Kevan stared up at the red-brick house in front of him, rubbing the back of his head at the thoughts leaping out of it. He could just grab what he could and call it a day, but it would be a disservice to the limb-wracking journey he had to go through alone. Granted, he and Jocasta only split up at Heathrow. He landed in Dublin a few hours after, and had, since then, passed acres after acres of farmland, endless stretches of concrete roads, groves of roadside trees, and finally, the rows of brick houses.

He picked out the house number and which street it was the house was located, marveling at how orderly things were. Save for the number of parked cars lining the sidewalk, it was almost as if there weren't any residents around this time of the day. Threads of random thoughts flitted around in his head, telling him all sorts of things about the city, the country, and the world in general. He learned tons in minutes that would otherwise take him months within the limited bubble that was the Game and the strait-laced minds of his companions.

Soon, he pinpointed the house and had stood by the sidewalk for the last half an hour. Markel might have told Kevan he had problems with initiative, and this was one of the proofs to that observation. Only a single mind stayed inside the house, unaware of Kevan's presence.

The temptation to execute a probe and bounce away had never been greater. Why would he subject himself to more torture if he could just get what he wanted in a second? Then again, if he wrapped up here earlier than necessary, he'd spend more time wandering around in Mongolia where the rendezvous point was. At least here, he had a purpose for the visit. It was better than aimless roaming.

So, he lounged by the metal rails around the bushes with red-and-yellow flowers for at least an hour more. When he was certain he could form more coherent sentences towards a stranger, he stalked towards the porch and jammed a finger into the doorbell. A vexing alarm ripped through the whole house, alerting the woman who was inside. She thought about repotting the daisies in the backyard just this moment, and now, she was annoyed at who could be at the door.

The dark blue door swung inward, showing Kevan the rest of the living room. Quaint. Proper. It was a good house. "Yes?" the woman asked. She went by the name Laoise MacHale, corresponding to the name she provided in Primeva's database. "Can I help you?"

The thoughts on her head showed Kevan a picture of himself according to how the woman perceived him. She thought of him as a homeless, lost kid miles away from home. Well, she couldn't have been that accurate. Just that he didn't have a home, and he wasn't lost. He came here to talk to her, to get her to say out loud why she felt the need to give him to Shaw as a child.

"Can I come in?" he asked. "I'd like to talk to you about something."

Laoise frowned. "Do I know you?" she asked. "What are you doing here, miles away from here?"

"I live in Rathoath. It's not that far," Kevan answered. "I just need the truth from you."

He didn't need his ability to tell the woman thought Rathoath was, in fact, far from here. Laoise shook her head. "You should go home, lad," she said. The door started closing. "I bet your parents must be looking for you."

Truth be told, he was here, looking straight at her, and she was not looking for him. She was even throwing him out the street. "That is what I came here for," Kevan blurted before she could close the door completely. "Twelve years is a long time, so I apologize for not making it home sooner."

The woman froze, the door hanging suspended halfway its swing. Then, she whipped towards Kevan. "I don't know you," she said. "You must have mistaken me for someone else."

"Laoise MacHale, graduated from Flat Rock, moved to the city for university before finding a house here for work. You are affiliated with a certain Timothy Byrne for such a time—"

"I don't know what you are, so can you please move off my property before I call the police?" Laoise interjected. Real fear shone in her eyes, and her thoughts betrayed her suspicions in full. Perhaps, Kevan was too forward. He'd try again.

"Ma'am," he said after taking a deep breath to calm the hell out of his nerves. "I apologize for how I approached you. It is terrifying when a stranger comes out of nowhere and starts spouting facts about oneself. But that is exactly my point."

He leveled his gaze at the woman which might sound absurd to a random onlooker. A kid staring a grown woman down was not an everyday sight. "I am not a stranger, ma'am," he said. "I am that kid from twelve years ago, and I'd like to know what happened."

Realization clicked in Laoise's face. She disappeared inside, leaving the door open. Oh, she wanted him to follow her. Together, they stopped by a modest living room set, complete with a functional fireplace. In her mind, he glimpsed her daily routines and marveled at how...mundane they were. She gestured at the chaise, and he obediently sank into it.

"I'm still at a loss on how you found out about me after all these years, but if it's all you want me to give you, then I'll tell you," she said as she took the opposite chaise. A couple of white butterflies flitted by the bushes displayed outside the wide windows. Streams of sunlight burst in between the panes, dousing the room in its warmth.

Laoise folded one hand on top of another and laid them on her lap. "Tim and I cohabitated for a while, and well, one thing led to another. We had you," she said. "Shortly after that, Tim called things over, kicked me out of the flat, and left me without any support. He was once my whole life, so that bit felt a lot like betrayal. I hated him for doing that to me, and in my youth, with no money and no roof over my head, I did a foolish thing."

Getting her to talk about the memory only pushed it into clearer detail at the forefront of her mind. It was painful to look at, much more to personally be there and experience it themselves. For once, Kevan appreciated his ability. Words could be misconstrued, and actions could be choreographed to tell all sorts of lies, but the mind, down to the subconscious, was where truth resided unhindered. And things like this didn't need words for them to be truly told.

"You let those people take me?" Kevan prompted, and she nodded, her dry, strawberry blonde hair bobbing behind her ears. "What did they look like?" he asked next.

Laoise pursed her lips as she thought. The features of how they appeared in her memory flashed into Kevan's mind. "Tall men dressed in all black. Among them, a man with a monocle and a stark, pinstripe suit," she recalled. "They told me they could take care of you. I had full authority to refuse, but I just hated Tim so much that time that I ended up...well, hating you too."

Tears glistened in her eyes as she met Kevan's eyes. They were the perfect reflections of his. "I'm so sorry, lad," she said. "My last hope is that they took good care of you."

Quite the opposite, but the woman had enough guilt and heartache for a lifetime. Kevan smiled at Laoise. "They did," he replied. "I couldn't have asked for a better home."

An utter lie. It was a relief Laoise didn't have the same ability as him. Otherwise, she would have been able to tell immediately.

She knitted her eyebrows together. "Then what made you seek me out?" she said. A valid question. No one in their right mind would wonder about what was on the other side of the fence if their backyard had enough flowers. "Was it not good, after all? It's okay. You can tell me."

He couldn't. It was the last mercy he could give to the mother who never gave him any. "I just got curious," he said with a light shrug. The strap of the rucksack Jaq gave him dug against his muscles. "Think nothing of it."

"Does that mean you're not here to stay?" Laoise asked.

The hope curling around her tone and the synapses in her mind chilled Kevan's blood. Why would he want to waste away in this rural area after dropping in on a woman's peaceful life out of the blue? She had let go of him once. Should Primeva come knocking, who was to say she wouldn't give him away the second time?

"Curiosity is a road with many twists and turns, but sometimes, it can come to an end as well," Kevan answered. "I am glad you are alright and thriving. That will be all. No need to stand. I'll see myself out."

He strode towards the door and stepped out of the house. One last glance, he told himself. She followed his request, staying rooted on her pale pink chaise. She didn't move a muscle, didn't open her mouth to call him back. She did nothing, even though Kevan wished with all his might for her to do the opposite.