"Do you have protocols for everything?"
"Yes," he said. "It helps eliminate risks."
I decided to push my luck. "Is that why you don't have a name?"
"It's because Father believes in eliminating the unnecessary." He sounded almost annoyed, which I took as a win. "Names give you history. History gives you weakness."
I rolled this around in my mind. "I suppose numbers give you anonymity. You can be anyone. Or no one at all."
"That's the point."
I chewed the inside of my cheek, staring at the quiet city outside my window. "What would you pick, if you could? Like, if you could choose your own name?"
He didn't answer. Not for a long time. Then, he spoke, "I haven't thought about it."
"Bullshit," I said. "You must have thought about it. Even if just to laugh at the idea."
Nothing.
I tried again. "What do the other operatives call you? I mean there are other operatives, right?"
"I don't engage with other operatives."
"There are no group projects?"
"Group projects would put everyone involved at risk if something goes wrong."
"So, you work on your own?"
"Yes."
"Must be lonely."
"I don't think about it. It's unnecessary."
"I take it you don't go out and have fun when you're off work?"
"Fun?" he asked as if he didn't know the word.
"Yes. Like movies or karaoke night or clubbing."
"That's also unnecessary."
"It's not."
"You don't do those things yourself."
There was a long moment of silence. "No… Not for a while," I admitted.
"Then why suggest them to me?"
"Because they help you forget about your worries."
"In that case, Kimmy, you should resume those activities," he supplied, his voice somehow a little softer as he said my name again.
My pulse stuttered. "Karaoke is kinda boring by yourself. Maybe I need a partner."
"Find one."
