Like, he wonders, being brainwashed and not herself? It feels like a dark little joke, not the kind of thought he usually has.

"Goodness. I don't know what I'd do with a dark and mysterious double life. Probably spend all my time trying to find someone to tell about it." He presses the button for the elevator.

"Sorry, is the top floor all right for you? My alternate is up there, in my apartment"—and the less said about that the better—"but truth be told, he's a good neighbour. Quiet. Just a little unpleasant in the corridors sometimes."