Skritch rolled out of his cot in the Irrelevance Fund shed a little after midnight. The teapot had finally stopped its usual midnight rattle. He sat up, rubbed his face, and decided the quiet felt wrong. A walk would fix it. He pulled on his boots, grabbed a small lantern, and stepped outside.
Raphael was already leaning against the crooked signpost, arms crossed. "Couldn't sleep either?" Skritch asked.
"Private nonsense hour ran long," Raphael said. "Figured I'd check the paths. You tagging along?"
"I was going anyway," Skritch grumbled. They started walking without deciding who led. The Zone's quieter paths wound between buildings and gardens, lit only by scattered lanterns and moonlight. They bickered lightly as they went.
"You're the one who stays up counting beans from old audits," Skritch said.
"You're the one who talks to tools," Raphael shot back. "At least my nonsense has rhythm."
