"'Allo, Zeeeeeph'r!" Mariluz trilled. "'Allo, Reginald!"

Zephyr went over to the receptionist's desk and leaned on the countertop. "Morning, Mariluz," he replied, grinning at her. "How are you?"

"I am good, t'ank you, Zeeeph'r. 'Ow is Reginald? He is all right? He looks much better."

"Yah, he's great. Back to normal." They both watched as Reg made a beeline to the stairwell and disappeared into it. If he were that eager to get back to work, Zephyr told himself, he must be fine. He resumed chatting with Mariluz, and then with Marsh when he walked in, and when Connor arrived he figured it was time to get coffee and get to work. He told Connor to meet him in his office and wandered over to the breakroom to make himself a big steaming cup.

He considered bringing some to Connor, but opted against it. He needed both hands to carry his own oversized mug - there was a reason he favored the two-handled model. When he arrived at his office, he saw Connor perched at the edge of the interview chair, leaning forward with a very concerned look on his face. Upon actually entering the room, Zephyr learned that Connor was doting over Reginald, who sat, as was his custom, precisely at the center of the sofa.

"What's going on?" Zephyr asked, bracing himself for more disturbing news.

Connor blinked at Zephyr nervously. "He, uh, he was coming into the office just ahead of me, from the other direction - from the back stairs - and he turned about six inches too soon and walked into the doorframe."

"Wonderful," Zephyr grumbled. He placed his coffee on his desk and collapsed in his chair, not yet ready to exert the energy it required to panic. He pulled the calendar up on his computer and checked it for the day's schedule. Maybe he could multitask: panic and work at the same time.

"And his lip is bleeding," Connor added. He grabbed a tissue from the box beside him and reached toward Reg's face with it. Reg dodged. "He won't let me help him."

"So leave him alone," Zephyr suggested. He peered at Reg and located the tiny spot of blood that had Connor so upset. "He's not gushing or anything. I'm sure he's fine." That was an outright lie, Zephyr knew. What was Reginald missing that could cause him to walk into walls? Was it his eyesight? His judgment? What could Zephyr do about it? Who could he turn to for help?

****

Reg was puzzled. He shouldn't have been getting lost in his own workplace. He asked the Other Voice why it hadn't known the wall was there.

We need new maps, it explained.

Reg wondered what was wrong with the maps he already had.

They're all damaged and corrupted and some of them are gone. We have to start over.

Reg wondered how long this would take.

I remapped Zephyr last night, except for his feet, which are the hardest parts. I mapped a lot of the house yesterday, too. Not all of it, but enough for now. 3 is all mapped. But this place has almost no mapping. We're going to have to remap just about all of it.

Reg wondered how to do that.

The easiest way is to dedicate your full attention to everything we need to map. If you don't, I'll recreate the maps using whatever information filters back here, but that takes a lot longer.

Reg thought he could do both. He had to work, but when he wasn't working, he could help remap his surroundings.

Careful not to burn ourself out, the Other Voice warned.

Reg wondered if the large young man sitting in front of him had been mapped. Reg didn't remember him, but he seemed somehow familiar. He asked the Other Voice whether it knew who the large young man was.

The Other Voice shuffled around in the back of Reg's mind before answering. I have nothing on him. His map was lost.

The man waved his hand very close to Reg's face with a tissue, so Reg moved his face away from it. The large young man moved his hand close to Reg's face again. Reg found this annoying. He grabbed the large young man's wrist so that the hand would be still. The tissue fell to the floor. The large young man's heartbeat echoed within him, and the Other Voice recorded it.

Reg looked at the hand in his grip. He wondered if he should make an effort to map it.

If we map other people, the Other Voice reminded him, they have better access to us. We don't mind Zephyr and 3 inside here, but do you really want to invite more people in?

Reg didn't want more people in his head. But he had a feeling that he needed to know who this large young man was. He wondered if it were possible to grant the large young man very limited access... just enough for Reg to recognize him if he ever appeared again.

I've given him a map. But if you want to give him more, touch him. Just not too much. If you touch him too much, I don't think I can erase the connections.

Reg looked at the hand in his grasp. Its fingers moved slightly and the tendons in the wrist stretched and tensed.

****

"Zephyr? He's got me." Connor gave Zephyr a pleading look and motioned toward his right wrist, which was hopelessly caught in Reg's famous iron grip.

Zephyr frowned at him and turned back to the schedule. "Hey, you insisted on poking at him. What did you expect?"

"I was trying to help him!" Connor whined. "His lip's bleeding!"

Zephyr typed a note into one of the calendar fields and turned back to Connor. "Look, there's only one thing you can do. Hold still and quit struggling and he'll eventually let you go."

"He'll... uh..." Connor appeared to be extremely disappointed.

"Is he cutting off your circulation?"

"Maybe. I don't think so. I mean, my hand isn't blue or anything... it's a little bit white."

"You'll be fine, then," Zephyr told him. "Just relax." He wished there were something more he could do, but he had enough experience to know that waiting was the best option. Trying to do something would likely only stress Reg out and make things worse. Zephyr himself didn't feel nearly as confident as he was trying to act... in fact, the need to panic was growing. Reg wasn't back to normal if he was walking into walls. Maybe he'd suffered brain damage or something. Maybe it was wrong to have waited the crisis out last week. Reg had obviously been suffering... it was stupid of him not to take that seriously. By ignoring it, Zephyr might have really screwed up, and why? Because he was scared? Maybe he did have a right to act like a child, but not if Reg suffered for it.

Connor sighed heavily and slouched forward. Zephyr kept one eye on him as he continued to fine-tune the schedule. Reginald reached out with his free hand and methodically touched each of Connor's fingertips in succession.

"What's he doing now?" Connor begged.

"I don't know."

Reginald touched the tip of Connor's thumb and let go. He withdrew both hands, wiped the spot of blood off his lip with the back of one, hand, and left. Zephyr decided to go downstairs a little bit later and try to have a conversation with him about it. If he still felt the need to be concerned afterward, he'd call the doctor.