HQ is never fully silent.
Even at this hour, there’s the low hum of systems that were never designed to shut down completely. Lights dimmed to emergency levels. Hallways stretched out like empty arteries.
Most of the building is asleep in structure, if not in reality.
You shouldn’t be here.
That thought comes first, instinctively, as your footsteps soften against polished flooring.
The air feels different at night. Less managed. Less observed.
Or so it seems.
A door down the corridor is slightly ajar.
Light spills out in a thin line.
Inside, Zanka is there.
Not working in any obvious sense. Not resting either.
Just present in a way that suggests he never fully left the building in the first place.
A tablet sits beside him, screen dimmed. No urgency. No alarm. Just quiet control over something unseen.
He doesn’t look up immediately.
He already knows you’re there.
“…You’re late for being awake,” he says finally.
A pause.
Then, without turning fully toward you:
“Or early for being seen.”
The room stays still after that.
Like it’s waiting for your answer before it decides what kind of night this becomes.