The Pigeon’s breakroom smelled like microwaved plastic and twenty-year-old gum on fifty-year-old table bottoms. It was, all things considered, not the worst smell in the world. Daresay even homey, though that just meant Karina spent far too much time in there for someone who had a job to do. 

Karina tapped her pen against the table as she nursed a slowly cooling cup of tea Winter had handed her before disappearing into the stacks. She was working. Working like Karina should be. And she was. Truly! In a manner of speaking. She definitely had a case file in front of her, and she was certainly holding a pen. So far she’d taken some scant notes, a few short and nondescript annotations in a margin or two. But for the most part, she just stared at the ever-blurring too-close words of the file, smelling the tea, gum, and plastic, and thinking.

Thinking about a lot of things. About the warmth of the bedsheets in the morning where Winter had been (she was an early riser, Karina had discovered). About the pilling wool of Winter’s sweaters (she let Karina steal them, which was good because they were absurdly comfortable). About the way that the corners of Winter’s eyes crinkled when she smiled (especially when she was smiling at Karina, for whom she had an odd sort of smile that Karina couldn’t help but return with a bubbling something in her stomach).

Or she was until Ningning stumbled into the breakroom.

That was an immediate red flag; Ningning never stumbled anywhere.

Karina scrambled to her feet. “Ningning? Are you alright?”

“Yeah unnie,” said Ningning waving her off and slumping into the chair adjacent to Karina. “Just passed some more of those worms on my way in.”

“They didn’t bite you did they?” Karina asked, sitting back down.

“No, no I’m fine. I mean, in hindsight I probably shouldn’t have worn these shoes to work with how many there have been recently.” Ningning gave a look at the soles of her shoes that was somewhere between distasteful and mourning. “They haven’t...they haven’t been bothering you and Winter, have they?”

Karina wrapped her fingers against the side of her mug. “Honestly, I think they’re all here. We haven’t seen any of them anywhere but the institute since Winter’s apartment.”

“I can’t tell if that’s a relief or not.”

“Me neither,” Karina admitted.

They were quiet for a beat. “How are you two doing unnie, by the way?”

“Fine, Ningning.” Karina paused, considering. “Well, not fine but as well as can be expected I suppose.”

Ningning reached across the table and touched the hand Karina had flat against the table tenderly. “Does the wormlessness help?” she asked, voice as gentle and soothing as she could make it without a laugh creeping in.

Karina couldn’t tell if she was joking but a snort bubbled out of her anyway. “Yes, Ningning, the wormlessness helps. As does Winter. She’s been…” Well, she'd been everything. To Karina, that is. It was hard to describe exactly how Winter helped beyond the obvious and the bone-deep certainly that without her, Karina would have spiraled a long time ago. But she hadn’t. Winter was there, there when Karina woke up in the morning with sleep rumpled hair and a cup of tea, there when Karina fell asleep at night with a quiet good night, Karina and a ghost of a smile, there in between with her laugh and her presence as steady as the ticking of a clock and—

Ningning cleared , and with a start, Karina realized she’d been staring silently into the middle distance looking fond and tracing circles around the lip of her mug for the past who knew how long. 

Ningning grinned. “She’s been…?”

“She’s been a real help,” Karina said lamely, face flush. 

“It’s good to see you two are doing alright then. Just unnies.. Comforting each other.” Ningning wiggled her eyebrows at Karina suggestively, though what exactly she was suggesting by it Karina didn’t bother trying to know.

Karina blinked at her. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know what you mean unnie,” said Ningning coyly, continuing to wiggle her eyebrows.

“With your face,” Karina clarified. As if that was the reason for Ningning's impishness: lack of understanding.

“It’s called smiling, unnie, some of us do it every now and then.”

“I know what—” Karina sighed, cutting herself off. When Ningning set her mind to being like this there was nothing you could do to get her to stop except get Giselle, and even that only worked half the time. “You’re wiggling your eyebrows.”

“Oh no. Am I?” asked Ningning, wiggling her eyebrows some more. Karina wondered where she got the brow stamina. “I hadn’t noticed unnie.”

“Ningning.”

“Yes, unnie?”

“Why are you wiggling your eyebrows?”

“Oh, no reason,” conceded Ningning, letting her poor brows rest. “Just...I’m glad you and Winter-unnie can be a comfort to each other in these trying times.”

“And why does that mean eyebrow wiggling?”

Ningning stole Karina’s mug and took a sip. She smacked her lips loudly, and Karina had to take a pause to remind herself that Ningning was her friend and it was very rude to hit your friends. “No reason. No reason.”

Karina leveled her with a piercing glare. “How have you been doing Ningning?”

Setting down Karina’s mug, Ningning sighed. “I’m not really sure,” she admitted, rubbing the back of her neck. “I—I’m getting worried. It’s starting to feel a little like the beginning of a zombie movie, you know?”

Karina shook her head. “I’m not sure that Park Sori and her worms count as that. She’s definitely not alive, but I wouldn’t call her a zombie.”

“I guess not. Figures. I would be an excellent zombie movie protagonist though.”

Karina took a sip of lukewarm tea. “Lord.”

“Don’t roll your eyes, unnie, you know I would. My witty one-liners and gorgeous face? Perfect for a zombie movie. I’d just need some strategically ripped clothes and a cool-looking weapon and I’ve got myself a franchise.”

“Ningning.”

“You all would be my equally gorgeous supporting cast,” she continued, ignoring Karina. “No one quite sure who is going to be the one to end up with our intrepid female lead.” 

“I’m going to leave, Ningning.”

