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“And I’ll try to come back, too,” Ben said. “The timing is crap for my work schedule, so I might not be fully awake, but I’ll be here.”

“Thank you all,” Quincy said, feeling overwhelmed. There were scary people in the world, but so many good people, too. People who wanted to help him.

Feeling a little dazed, Quincy thanked everyone again and shook their hands.

Ben gave him one last hug, and Quincy squeezed as tight as he dared, the towel pressed between them.

“Any messages you want me to take to Evan?”

Quincy swallowed. He wanted to say I love you. He wanted Evan to know. But he hadn’t said it when they were together, so he maybe didn’t want Ben to say it for him the first time.

Especially if Evan still didn’t believe he was committed. Or able to make good decisions.

And he was a murderer now. What would Evan think?

“Tell him… I want him to get better,” Quincy hedged. That was also true.

Ben gave him an odd look. “Alright, Q. I’ll tell him.” Ben paused. “He misses you, too.”

Quincy nodded. “Thank you, Ben.”

“Anything you need, Q. I’ve got you. I’ll start getting some mods and replacement parts in for you as soon as I can. Anything you want, just tell me.”

Quincy knew how lucky he was.

It was the only thing that held him together in that little gray room as he waited. And waited.

And waited.

Chapter 15

Evan

Evan eyed the dismal building in front of him. The construction was poured concrete, and nothing had been done to relieve the endless rough gray. Even the handful of windows were small and grimy, as if the architect had been reluctant to provide the inhabitants with any source of joy.

Evan had never seen the city’s jail before, and he wished he wasn’t seeing it now.

But his first and only request after five days in the hospital had been to see Quincy. The doctors wouldn’t be pleased that he was up and walking around. And Rashid Pierce, Quincy’s lawyer, had coached him extensively on what he should and shouldn’t say during their meeting. It was going to be recorded and could be used as evidence in court.

The first thing Rashid had told him, explicitly, was that he did not want to know if Quincy and Evan had a romantic or sexual relationship. The jury should be selected to avoid anyone with a rabid anti-robot prejudice, but there were enough middle of the road Americans who were neutral about robots seeking work and living among them, but uncomfortable with the laws allowing human-robot marriage.

Evan had never hated humans so much.

So now he was going to be putting on a dog and pony show. But at least he’d be able to see Quincy.

Evan met Rashid near the door and shook his hand. He’d already been interviewed several times earlier by the spark and his partner. Today he was just here as support.

“Thanks for coming,” Evan told him.

“Of course. You remember our goals?”

Evan’s primary goal was to set eyes on Quincy. To assure himself, in the flesh, that Quincy was alright. But he also wanted Quincy out of this awful place, which meant he needed to trust Mr. Pierce. “Yes.”

Evan submitted himself to the indignity of an inspection—first a metal detector, then a pat-down. The guards rifled through the few carefully selected items he’d brought for Quincy.

They confiscated the untouched, clearly labeled, and completely sealed box of hot chocolate mix. Rashid was right. He should have bought scented lotion.

Evan had never known anyone who was in jail—and this wasn’t even prison. How horrible this must be for so many people and their families.