[ His back has been sore for a while, he's just been ignoring it. Staying the course. Shifting has called it vividly to the forefront of his mind, so a break isn't a terrible idea. He reclines in his chair, stretching his neck. ]

It's a different application of the ear. The device you helped me market. [ And a lot more than that. ] But this would be geared towards EEG readings. Brain activity.

Electroencephalogram. [ he offers, then checks his watch. The early evening hour takes him aback. Hap pulls his glasses off and sets them down, then pushes out from the desk. ]

You like tea?

At this hour, should probably be herbal. [ he laments. Hap loves his caffeine. Tea just scratches the ritual itch when it's too late for coffee to be sensible. ]

[ He chuckles as he nears her, the kettle resting on the counter behind her. ]

That's... very accurate.

[ Catching that, he pauses. ]

Go ahead. [ It's just a simple electric kettle with five different temperature settings, four of which he rarely uses.

He goes to the cupboard where he keeps the coffee and digs out a box of bagged tea, a mundane brand he can easily get his hands on. While he's out, he'll pick up more expensive loose leaf, but that doesn't always occur to him. ]

[ The sound of water running, then the click of the kettle fitting onto its base, fill him like a breath of fresh air. Suppressing a smile, he pulls out two packets of Earl Grey flavored rooibos.

Tearing one open and then the other, he cocks an eyebrow at her question. That's a feature that could have potential for his purposes. He'll have to think on that, perhaps shuffle some priorities around. ]

This would be purely visual, but that's an interesting idea. [ He lowers a teabag into each of the mugs in her hands. ] Listening to someone's thoughts.

There's been research into it. It's a nascent area of study but they're not coming up empty-handed, from what I understand.

[ Lying isn't something he typically has to worry about with his subjects. The gas alleviates both him and the subjects of that as a factor. ]

[ He's sure she's right about the cops as a target audience. But then he'd have to talk to cops. Putting aside his sordid obsession, he's never met one that wasn't dull at best and a boorish thug at worst. He'd just as soon fly to Silicone Valley and clamber through a lobby disguised as a soft play area to pitch a patent to a boardroom of insufferable millennials. ]

Go back to the beginning. [ Hap's come so far since then. He hasn't cast an eye to the past in years. It's an idea that's not without value. ]

[ Hap mirrors her, placing his hand on the counter and shifting his weight to it. ]

I was working in the emergency room as an anesthesiologist. I had a patient come in from a crash. It was touch and go, and he went, and I heard it. This — [ his open hand sweeps out ] "whoosh," but it didn't come from his mouth. I wasn't even sure. Doctors think they hear things like that all the time.

But we got him back. Defib. And that second time, I knew. I knew it was real. Him. His consciousness, or will, soul, his essence, whatever you want to call it. It left and it came back.

[ He chuckles, engaged and animated. ]

It is, but when you're in it every night, the din is a... a familiar blanket. Every noise a thread.

That sound pierced [ his fingers slice the air ] right through it.

[ Briefly, he too sees the Bella he knew before. His words aren't battling a barricade of fear and incredulity. She's really listening this time.

But the Bella from before isn't the same as the real Bella. Hap frankly doesn't know if he's even met her yet. Listening is a finely honed skill for both a sex worker and a captive, but the reality of that settles in differently. Less harmlessly. It pricks him when she lifts the kettle from its base. ]

That guy, I don't know. I was just sure he went somewhere. The tricky thing is, everyone is different.

[ While it's true that experiences vary — some are calm and peaceful, others frantic and frightening — Hap doesn't like to ascribe elements of reward and punishment to them. He hasn't found consistent causal links to the lives subjects have lived. ]

Our own other sides.

[ He reaches for his mug, his thumb incidentally brushing hers in the handover. ]

[ Hap's gaze drops to his tea and he shakes his head with a touch of regret. ]

I don't. [ He doesn't have what they have. Natural insight. (Divine power.) He likes to think there is something special about him for having heard that unearthly sound in the first place. His gift is to be the instrument that taps the subjects' source. His burden is to do what has to be done.

With a chagrined smile, he looks at her again. ] And I can't.

[ They need him. She needs him. ]