Kit climbed wearily to his feet and found the door.
”Yeah?”
”It’s Bull.”
Kit unlocked it. “Come on in.”
”Drinking in the dark?” Bull asked with a frown.
”Margo’s asleep. I didn’t want to disturb her.” He flicked on a table lamp.
”I won’t stay long then. I’ve spoken with our newest down timer. He’s suspicious and unhappy and protested rather violently when I confiscated his weapons, but I didn’t order confinement. He seemed genuinely apologetic that he’d attacked the wrong person. Ordinarily, you know, I’d order strict confinement for a fight with lethal weapons, but under the circumstances …
”Yeah,” Kit said heavily.
”I’ll confine him if You’d p refer.”
Kit glanced up. “No. No, don’t do that He was shaken and scared. Battle does strange things to a man’s mind, as it is, never mind falling through a gate into La-La Land. What’s his name, anyway?”
”Kynan Rhys Gower.”
”Poor bastard.”
”Yeah. It’s rough on the down timers. Buddy’s already had a long session with him. He says it’s the usual reaction: he’s confused, scared, convinced he’s in hell. I wish. to God the government would come up with some sane policy regarding them, but chances are it’d be worse for ’em than leaving ’em here.”
Kit snorted. “When the government gets involved, things always get worse.”
Bull smiled wryly. “Ain’t it the truth? How’s Margo?”
”Rachel set fifteen stitches in her arm, nearly fifty in her leg.”
Bull winced. “That serious?”
”No, the slashes were shallow, thank God, just long. She should be fine, so long as massive infection doesn’t set in. Rachel’s put her on antibiotics.”