#grimrrarts

You experience just as little resistance as you duck through a cramped doorway into a long hall. This would be quite troublesome if he’d moved buildings at any point in the last few centuries, you think. 

More employees struggle to react to your presence. An intern slips through a door here, scrambles down another branch of the hallway there. One poor troll trips over himself and lands in your way. 

You step over him as if he isn’t there. Your gait hardly stretches to accommodate his presence. 

Why is this building so damn labyrinthine? 

You arrive at an elevator. Some poor employee timidly stands a few feet to your right, mustering up all the courage possibly within themself to speak. 

“…The—that elevator’s not for—“ 

You turn to look at them. They freeze mid-statement. 

“I have adequate security clearance to access this area. Your assistance is unnecessary.”

They aren’t quite sure how to respond to that, and instead back away before flitting off to presumably return to a ‘safer’ location. 

At least, you did have security clearance… at one point in time. Now may or may not still be that time, you think, as you regard the mechanism that seems to grant access to the elevator. 

Of course it’s got a digital display. Why wouldn’t it. When you were here last, it was a keypad. 

You reach out anyways, hoping that perhaps you could decipher what sort of input it desired and work from there. To your surprise, after only a short moment in contact with the device, it makes a polite pinging sound and the elevator opens. It must have been a biometric scan—but why you would be able to activate it is beyond you. 

Maybe you do still have security clearance. 

You duck again to enter the elevator and brush a hand over the wall to find the buttons. Oh, how polite—the numbers have braille labels in addition to their actual displays. It would be bothersome if you had to guess and check which one led to the basement. 

You can already hear the cacophony of his freak show before the doors open. More pressing, however, is the presence of the man behind the monstrosities himself. Xuange Xamidi, an old colleague of yours, had presumably heard the elevator doors opening, realized that he was not expecting visitors, and rushed to confront whatever security threat had paid a visit. You watch the color drain from his face in real time—you’ve even caught him in the flesh, it seems. 

“Wh—“

“Evening, Xue-Xue.”

You smile brightly. 

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I hope I haven’t caught you at a poor time.”

He struggles to formulate a response. 

“Drone caught your tongue? You look like you’ve seen a ghost, poor thing.”

You step out of the elevator so you can straighten up to your full height. It feels nice to be back somewhere with tall ceilings. 

“Zonari, you… How are you— you’re dead.”

“Oh, surely not. I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Well fucking clearly— why are you here? What— how many people saw you come down here?” 

“As many as there were between the front door and the elevator.”

Xuange stares at you with an expression triangulated somewhere between panic, confusion, and shocked horror, all partially masked by his ever-precent facade of cool professionalism. You hear his heart rate rise as he processes the amount of PR he’s going to have to worry about at some point in the near future. 

“Again. Why are you here.”

“Heaven forbid I want to catch up with an old flame. I just wanted to see what you’re—“

“In the middle of an afternoon on a workday?”

You laugh. You’ve always been fascinated with how much of a busybody he is. 

“Why not? You’re cute when you’re angry.”

“Don’t even start. You can’t just waltz back into my life after all this time—“

“Haven’t I? Just now.”

“I said don’t even start!”

You chuckle as you walk past him further into the lab. It’s been centuries since you last set foot in here. 

“Hey—! If you’re going to loiter, at least let me give you the tour of what’s moved around so you don’t get yourself mauled.”