"This is true. Plus 'the demon can also get home by killing you'."

"That too. ...Hm, I was about to ask if you wanted me to put some music on, but you'd probably make a disparaging remark about my cassette tapes, wouldn't you."

"I mean, they work, play whatever you want to play, I don't plan to make a futuristic speaker system in your car unless you really really want one."

Cam whistles along softly and reads notes on his computer.

And after "I Want To Break Free" and "Mr. Fahrenheit" have concluded, and they're about halfway through "Under Pressure," they arrive on campus.

Her car clock works, and it's a little after eleven at night.

"So, I don't have to sleep and can render the question academic by just wandering around outdoors all night long, but are we stashing me somewhere in particular?"

"You can stay in my room, at least until Jaromira gets back. Probably after, too, she probably don't mind, but I don't have the right to make promises for her."

"All right."

"Wandering around outdoors sounds kind of boring anyways. And I think it's late enough that Jawbreaker--Cecil--will be asleep, but we could check anyway if you want."

"I might just hop in a little shuttle and fly to Africa and release sterile male mosquitoes in enormous clouds and be back in time for breakfast with malaria on its way to dying," Cam points out. "I do need to get briefly online to assess the local state of the parasite so I know where to go, but that's all it'd take."

"Good point. I have a computer in my room, it's the weekend so the library will be closed and you can't use one of those."

"I can make my own computer, no need to trespass, it's the internet connection I can't do myself."

"Well, you can use my Ethernet cable."

"Joy. Rapture. No, this is actually fine, it's nearly impossible to get demons to coordinate on an internet we all reliably use instead of just privately conjuring up whatever we want to look at, most of the time I don't even have Ethernet."

"I live in in Lucy Hall. This way."

Follow, follow.

Her room is divided roughly in half, with the two beds against opposite walls. One side of the room is decorated with a faux-Victorian aesthetic, and the other has posters and assorted bric-a-brac. Daphne tosses her bag on the bed on the bric-a-brac side and unplugs the Ethernet cable from the desktop computer on the desk.

And he takes the end of it and plugs it into a computer much less advanced than the one currently clipped to his belt loop. It is already booted up. He starts a browser Daphne has never heard of and looks for old familiar websites. Google exists! It hasn't done so for very long, but it is there. Wikipedia isn't. Damn. Muttering about that, he looks up the current scope of malarial mosquitoes.

Malarial mosquitos: exist

"As far as I know, we don't have any mole people or cloud giants, and if we did have cloud giants I sincerely doubt we have treaties with them. Go for it."

"All right. I'll be back in the morning, probably loitering outside your building rather than alarm your dorm-mates by conjuring a key. Sleep well!"