"Yes," he says, eyeing her again, one eyebrow lifted. "Because no-one-was-tracking-it-before."

He said that before, she might remember.




But he took a seat on the bed again, hand lifted, hesitating. He set it down near her leg. Not on the ankle he'd considered.

"If you want to see her... that's not an issue," Sam says quietly, looking at her. Not hiding. "I'm not telling you no. But getting followed, getting interrupted. That needs to not happen."