A light, invisible hum whispered through the space.
The soldier blinked. His jaw slackened.
Then, confusion. He looked around the store as if unsure why he was there.
Noah stepped forward. “Can I help you find something for your kid, sir? You mentioned wanting to support your nephew?”
The man nodded slowly, gaze now softened, dazed.
“Yeah. Uh… yeah. Sorry. I—I must’ve… mixed up the address.”
Noah offered a tight-lipped smile. “Happens all the time.”
The man mumbled an apology and turned back toward the door, walking slower now, subdued — like a radio detuned mid-song.
When the door shut behind him, silence rushed back in.
James exhaled — and sank onto the stool behind the counter.
“Holy shit,” he muttered.
“You okay?” Noah asked.
James nodded. “Yeah. Just... that was familiar. I used to hear stuff like that in my head. Before I transitioned. Hell, sometimes after, too.”
Noah hesitated. He almost told him.
Almost.
That he’d used the Chronivac again. That none of that man’s change of tone was natural.
But James’s eyes weren’t angry. They were certain. Like someone who knew who he was — and how far he’d come.
Noah only said, “You handled that like someone who’s been through worse.”
James gave a tired smile. “I have.”
Noah wondered — again — which James was speaking.
And whether he’d done the right thing.