The phone trembled as the woman held it in front of them. “See. Here’s his picture. Wait a sec.” She enlarged the image with a pinch of her fingers. “There. He’s about six feet. With a goatee. Brown. Brown hair with, like, a few grays in it. He was going gray, and it was bothering him, but I told him I liked it. It made him look more distinguished, you know?” Her voice cracked, and Time Bandit watched as tears welled up in the woman’s eyes. “Anyway. Did you see him? My husband? Was he there? He’s been missing for six weeks.”
  Time Bandit slowly shook her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t.” The woman’s crestfallen look broke her heart. “But like I’ve been telling everyone, I didn’t see anyone in particular. So many of the rooms were dark. People were asleep. None of us saw anyone.” Susan and Charge shook their heads. The woman’s lip quivered. “But maybe he was there and got out. I don’t know. Maybe he’s trying to make his way back to you.” The woman nodded, clutching her phone to her chest before walking away.
  Time Bandit sighed and picked at her cold fries. They sat in a booth tucked away in a corner of Annette’s Diner, but that didn’t stop people from approaching them. They all had pictures. Stories. Questions. Their eyes hopeful one minute and sorrowful the next when the answer was no.
  “Why do they keep asking us?” she asked.
  Susan took a sip of her coffee. “You. They’re asking you.”
  “Okay, but why?”
  “Because you’re a hero, baby. You saved me, remember?” Charge slipped his hand underneath the table and gave her leg an affectionate squeeze.
  “Yeah. I know that, but how do they know that?” She gestured around the room. Several people made nervous eye contact with her before looking away. Some whispered to their friends. Others fiddled with their phones. All seemed to be getting up the nerve to come over.
  Charge snorted. “These are deviants, baby. Something big happens, and word gets around. And you saving me was something really big.” He kissed her, and Time Bandit relished the sweet taste of his lips.
  “Fair enough. But why do we have to keep coming here?”
  “Because Annette’s is the only deviant-run diner on this side of LA,” Susan said. “And because we were hungry.” She polished off the rest of her burger.
  “We could’ve just stayed home,” Time Bandit muttered.
  Charge laughed. “And listen to you complain about our place again? No windows. No light. No sunshine. Too cold. Too—”
  “Okay. Okay. But I just meant—”
  “Can I get ya’ll anything else?” Annette tucked her pencil behind her ear and picked up Susan’s and Charge’s empty plates, balancing them on one arm.
  “No thanks,” Charge said. “Everything was great as usual.”
  “I don’t know about that. You barely touched your food, honey.”
  “Sorry, Annette. I’m just not that hungry.”
  Annette squinted her eyes. “Hm. Melancholy.”
  “What?”
  “Melancholy. That’s what I’m getting off you, girl. You’re down in the dumps. But you shouldn’t be. Nuh uh. See all these people in here?” She nodded to the bustling diner. “Admiration. Awe. Even a trickle of jealousy every now and then. That’s how they feel about you. You’re a hero, honey, and every deviant in here knows it.”
  “That’s not true.”
  “You doubting me? Because you know I’m the best empath around, and don’t let Lacey over in Santa Monica tell you otherwise.” She winked.
  “I just—”
  “Stop. You’re a hero. Accept it. You did a great thing for the community. You saved a lot of people. So many owe their lives to you.”
  “Maybe. But there are still so many questions.”
  “And you’ll find the answers.” With one hand, Annette took out their bill. It had a big X drawn on it. “This one’s on the house. You three just keep coming back here. You’re good for business.” She cleared their table and left.
  “Sweet. Gotta love a free lunch.” Susan started to get up from the table. “Let’s get back. Jonathan said he had some news about—”
  “Excuse me.” The man cleared his throat. “I-I’m sorry to interrupt, and I can tell you’re leaving, but I had to come over and . . . Well, I was wondering if you had any information about my sister.”Â
