeps closer and closer to his bed. Lloyd huddles down beneath the blankets.

"What about you? Aren’t you tired?"

"This is my usual.   Third shifters, both of us." Ian admits, shrugging. "... but, you know. It's been a pretty wild night."

Lloyd closes his eyes and lets out a long sigh.

"Yeah. It has."

Moments later, he's rolled over for a third time, back to looking off the edge of the bed at Ian.

"You did buy enough salt, right? You and Dad?"

Ian reaches up and pulls at the comforter, tugging it playfully around Lloyd's shoulder.

"You should have seen the cashier's face when we rolled up." Ian starts, before catching sight of the worry in Lloyd’s eyes. Ian sobers.

"Yeah. We got enough. You're safe. Your dad about bought the entire supply. He’s looking out for you mate. Him an’ me both.  Trust me, I ain’t going to let anyone so much as look at you wrong."

Noises filter in through the window. Songbirds. Dogs barking. Passing cars.

Ordinary sounds.

Lloyd tugs for the comforter back, pulling it up over his shoulder again.

"Okay."   He gives Ian a wan smile, lifting his wings slightly.  "Sorry.  I'm keeping you up."

“Who’s to say, really?”  Ian replies, closing his eyes and folding his arms behind his head.

Lloyd settles back against the pillows, closing his eyes. Off in the distance, someone laughs.  A short, barking laugh.    He’s pretty sure it’s not Neith.   Neith didn’t laugh like that.   But it’s not like Neith would be walking around laughing in public like that.   She’d probably be sneaking silently through the streets, looking for a way in, or sending one of her serpents to slip through a crack in the foundation.   Maybe in the siding, or through one of the win-

Something strikes the window and Lloyd jerks, his heart in his throat.   The thing flutters frantically a moment, regaining itself before flying off in a new direction.   A bird.

Just a bird.

"Do you think they believe me?”  He asks Ian in a whisper.

“Mom and Dad.  About how bad this is?"

There's silence from the floor, before Ian shuffles and stands up.

“Alright.”  He says, standing a moment, then walking over and settling on the bed, about a foot or so away from Lloyd.  "... is this alright?"

Lloyd hesitates.   A flash of Astraea, sitting a foot or two away from him, flashes through his mind.  But only for a moment.

He nods, not saying a word. His wings emerge from under the blankets, settling on the comforter as Lloyd sits up, still holding Ian’s hoodie.  He clutches it like a child holding an oversized stuffed cat.  Ian settles near to Lloyd, tucking his right foot under his left thigh, and leans back.

"Lloyd, this is bad.   I think we all know it’s bad, yeah?    We’re gonna do our best… we’re taking it seriously.   Doin our best to keep spirits high but this is scary stuff.  Hard enough getting a PPO under normal circumstances."

Lloyd shakes his head quickly, holding up his hands.

“It’s just… I mean… I think you all know the danger.   We… have the salt for a reason.  The salt's good.  But…” Lloyd trails off, looking off into the middle distance lost for words.

“But it’s not solving anythin’,” Ian finishes the thought.  “Yeah?”

“Exactly!”  Lloyd interjects, finding the thought again,  “And the way Mum was talking...she says she wants to sleep on it, but I think she's already made up her mind. She’s trying to get me to stay here. She doesn't trust her."

He looks at the scale, lying on the end table. It's just possible for him to see the letters.

Ian shifts his weight a little, glancing over at the note.

"Well, alright. She doesn’t.  Do you?"

Lloyd snorts, pulling his legs up under the blankets and resting his chin on his knees.  "Everything I've read says it's stupid to trust the fae. Even when they tell the truth, there's always a catch. Some sort of trick or… unforeseen trouble.”

“But... the more I think about it..." His wings stir again.  "...I just can't understand what she'd get by putting me...us, I guess...in danger. Not after how far she went to get away.”  Lloyd goes quiet, hugging his knees to his chest. “I think I believe what she said about the market."

"So you think that's the right choice?” Ian asks. His tone is relaxed.  Reflective.

Lloyd cringes.  "...m...maybe? Yes? Yeah. I do. Or I think so anyway.  And just.. Knowing that…”  Lloyd says in a hurried flurry of words “...the longer I stay here, the closer they get. Not just to me. You and Mum and Dad, too.  When I could be GOING somewhere.  DOING something.   How can I wait if it puts all of you in danger? I can't do that, not if there's a better option.  Not to you guys.   You don’t deserve that.”

His words tumble over one another until coming to a halt, one final thought stumbling through. “I don’t think Mum’s going to see it that way, though."  He lowers his legs, looking anxiously at Ian. "What… what do you think?"

Ian snorts out a laugh. "I think we're going to the market."

Lloyd is taken aback by the simplicity of the response.  He was expecting more push back, or concern, or objection.    After all the talk of protecting and safety and being careful, it was odd to have Ian nonchalantly agree to such a dangerous plan.  Lloyd nods, a sick feeling twisting in his stomach. To be completely honest, it's not the answer he wants, but hearing it from someone else, it feels like a puzzle piece falling into place in his brain. Like there's no other option.

"So… when do we leave?" Ian asks.

"It's got to be before night - wait, we?"  Lloyd's wings flare in alarm. He shakes his head, his voice lowering to a frantic whisper.  "No. No. Absolutely not. Something tried to eat me. There's no way you're going there."

