"So," says Bell. "Pages, similar, yes. Okay." She turns her attention to the map.

"I mean, not that I wouldn't love to do this without killing anybody we don't wanna kill. But unless we have seriously superior force, the real world doesn't work that way."

"But," Shell Bell says, "the more superior the force, the faster and more surgically we can work. So I think you guys probably want to set up signs for assassinations and custom engineering projects. And acquire stick-equivalents of your own if you can."

"The kind of custom engineering I do best, if I sell it to the wrong people it could actually give us worse collateral than trying to run our revolution on a shoestring budget," says Tony. "So: yes, but very carefully."

"Right. You both wanna pick customers carefully. I'm not so picky. I think talking to me usually cuts casualties in the worlds of whoever I'm consulting. Even if they aren't nice people, the ones whose priority is being not-nice don't want my help in the first place. We can coordinate, maybe, if I get people who could be running things cleaner with some precision stabbing or explodey trinkets."

"Now that sounds like a plan," says Tony.

The phrase 'precision stabbing' actually causes Sherlock to smile slightly.

"And," Bella says, "comm devices could come in handy here. I'm happy to just live in Milliways for months now I'm not running down a supply of shells that I could get away with leaving by whichever door and the ones I can carry on my person. If I find somebody, I can stick my head out the door and call you, if we have those. And then you can try for a door-summoning, yeah? If the timeline works out. I'm not so sure how that works. I hear all kinds of stories but I've never found anyone else from Panem here before. So I haven't been able to compare."

"The most obvious question is, when are you?"

"July ninth, year 72," says Shell Bell. "It was early morning, if that matters. I found this instead of the hall when I opened my bedroom door. Tony's supposed to start his Victory Tour next week."

"Sounds about right," says Tony.

"Yes," Sherlock confirms. "This time at least, we are within a few hours of one another."

"Are our districts even in the same time zone? Actually - forget districts - Four spans two all by itself. I'm in the earlier one. And... what does this imply about us being able to contact each other again? If you leave and I stay here, even for a solid six months - when I come out it'll still be July ninth, early morning. You won't have time to find the place again. Unless you will. I've seen people enter and leave several times, when they come often enough and it's one of my longer stints, but me being here doesn't do anything to time passing in their worlds. For that matter, I'm not clear on how Sherlock appeared here when I've already been on the premises for two days. Ugh. I've been coming here for twelve years. Actually, I spend so long here that it might add up to more like thirteen by now. And I still don't get this sort of thing."

"I am not sure anyone does," says Sherlock.

"I'll be right back," says Tony, and he gets up and heads over to the bar.

"Well," says Shell Bell. "We can experiment and make tentative conclusions, provided we don't expect them to hold every time. But it would be really convenient if we had a way to communicate in Panem, too. Especially since it's otherwise going to be hard to coordinate service sales. In theory I can take down room numbers and Tony can leave whatever he makes as an inter-room package for the next time the customer reappears. I don't think assassinations can be made to work the same way. Do you do anything else?" Bell asks Sherlock. "Anything... portable."

"Solve difficult mysteries," she says. "Although I am not sure that is especially portable, either."

"It could be, if at least one of us manages to meet the person more than once and collect lots of portable evidence the second time - photos of places? Articles by unreliable reporters? What can you do with that sort of thing gathered by not-you?"

"I have never tried. It is a habit of mine to find out more than I'm meant to from whatever information is left in my path."

"Okay. Well. We can try it, advertising results-not-guaranteed and all. You're comfortable enough with the assassinations idea in the first place that I gather you aren't scared to go to other worlds."

"I am not, no. Should I be?"

"I am," says Bell. "I never have. I don't know how long it would take me to get back or what I'd do in the meantime."

"I see what you mean," Sherlock acknowledges.

"Yes. But I suppose it also matters why one might be visiting another world in the first place, and the trustworthiness of one's escort."