“It’s an Anna Sophia original.” He explains. It’s gorgeous and he insists she put it on straight away. She takes it back to her closet. It’s...a silly modesty that compels her to close the door. But when she sees him watching her, she stops. He is impassive, but she suddenly feels the pressure of his judgement. She knows she can close the door. No judgement. Everything is choices, right? But is it really her choice she’s making? Or is it the rules of civil society that were forced on her before. He gave a half-assed excuse for his absence and asked if I’d been home long. I thought about flat-out lying, but remembered that the kids did know when they came home. I told the truth. He seemed a but uncomfortable knowing I’d been at home while he was getting blown, but he recovered quickly. Before he could say anything, though, I hit him with my plans for tonight.“I’m actually on my way out,” I said.“At 9:45?”“There was a problem with today’s report at the office. Everything’s screwed up and. From my previous jumps I decided that the first number on the elevator arch represents the floor number, and the second number is the zone number of the carriage. All my observations indicate that the zones are simply numbered from the top of the pyramid on down. And on my 20th jump, the code on the elevator arch read 36:647. I could see I was adjacent to a perimeter room. So I hiked over and could not see another collar further down, and that fits with the high carriage number. Thirty-six. Giving us and excuse. At the moment, it seemed like a good idea, at least until later when maybe I'd actually come clean myself after things had settled down again. If they ever did. But before I could comment, Stacy continued."Well the way I see it mother ... you've been fucking my twin brother, which is bad enough. But then you admittedly state you've been fooling around with your own sister, and that it's not the first time either. Which I think is pretty fucking hypocritical of you, since.