Unusually, Dante was sleeping when Belita’s call reached his ears. He did not like to leave himself and his home unguarded, but it was so quiet and he kept such odd hours that he had to take sleep’s sweet respite whenever it was offered to him. But when he awoke, stirred by his visitor, he was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, despite Atlantis’ reasonably ambient temperature; his mismatched eyes were glazed over with confusion, and he walked slowly, as though still half asleep.

It didn’t take Dante long to find her, and when he did he forced his puzzled expression into his usual one of easy friendliness. Belita wouldn’t be able to tell the difference—nobody would—but his mind was elsewhere. He approached her calmly, pausing in front of her with a welcoming, warm smile on his lips. He didn’t know where she had disappeared to during her first tenure in the Paradise, but if she didn’t want to tell him, Dante wasn’t going to ask.

He was just glad to have her back, grateful for the company.

He had been pottering around in this oversized mansion of a home for too long. Soon enough he knew he would have to make the effort and actually venture out to the Crossing to make some friends. He was a sociable creature, but awkward and unsure at the same time.

“Belita,” he said warmly, bobbing his head slightly in greeting.

“Welcome back.”

DANTE
a man possessed of some radical notions