13

You tell Marlowe yes. They smile—there's no doubt that it's genuine, no matter how they're feeling—and after a moment, they gesture for you to follow.

It doesn't take long to reach Marlowe's apartment. The dogs seem a little confused by what's going on, but accept it readily enough when Marlowe opens the door to let them inside.

"I think my roommate's out right now, but he should be back a little later," Marlowe tells you. "I'll just get the dogs settled, and then I'll make something to eat. I'm starving."

You head through the door after the dogs, and you find yourself in a cozy, warmly decorated apartment. In the living room just ahead of you there are brightly patterned pillows and throws wherever you look, and there doesn't seem to be a wall without at least one bookshelf on it.

Marlowe sets down two dog beds by the couch, and the dogs are quite happy to go right to them. With them satisfied, you head through to the kitchen, where you see the old bike Marlowe was riding a few days before—or at least, the remains of it—propped against the rear wall.

"My roommate keeps swearing he's going to get rid of that thing," Marlowe tells you, "but I kind of think he likes having it around. Not to ride—I wouldn't let him, anyway. He just likes having stuff to work on, even if he's never going to use it."

They laugh slightly, giving the bike an affectionate glance.

"To be honest, I think I'd be kind of sad if he got rid of it," they say. "I'm too used to having it around by now. Also—if it wasn't for that bike, I might not have met you."