I can't believe I'm actually doing this. Following Nol's words and making my way through the crowd at Luna when really I feel like crawling into bed and sleeping for about 24 hours. The air is thick with the scents of perfume and beer, and I can't see much of anything through the dim lighting. Well, it's not like I know what I'm looking for anyway. Maybe I'm just desperate for another sign that something about Nol is still OK, that she's still there, who she used to be.

I find an empty table in the back, sit down, and order a glass of wine that I don't feel like drinking. Now that I am sitting and my eyes are used to the dimness, I scan the place to see if I spot anyone from work. Luna is a popular spot with a lot of them. But tonight, every face is unfamiliar. Then my wine arrives, and I take a sip even though I'm still not feeling very inspired. My mind wanders back to Noll, and I shake my head. Nothing has changed. She probably had some kind of flashback to an assignment here, and that's why she came running over to me with what I now know was a ridiculous message. A message that only led to me sitting here with a drink instead of curling up so warm and comfortable in bed.

With that thought, I push my glass to the side, leave a few bills on the table, and start to make my way back into the fray. But before I get there, I see him. The guy who's been showing up in my dreams. I recognize him, but I still don't know who he is. I do know one thing though. Something that makes my heart beat double time. Right then and there it hits me, with a feeling of certainty rushing through my body: He is my key to the soulmate memory. It's there, somewhere within his mind, but I don't have access to it. Not yet.

Still, this closeness to the goal makes me shiver, and for a minute, I even forget that without an assignment from someone, the soulmate memory is useless to me. I'm too caught up in the excitement of the moment. The excitement of a step toward victory.

And now I take a real step closer to check him out. He's sitting at the bar drinking some sort of blue cocktail. In the crowd, he's alone. Like me. I watch him chat with the bartender, run a hand through his hair, order a second drink. And I don't move. Not an inch.

Maybe that's why I jump when a voice breaks into my reverie.

"I hear you made a decision."

I know it's Lyra before I turn around. And then I do, and I'm facing her, again struck by how much she resembles me.

"I though you'd left," I mumble.

"And I thought you respected deadlines." She crosses her arms, but a hint of a smile lights her eyes.

"Is it too late?" I ask. "I mean to take on this assignment, to find the soulmate memory and transmit it to James."

She shakes her head. "I don't think so. James needs this. Really, he does."

"But Rob – that assistant -- said you left," I repeat.

"He's an idiot." A spark of anger flashes through her eyes. "He thinks he can push me out, take over my position as James' most-trusted advisor. Never."

"So, it was a lie?"

She nods. "Yes. James and I were both away on business. It's as simple as that. He knows your success in this possible assignment is my success too."

"That's why he tried to push me away."

"Exactly."

Then she turns her attention away from me and toward my dream guy. Well, not dream guy in the usual sense.

"I was going to—" I begin, but she interrupts me.

"You should approach him."

And somehow, I know she's not talking about the usual bar approach. Lyra isn't referring to striking up a friendship, relationship, or one-night stand. She understands he's linked to this story, to my story.

"What do you know about him?" I ask.

"Probably less than you."

"But you know he's going to be part of my assignment."

"Of course. I understand the basics of what goes on in these situations."

I nod, and both of us continue watching him for what seems like a second and an eternity all at the same time.

"You understand the risks and implications of this assignment?" she finally asks.

"I do."

"All right then. I will leave you on your own."

She takes a step forward, but I reach out and hold her back.

"Wait... How do I find you, or reach you if—"

"Don't worry, Cassiopeia. We always can find you."

"Then why didn't you come after me the other night? When I skipped out on our meeting."

"You weren't ready," she says simply. "Now then, you will receive a contract from the usual automated address to your email. Return that to the same address as quickly as possible. And good luck."

Seconds later, she's gone, leaving only a hint of woodsy perfume in her wake.

The dream guy has finished his drink. He's looking around as if he's looking for someone. And then our eyes meet.