DAY TWENTYFOUR 10:43AM

Samsara 

Pretty George sighed. "Honestly Suki..." 

Suki took a sip from the tea. "I figured your place would be more cluttered." She looked around at the small apartment. Dust in the corners, stains on the floor. A fly buzzing in the kitchenette. She had sent the reverend and her sidekick out for sandwiches; Pretty looked like he could use a meal.

He sighed again. "You're trying to change the subject." 

Suki looked squarely at him. "It's a reflex I have when I feel I'm about to be disappointed."

Pretty held her gaze. She looked good, she looked healthy. She had always seemed so aloof, cold even, when she was young. Initiated so early. The edge was still there, maybe even sharpened, but it was sheathed in something a little softer now. He had no idea where Suki had been all these years, but it seemed to agree with her. 

"Why are you back?" he asked her.

"Now you're changing the subject." 

"You haven't been in the game for a while now. I can tell. You look too happy."

"I was happy when I was playing too," Suki said, perhaps a little defensively. 

"That feeling you felt, that wasn't happiness and you know it. That rush, that charge. Purpose, yeah. Power, yeah. Strangeness, definitely. Mana maybe. But it wasn't happiness."

"Meeting Max was the best thing that ever happened to me," Suki said. 

"Me too," Pretty said. "And the worst."

They each took a sip of their tea. Pretty listened to the sound of the buzzing. Suki glanced about the dingy room. Things felt heavy. 

"Fine," Pretty said. "I'll get it for you."