[ Being left alone in their library residence gives Harold a kind of dissonance. He's been here for a couple weeks now, but it's not the same as seeing John occupying it in the present, asking whether they have groceries and automatically lapsing into making him dinner. They're even closer here in a strange domestic way than they were at home, and it makes him feel the loss a second time, a separate, finely-honed cut across the muscle of his heart.

Maybe they can have this here, maybe Etraya is a multidimensional exception to reality, but it doesn't feel real.

What self-control Harold finds in John's absence leaves him distant, more numb than calm. It's better than falling apart and having to explain himself, though, so Harold takes his seat and reminds himself that it would be uncouth and ungrateful to take any of his grief out on John. This John, especially. He thinks, We never got the chance to do this at home, and then, Being in the library again makes me feel like I'm dreaming, and finally, If this is a dream, it's a very painful one.

Instead, he shakes out his napkin. ] I've been working with Mr. Thistlespring on establishing a covert surveillance network around Etraya. His idea, if you can believe it.

[ Obviously Harold has had that idea many times, but never quite implemented it, cautious of making waves. With a long-standing resident backing him up, he's all in. ]