There are good things, and there are bad things.

There are more good things than bad things. I try to focus on those.

One, the lab burned down.

Two, the staff are under arrest.

Three, Mr. Toe, aka Pavlov, is dead. His throat was cut by a frost spirit, they say.

Four, the production of the real vaccine has started.

Five, number 9, 38, and 124 weren't my lambs.

It was a hard decision to make. The determining factor was that Mint's army is so fucking huge. I can't imagine all of the survivors being my lambs. That would mean the net headcount of the entire army minus three, which is too big of a flock, even for me.

I know that the death of number 9, 38, and 124 was my fault, no matter what everyone else says. They are dead because I messed up my calculations. But they weren't committed to my care.

These are the good things.

The bad thing is a conversation I must face. I've been avoiding everyone, claiming a meltdown, but I can't delay it any longer. Mint is so worried he can't sleep or eat. He probably thinks that losing those three men is incompatible with my existence, and I decease spontaneously while he looks the other way.

Like the unpredictable lunatic I am.

Well, I have to tell him that he can stop worrying about me. And the same goes for everyone else. It's not their business anymore.

Mint's headquarters is unusually silent. I wonder what everyone's doing.

When I come out of the room, I get my answer. They all are there, sitting in the hall, in solemn silence, as if they were at a wake. Everyone, even Jorge and Frank, guarding my door, sharing my pain.

Doing exactly what I suspected. They collectively worry for me.

It seems like an epidemic. Everyone I contact ends up worrying like I'm contagious. My neurological problems seem to affect other people's nerves, too. That's what I do to people.

Mint's the first to notice me. He springs to his feet and tries to hug me. I take a step back. He steps back, too, wringing his hands.

Okay. Here we go.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"Yes. You were right. They weren't my lambs, indeed."

Duke stands up, too.

"So, what now? Will we celebrate?"

"Sorry, Duke," I answer. "I can't. I need to start packing."

"Why?" Nicole asks.

"I'm leaving."

They burst into buzzing like a beehive. And they have so many questions. Why? Where? When?

Except for Mint. He doesn't have any.

"Everything turned out well," I explain to them. "The world is saved. I did what I had to, but my identity got compromised. I have to go and start a new life, again."

"May I go with you?"

Okay, so Mint has a question, too. This one.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Why yes?"

Everyone seems to be taken aback by my question, except for Mint.

"Explain," he says.

It's a tone I appreciate.

"The default setting is no," I tell him. "I don't need a reason to not be with someone. No one does. So there should be a 51% shift from zero point at least, in order to consider the question as a substantial one."

He nods.

"Okay. Here's one reason. You'll need someone to protect you."

"Why would I? Because I'm not able to—"

"No. I told you already. There's no one I know who'd be more able than you."

"Why, then?"

"It's not safe for such a small woman to walk around alone," he answers.

"The only serious danger I've ever was faced since leaving the Agency was you."

One down. Two more to go.

He takes a deep breath and comes up with a new item on my list.

"Okay. Then you might consider to keep me for sex."

I stare at him. That's absolutely not what he should have said, according to my calculations. He should talk about feelings, and I should tell him that it's only his imprinting talking and he doesn't want me, only Gabriel. And that he knows nothing about me, my real self, and it's better to leave it at that. But he didn't even try to go in that direction.

"For sex only," he goes on. "Nothing else. You don't have to live with me. Just call me whenever you need me."

I feel a pang of guilt. He underrates himself so much. He jumped to the bottom of the list without trying to settle for a less humiliating option than being a callboy.

That's the other thing I do to people.

And I can't make it better. I can only make it worse, so it's for the best if we finish this quickly, without wasting time with the other possible elements on the list. It wouldn't make any difference in the outcome, anyway.

"No," I state.

"But you liked to sleep with me."

"You forced me to sleep with you, Mint."

"I didn't," he protests, gasping for air.

Okay, just a few more sentences, and I can leave, finally.

"I said no," I point out. "Three times."

"But—"

"I asked you to stop. Remember?"

Nicole stares at us with her mouth agape. Jorge furrows his brow. Duke shakes his head. They'd probably have many things to say, but they must know by now that if Mint can't convince me, no one can.

"I do," Mint admits. "And I'm so sorry. I never wanted to do to you anything that you didn't want me to do. But during the long time we spent together, there were several other occasions when it was you who did things to me."

"I spent that long time with you because you kidnapped me, Mint. Did I have a choice?"

"You did," he says, crossing his arms over his chest. But, somehow, it doesn't look like a classic authoritative pose. It seems like he's hugging himself. "You did, and you know it. And you also said things to me. You said—"

"I only said what needed to be said, Mint. I can't believe you forgot it again. I always say what needs to be said. Always. I warned you about this, didn't I?"

He closes his eyes for a second, but I can't stop. I need to finish this.

"Everything I ever said, I said to move the world's events towards the best outcome possible and my endgame goal, which showed a 92% correlation to the endgame goal of the world's population, in total."

He hugs himself even tighter, and he's rocking slightly, just the way I do when I'm upset.

"I told you exactly what was needed to be told, to be here today, where we are. To reach this point in time and space, where we are standing at the moment, in safety. Nothing more, nothing less."

Mint purses his lips into a thin line. He does nothing else, yet, I know that he reached his breaking point. All those tests weren't run in vain. Now I notice it without fail, and I find it scientifically interesting.

That's the third thing I do to people.

I turn my back on Mint and everyone else, and I walk to the door.

"Goodbye," I say, without looking back.