The route from the favela to the Veterans' Residence is quite familiar to White Rum. She has ferried the doctor back and forth countless times.
White Rum: You ever been to a Veterans' Residence? Not many young faces there, besides Lopera. As far as the doc goes, doubtful anyone knows her real age, and even the saltiest sailor knows better than to ask a lady her age!
...
White Rum: Oh. I see that joke missed the bow, so to speak.
Vertin: No, no, it wasn't a bad joke at all, really.
A joke would usually warrant some kind of response.
White Rum: Aye, thanks for the kind words, lass, but best to leave old flotsam where it lies.
Mamãe Mariana from the Veterans' Residence brings out some snacks.
There's plenty of sugar to go round in this neck of the woods.
Mamãe Mariana: Have you been filling this sweet young lady's head with your tall tales, Shippy?
The little ship used to live with the doctor in the Veterans' Residence, but today she returns alone, and neither one of her two passengers is her old roommate.
Vertin: Sorry to show up without proper notice.
Mamãe Mariana: Don't worry about it! Any friend of Lopera is a friend of ours.
Mamãe Mariana: Oh. If you'd come a couple of days earlier, we would've introduced you to Mr. Duncan and Dr. Dores.
Mamãe Mariana: But they've not been around in a while.
Vertin: That's a shame. I was looking forward to meeting them. Hopefully we'll see them soon.
Kimberly wanders the courtyard. She's still on guard, but she seems to be oddly familiar with this place.
Mamãe Mariana: You know, I knew a girl who looked just like her. A caregiver here way back in the '60s.
Mamãe Mariana: Back when this place was called Heartfelt Home.
She scratches the chin of the kitten in her arms.
Mamãe Mariana: But it can't be her now, can it? Besides, I'm old now, and my memory is a bit fuzzier than it used to be.
Vertin: May I see Dr. Dores's room?
Mamãe Mariana: She wouldn't mind, but please be careful not to move anything.
Mamãe Mariana: It's that one over there, dear. She never locks the door.
The place looks no different from the other rooms in the courtyard, but the door is slightly ajar.
Green vines hang from the roof, and the weathered walls bear the passage of time. It's a simple little home.
Kimberly stands by the door, a stray cat in her arms. She scratches its belly.
Ms. Kimberly: Aah!
Vertin: Hmm?
Ms. Kimberly: How dare you scratch me!
The cat leaps out of Kimberly's arms, grabs hold of one of the vines, and clambers over the wall of the Veterans' Residence.
Ms. Kimberly: Get back here, you fluffy rapscallion! I'll have your tail, you hear me?!
She's not as agile as she looks, or perhaps the kitten has made her soft.
She fails to catch it, instead stumbling into the door, throwing it wide open, and hitting the floor with a thud.
Vertin: Do be careful, Ms. Kimberly.
Ms. Kimberly: Ugh, how did that happen?
Ms. Kimberly: And how long have you been standing there?
Vertin: Just a little while.
Vertin: Funny, I've never thought to open a door like that before.
Vertin: Come along. Let's take a peek inside.
...
It's a rather ordinary guest room.
Except there's a peculiar white marble chair sitting by the window. It has a red button on the armrest.
Vertin: Hmm?
The marble feels familiar, but no memories come to mind.
Odd how they both have some kind of familiarity with this place.
Ms. Kimberly: Hmm, what's this red button on the chair?
The button seems totally out of place, as if daring someone to press it.
Kimberly takes a seat and curiously presses the button.
*click—click* *click-click-click*
Despite her fervent pressing, nothing happens. Frustrated, she swings her legs over the other side of the chair.
Ms. Kimberly: Heh. Good for nothing!
A tasteless decoration. No one knows why this chair is in the doctor's room.
But pressing the button didn't trigger an explosion or anything of the like. It's simply a functionless, harmless little contraption.
On the other side of the room, the doctor's desk holds a stack of manuscripts.
Vertin: These must be articles that she hasn't sent out yet.
Notes on the districts of São Paulo, records of arcanists in the favelas, investigations into plantation economies in northeastern Brazil …
Ms. Kimberly: She's a good woman.
Ms. Kimberly: And her room smells like a good woman's room. You don't find many of those around these days.
Vertin: What makes you say so?
Ms. Kimberly: Well, firstly, she did save your life.
Ms. Kimberly: And secondly, it's hard to explain. Good people have a smell, a pleasant one. My nose has never been wrong.
Ms. Kimberly: Vertin ...
Vertin: We'll bring her home safely.
Ms. Kimberly: This typewriter seems like it's seen a lot of use.
Vertin: Do you see any drafts? Any samples?
Ms. Kimberly: I can't say. I'm not very familiar with these things.
Ms. Kimberly: Take a look! She's signed something here. Hmm, but I thought her name was Dores.
There's a single word written at the bottom of the manuscript.
Urd.
Vertin: ...?!
???: Mariana!!
A familiar voice echoes from outside.
