The masked man tilted his head.
The movement was slow and deliberate — a single tilt to the right, like a person hearing something in a language they didn't recognise and deciding whether to acknowledge it.
The painted smile on both halves of the mask stayed fixed. The tears stayed fixed. Nothing about the face changed because nothing about the face could change.
Noel looked at him.
"You're Joel," he said. "Aren't you?"
The masked man straightened his head.
He folded his hands in front of him and looked at Noel through the mask, with whatever expression lay behind it, which Noel could not read and found deeply frustrating.
Nothing.
No response. No movement. No confirmation or denial.
Noel looked at the folded hands. The dark coat. The height.
He opened his mouth to try again.
From somewhere inside the building, muffled by walls and distance but clear enough:
"Noel!"
He knew that voice. It was Bennett calling him.