“Vicious ship wars would be fought over us!” crowed Ningning, fully on a roll now. “So much left unresolved movie after movie!”

Karina rolled her eyes and began collecting her things. “I’m leaving.”

“No, no, I can see it now. Attack on Wormbies!”

“Good-bye, Ningning,” said Karina curtly, not even bothering to linger at the door.

“You’re just mad because you know I’m right unnie!” Ningning called after her, and Karina resisted the urge to roll her eyes a third time.

It was late. 

There were no windows in The Pigeon to tell her this, but she could feel fatigue pulling at her like she had weights on every limb. But that was fine. Fatigue was an old friend by this point. And besides, she had filing to do.

A box, dirty and slightly damp at the corner. From the early 2000s, but Giselle insisted that there was a misfiled report from the 2010s in there so Karina was wading through it, fingers curling with distaste every time they brushed the wet spot. If there really was a case in there, Karina had yet to find it. She’d been going through the box for what felt like a lifetime. And she’d only been distracted reading a case twice, though in her defense the reports had been on spiders and books, and Karina couldn’t just ignore them. But spiders and books aside, it really did seem like the box was properly filed. A first, and something that should probably have warranted a celebration as The Pigeon’s first, but it just meant she’d touched that awful damp patch for nothing.

Sighing, Karina moved on to the next box. It was far lighter than Karina had expected, and the weight distribution was odd. So odd, in fact, that when Karina went to pick it up she nearly tossed it over her head like she was a ty shot put player. Setting the box down on the table, Karina lifted the lid to reveal a fire extinguisher haphazardly shoved inside.

Karina leaned in closer to the box like it was the distance from it that was making her think that the paper account of liars and druggies was actually a fire extinguisher. She adjusted her glasses and frowned. “What in God’s name…”

Winter smacked the door to the storage room with her palm twice to get Karina’s attention. They didn’t knock anymore, not after Karina had absent-mindedly knocked on the bathroom door of her apartment and gave Winter a panic attack. “Unnie?” she called, leaning her head through the doorframe. “Are you ready to head ho—head back to your apartment?”

“Yes, in just a minute, I...I found a fire extinguisher in here.”

Karina wasn’t sure exactly how she expected Winter to react to that—laughing maybe, or asking in a kind voice just how long Karina had been working—but glancing around conspiratorially and quickly closing the distance between them was definitely not it. Neither was a terrified expression crossing her face or her whispering, “Keep your voice down!”

Karina did as she was bid, but that did nothing to damper her confusion. “What?”

“About the…” Winter trailed off and nodded to the box. “You know.”

“Why?”

“So the worms don’t find out,” mumbled Winter, going red.

Karina’s mouth hung open. “What?”

“So the worms don’t find out about it,” Winter repeated, louder this time.

“Winter—”

“Look,” interrupted Winter, clearly intent on getting out whatever she needed to get out no matter how red she became in the process. “I know it’s stupid but I’ve been hiding some gas around The Pigeon. I know Giselle already had some put in, but there aren’t that many and they’re all in really obvious places, and so I thought if there were some in places the worms didn’t know about...I don’t know. Like I said, it’s stupid.”

“I mean, a little bit,” admitted Karina, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “I’m not sure the worms can strategize. I mean, I hope not. But it’s better safe than sorry, and it’s not like more gas can hurt.”

Winter looked down, cheeks the same color as the fire extinguisher. “I guess.”

Karina surveyed the boxes surrounding her. There were dozens, and she knew that she could make a sizable dent if she really wanted to. And there were more boxes on her desk too, just waiting for her to go through, more stories for her to read, more mysteries to unravel. And then she looked at Winter, at her partner, her roommate, her friend. And she knew where she was needed.

Karina put the lid back on the fire extinguisher box. “I’m done here,” she announced. “Ready to go?”

Winter gaped at her. “R—really? Not that I’m complaining but—”

“Yes, Winter,” sighed Karina, leaving the storage room to get her stuff from her desk, Winter following closely at her heels. “It’ll all be here tomorrow. I’m sure I can manage not doing work for one night.”

“Oh, can you now?” Winter asked, cocking her head in that puppy-dog way she did and giving Karina an absurdly smug grin for a woman that had just admitted to hiding fire extinguishers in old document boxes. “Because I distinctly remember last week Giselle having to order you out of The Pigeon because you wouldn’t leave.”

“That was different,” sniffed Karina, shrugging on her coat.

“Was it?”

“Yes,” Karina snapped. “I was…I was looking for information on Park Sori.” Obsessively looking for information on Park Sori. Feverishly tearing The Pigeon apart looking for information on Park Sori. How could she not? She felt the way Winter curled into herself from the nightmares. And she had nightmares of her own. Between the two of them, they hardly slept, and they dreamed of enough worms to bury the world under a thick downy blanket of them. 

But she’d found something though. She’d found a report from Park Sori herself, and the night she said she hadn’t slept a wink because every time she closed her eyes she could feel an itching under her skin and hear an uncomfortably familiar tune ringing in her ears. But it had been worth it. It had. If she told herself that enough she almost believed it. It always helped to know. 

She’d been telling herself that a lot too, recently.

Winter rested a hand on her shoulder, and Karina let out a shuddering breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been letting swell up in her chest. “And now?”

“Just more on those delivery men,” she said, shouldering her bag. “Kwangsoo and Sooman?”

“I know the ones. They delivered that coffin, right?”

Karina nodded and started for the exit. “Among other things.”

“I thought we moved on from the coffin months ago,” said Winter, holding open the door.

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