[illusions have their tactical value. janus knows that as much as the next highly-trained and proficient murderer for a righteous cause, currently on an apocalypse-related vacation from their normal life. they throw the first basketball, their long hands moving elegantly as reeds shifting in the wind. the ball, filled with air and the thinnest rubber, skims lightly off the tips of their fingers. sails high--

--and drops neatly into the topmost hole. the score above the booth immediately lights up with a neat number.] I've met Rosie. Just like our nurse, I remember, but neither that nor married anymore, [they say, as noncommittally as possible. ezekiel had always seen other people, beloved by many of his lovers at a range of ages and across various species, but it's strange for janus to talk about because they were never quite like that when they knew him. eight years ago, they'd gone out on a few dates, but only ever put out for two men. one had broken their heart, and they'd broken zeke's.

but it's not just a diversion, when they pause, then ask:] Do you think the soul of her is the same?

Not just her face, but what her heart is like. What her face looks like when she's sad, and how to make her laugh. You know.