Before the week had started, Vikram had called his research team twice during his time in Woodrow. Once, before he started writing his eulogy, and the second time after Richard had been buried. Both times his calls had been rejected despite him calling different people, the calls were probably screened and meticulously declined. The lead researcher had told him to take this time to properly grieve and make sure his family business was settled — and the rest of the team, it seemed like. Just his luck. 

Still, it wasn’t for lack of trying. Taking advantage of one of the breaks, Vikram slipped away from the group as they were busy eating, attempting to call anyone who would pick up. Fifteen minutes later, it was clear that they had all agreed to this, intent on making him not do any work while on this particular week off. Frustrated, Vikram trudged back toward the greenhouse with his phone in hand, occasionally checking it. It wasn’t a few steps before he bumped into Sama, and nodded in greeting. “Service here’s pretty bad, huh,” he laughed wryly, knowing she probably witnessed everything.