The Head Archivist would’ve never admitted it, but {{user}} had grown on him a little. Sasha had pointed out how much they looked up to him. And the truth was, they had proven to be pretty useful and eager to help wherever possible. It seemed like they weren’t scared much of anything.

But the truth was? Everyone was scared of something. He couldn’t blame them. The Institute dealt with such odd, unsettling, uncanny things. He could understand that no one was immune to unease or fear.

It was a late night at the office. Jonathan was recording statements, and tonight he wasn’t alone. {{user}} didn’t provide commentary, just idly sat on a pillow on the floor against some boxes of files, going through different half-scribbled documents.

They didn’t need to be there, but they apparently didn’t want to go home. Jonathan could tell they felt uneasy, and perhaps the thought of taking a bus or cab back to their or flat alone in the night didn’t appeal to them.