"Evidence suggests that the bar enjoys providing people with food they will find both pleasant and nourishing."

"She managed it." Bell sighs. "If your dad invented a third of the tech District Three has your family probably captured some of the proceeds, right? I never pay attention during the backstory spots during the Games, but. I suppose I sound like a hick."

"He spent it all," says Sherlock. "Tony has begun to make some of it back."

"Me."

"Were you... sick?" guesses Shell Bell.

"In a manner of speaking. I was born Tony's identical twin," she explains. "That did not suit me. The kind of relatively subtle modification necessary to correct the dissonance is an unremarkable thing to achieve, in the Capitol. Our father had a friend from the Capitol who arranged the appropriate access, for a fee, of course. An increasingly exorbitant one. When he was finished with us, I was as you see me and the family fortune was largely his. We no longer consider him a friend."

"Oh," says Shell Bell. "Well. They did a very good job. I'm sorry your ex-friend is terrible."

"They did indeed do a very good job," she agrees. "I am probably the only girl outside the Capitol who can truthfully say her breasts were designed by an artist."

"Speaking of outside the Capitol. I've never seen anyone else from Panem here, and I do my very best to talk to everyone," says Shell Bell. "Even scary people who want to spend the entire conversation talking about how if we weren't in Milliways they'd like to drink my spinal fluid. Have you seen anyone else, besides Tony and me?"

"I have not," she says. "Was that an example from practical experience?"

"Yeah. I was nine. Creepy, ugly kraken, that guy. He didn't actually get any spinal fluid. Or any other fluid."

"Why spinal fluid," Sherlock muses. "Personal preference, or dietary requirement? Around here it can be difficult to tell."

"I think he was a human. Although plenty of folks just pass for it and aren't. I haven't had any luck getting superpowered aliens to come home with me. At least not yet."

"Have you met many superpowered aliens?" she inquires.

"A few. A surprising percentage of them speak English. A couple of the ones who didn't were telepathic, that was interesting."

"Yes, I imagine so."

"I hear that when me's are born where there's magic, we tend to have some. Not the world takeover kind. Just a defense. People are sometimes surprised when I tell them I can talk to telepaths."

"As far as I am aware, my alternates do not ordinarily possess magical powers. Although I believe at least one of them is a vampire."

"I heard of one of me being a vampire too. But it was third- or fourth-hand."

"I find it curious that we are both so oversupplied with other selves, when generally the people I meet here have few or none of their own."

"Maybe we're easy to produce. Or very likely to wind up interesting enough for Milliways. Or it entertains someone to put us together in a way it doesn't with most other collections of variants on a template," shrugs Bell.

"I have frequently suspected that whoever arranges the movements of the front door does so at least partly for entertainment."

Bell looks like she'd dearly like to say something snide but doesn't quite dare.

"Yes?"