"Maine. Sebec Lake. I wanted to be close, for when the station re-opened." There's something embarrassing in the admission that Enoch spent those three months waiting so close to Enodia. But the alternative was facing the rest of his life outside of work, and he just... couldn't. Better to hole up in Maine, away from everyone he knows, and sort through his backlog.

Enoch steps into view a few feet to the right of Raine, also staring out at the water, although what he's actually looking at is the roiling storm beyond the sliding doors of his balcony. To Enoch's eyes, the lake is a silk tulle veil draped over reality, lovely but transparent. He's experienced what his illusions must feel like to other people only once.

He puts a hand on the painted wooden railing surrounding the deck (not real, his senses tell him). "Someone should start a betting pool for how long it takes before Enodia shuts down again. I give us three weeks."