Fish was quiet. He wiped his face on his shirt and ran a hand through his hair. "Thanks," he said quietly to Quinn. Then he got up, took his trident back, and headed over to the receptionist. He nodded numbly through form after form, signing and initialing blindly wherever she indicated, trying to keep up with Quinn's artificial backstory.

And then it was over. The last form was signed. He turned around and walked numbly out the door.

He didn't want to go home just yet, didn't want to go back to the apartment and crawl into a bed that still smelled like Dwayne.

He didn't know where he might find Persy. Perhaps if he wandered the dark streets long enough she'd turn up.

It was a stupid idea.

He didn't want to go home.