"There is no way I am NOT going there." Ian says matter-of-factly. "Not if that’s where yer goin.  If you get eaten, I get eaten. That simple innit."  He taps at the hoodie.  “Besides, I’m never getting this back if I let you walk out without me. Right?”

Lloyd looks away, not answering. Ian’s expression softens.

"Lloyd, do you know what it felt like when I found out you'd disappeared?"

That gets Lloyd’s attention. He looks up, antennae waving in alarm.

"That wasn't your fault, Ian. You tried to help. Okay?"

"Didn’t say it was, did I?" Ian’s voice has grown distant. Brittle, even, in a way that sends a chill through Lloyd. It hardly sounds like him at all. " I'm talking about how it felt after.”

Lloyd stirs, his hand lifting, then falling again as Ian keeps talking.

“Like...like I was so useless."

"You were just THERE and then you were GONE. Do you know how jarring that was?   The whole world continuing and me having to work just like you never existed.  You just - “

“Like who am I gonna tease about his dumb bug obsessions?”

Ian seems like he’s on the verge of tears.

“I was outside of it.   Outside of whatever happened to you.   A non player, and I hated that.  I don't want to feel that way again. I NEVER want to feel that way again. I don't want to be-”

Ian’s voice cuts out a moment.  He runs his hand over his face and banishes whatever seeds of tears were forming, breathing all his feelings out into a sigh.

“I can't imagine how it’s been for you, Lloyd. I'm not trying to say that it’s the same thing. But I can’t do that again."

Ian stands, then turns, towering over Lloyd.

“I won’t.  Even if that makes me selfish…

Even if you object.   I’m going with you.”

Lloyd looks quietly up at him. Completely still. There's something in that brittle voice. Something bruised and aching. It hurts to hear him like that.

"I don't think you're being selfish." Lloyd says, settling back on the bed. Trying not to wonder if his parents were going to feel anything like Ian did after finding out he’s left.

Again.

"Fine.”  Lloyd says with a sigh.  “We go together. We'll wait a little bit.  Until Mum and Dad are asleep. Then... we’ll go."

He slides out of bed, carefully getting to the floor. His eyes settle on the scale, bisected by a strip of light from the window.

“Help me find a pen and paper.  The least I can do is leave a note.”

+++

Ian stands at the end of the hallway, redressed in his street clothes, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He’s watching carefully as Lloyd tiptoes up to his parents’ closed door, a folded piece of paper in his hands, half-disappearing into the hoodie’s sleeves.

He crouches, preparing to leave it on the floor, then hesitates. He thinks about what Ian said.   About him just being gone, without a word.   Thinking about his parents finding the letter.   Imagines how they’ll feel.

The paper wavers in his hand, then he drops it.  Standing up, looking between it and the door. He raises his hand and knocks, his arm shaking.

The doorknob turns.

"Lloyd?"

His mother's standing in the doorway. Mr. Morgan’s behind her, rolling out of the bed. She gives Lloyd a look of sleepy confusion.

“I was just going to check the salt. Did you need - “

Her eyes wander to Ian and the bag he’s carrying, to the note Lloyd’s clutching. She draws in a horrified breath.

Lloyd’s heart leaps to his mouth. "Mum, I - "

“I didn’t think you were actually going to go.” She whispers, stepping back, her hand pressed to her mouth. Mr. Morgan sits up alarmingly quickly, crossing the room in three long strides. Lloyd shrinks into the hoodie, looking up at both of them. His throat aches.

“I have to.” He says, his voice unsteady. “I’m sorry. It’s the only way to fix this. You u-understand, right? She said - “

“How can you trust HER?”  Mrs. Morgan utters in a shuddering breath, her eyes shining and her voice cracking. “What if she’s lying? What if it’s a trick to make you more like her?”

Mr. Morgan hugs her, closing his eyes. Lloyd can see the slump in his shoulders. “Sara…”

“No. What if…” She coughs, wiping at her cheeks. “...w-what if the next time we see him...what if he’s allgone?”

“He won’t be. Because that’s still our child. The one we raised.” Mr. Morgan smiles sadly at Lloyd. “That’s right, isn’t it? No matter how many feelers you’ve got.”

Lloyd nods, swallowing past the lump in his throat. His mother hiccups and falls silent, holding on tightly to his father’s arm. Mr. Morgan takes an unsteady breath, looking out past Lloyd at Ian.

"Take care of him for us, would you? Try and keep…

keep his bug collection under control."

Ian nods gravely, adjusting his grip on the duffel bag. Lloyd steps a little closer, over the threshold.

“Dad...Mum, I’m…”

Mrs. Morgan slips free, crouching down to gather him up in a fierce hug. His father joins her, the two of them holding tight as he hugs back.

"Please...just tell us when you’re safe." She whispers. "As soon as you can."

Lloyd's eyes sting as he steps back, and he blinks rapidly.

"S-soon as I can. Just keep using the salt, and whatever you do, d-don't go out at night. Okay?"

"Safety first...?" She asks, readjusting her glasses. Lloyd coughs out a laugh, his face twisting into a smile.

"Not anymore."

He looks down at the crumpled note in his hand, thinking about Lyra and her scale.  Wondering what she'd been thinking when she left it.

Wondering if she had anyone she'd said goodbye to.

"But let's make it a close second."