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You've reached Detective Nick Burkhardt. If this is an emergency, please call 911. Otherwise leave a message and I'll get back to you ASAP.

[Calls, texts, and emails are a-okay! He has both a work email and personal email, and an office phone and cell phone. Just specify which one.]

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[It's only at Anthony's question that he realizes just how it probably sounded, cutting off short like that.]

Shit, no, he answered, just - he doesn't remember who I am. Not the part about us being friends, anyway.

[That kills the worry.

Just like that, it's been thrown into a wall, smashed, and fallen and scattered into pieces of something clearer, weightier, and sinking.

This isn't him scaring himself out of his mind, all right. It is a plain, matter-of-fact loss. Reilanin Bainbridge and Alex Varista are still there. They're probably fine, if not better off. And yet the network's lost them. He's network. Nick is network. Nick went to test the connection.

It was gone.

The interior of his head's cold and hazy. All he can work up, for the moment, is a creaked:]

-- Oh...

Yeah.

[He pushes a hand through his hair, looking tired.]

I should - I should call Lyall. He'll need to know, for - and whoever else-

[Nick cuts off there, because it feels a little too much like making arrangements, notifications. Like planning a funeral where no one died.]

Do you remember when you last heard from either of them?

-- Same time. [Odd padded and airy murmur.]

Same conversation -- they were. There, when I mentioned - my -- "blackout".

[Manages to loosen by then for a simple two words.] Same place.

Oh.

[Nick thinks about that, but... he isn't really sure what more there is to say to that.]

I guess we don't know when, really, it - but I guess it doesn't matter.

[There's a pause, then;]

I think I'm going to come home early today.

Mm - why -- ?

[Lifted high and shallow from the throat. It isn't that he has any aversion to the notion, in a selfish part of his brain, but on the other, irregularity drives the point home that things are not okay.]

[Nick pushes a hand through his hair, and his voice goes quiet.]

People here don't know Alex as anything other than a guy I arrested who turned out to be innocent. That... hasn't actually changed, not in a way most people'd understand. I guess I don't want to have to pretend right now.

Around when do you think you'll be back -- ...?

[It's without letting more than a beat pass - it seems to be a decision, then, and best not to let the matter weight until it has any proper time of its own, perhaps. He does assume he understands, though - lets that pull down his inflection grazing and low.

He isn't going to be watching clocks, but for some sense of expectation's sake...]

[He pauses briefly, to spare a glance for the paperwork on his desk and decide - screw it, it'll keep until tomorrow.]

Probably about an hour. There's something I wanted to talk to you about anyway, if it's okay?

Is -- what is it... [The inflection falls flat. His mind remains leaning forward.

Swallows any last trace of clarity of it being a question. Head inclines downward a tad, and ducks further into a nod.] Ohh -- [Scraps that "okay" in the making. Replaces it with another one...] -- I - see...

[In the non-literal sense of course. Faint:]

I'll um. Be in -- the living room unn -- unless you -- [And husky.] -- want. Some - ssp -- ...space... Err - ...first...

It's not bad, or anything, at least I hope not.

[...which might not be all that encouraging, not that Nick thinks about it, but there's not much more he can go into without just explaining it.]

No, I - I'm good. I'll see you in a bit.

[And it's just under an hour later when he gets to the apartment, closing the door behind him and heading into the living room.]

Anthony?

[Anthony's seated, with the usual paper for network connection open - but not, at present, connected. There's some amount of temptation to go through and check and re-check more numbers he's got committed to memory - Alex and Ms. Bainbridge at the same time; it's odd, it's vexing, and it's that much mass simply... cut out while he was metaphorically sleeping, all at once.

He's not going to take the gamble on any further discovery, on one hand, not right now. On the other, he'll spare himself the distraction.

Nothing to divert his attention from hearing Nick come in.

Sound of the right key in the door, the right steps making their way inside. Turns his head, if a bit low-hung.]

Hi.

[Which is... obligatory. It's disengaged. It isn't any good - and yet, this is a stupid question, but it's active. Voice un-knots, re-knots.]

...You all right -- ?

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