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Lucien suspects at once that Katarin has picked up on his deliberate avoidance of what had been stolen from Shuni, but that’s also, essentially, none of her business. Still, he hesitates. Telling her that would be giving away information if it isn’t what she’d meant. “W-what are you asking, Katarin?” he asks, shakily. 

It isn’t hard to pretend to be addled after being told he’s lost three days to the tender care of the Moonlit Lord. He still isn’t even sure if it’s true, though he sees no reason Katarin would lie to him. He adds, “I think I’ve gone over everything I think is related. What information do you still need?”

She’s not going to let this go so easily, though, and frowns at him. “Drink your tea,” she says. It’s a soft chamomile, rather than the bracing black tea he was hoping for, and he doubts she’s added anything hard to it, more’s the pity. But after all, it’s past her bedtime, at least, so the choice is explainable. “What did Shuni have stolen, Lucien?”

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Shuni not answering the door isn’t necessarily cause for concern, Lucien reminds himself. It’s far enough past dawn that Shuni might well be in bed by now, asleep or otherwise just ignoring visitors. Or perhaps he’s even still at the theatre, and Lucien simply missed him on the way out. It doesn’t necessarily mean that Shuni is gone. 

Still, he can’t help but think about poor Nan, taken by the Endless for what seemed to the cast to be one night only, but was for her so long that it was unendurable by the time she was finally returned.

—No, no good to think of that now. He knocks louder, again with no response.

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Lucien hesitates. Of course, he has a lot of questions for the Moonlit Lord—important ones, given how desperate for information he is. But there is one question that feels more pressing than the rest.

He rolls his head against her shoulder to look up at her, at the strange night sky of her face where all the moon phases show at once. “…How are you feeling?”

She…blinks. Or at least, he thinks that’s what happens. It feels like watching the night go by a hundred times faster than it ought to, clouds flickering across the moon, but it also feels just… like a person, taken aback, not knowing how to react. “…What?”

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“Thanks, Ran,” Lucien says gently. He doesn’t have the power to send them on break or give them the rest of the night off, and can’t imagine that he himself would be capable of going back to work the same night he met a Lord. But he at least knows someone who would have the ability to make that call for poor Ran. “Can you go let the Director know where I am, in case someone needs me?” 

Ran nods, gazing at Lucien as if they had fallen asleep on the spot and are startled to wake to find themself here. “Yes, of course.” And they head out, walking like a sleepwalker.

“Was that wise?” Shuni asks dryly.

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Shuni is putting the plan on him? It does feel a little to Lucien as if he’s being put on the spot, but he supposes that given the amount of information he just dumped on Shuni, maybe Shuni hardly knows where to begin. Lucien sure felt that way earlier with Katarin.

So Lucien tries to project confidence. “I think we should search the theatre,” he says. “We can see if anyone is acting strange, and perhaps we can get this over with by listening for the heart.”