You wait until you are away from the building before calling Dane. The delay is not strategy, not really; it is the need to hear your own footsteps before hearing his voice, proof that you still exist outside the fluorescent aquarium of the call centre. Outside, the air tastes like diesel and rain. A bus sighs past. Your phone feels heavier than its plastic should. He answers like he has been counting the minutes, like he knew you would call and pretended not to care until you did. You open your mouth and realise you do not know whether you are about to report progress or ask for permission to remain human. Wind picks at the collar of your jacket. Somewhere, a shop shutter rattles down, metal on metal, a sound too honest for metaphor. [[Dane Warning After Call|Hear Dane's warning]]