This isn't weird.

An Efficient Solution

Two more bland days of cross-country driving, tense with nervous anticipation for a call that never came, delivered Ben back to Corvallis just before midnight.It was the most grateful he had ever been that his apartment had an elevator. He was exhausted on levels he didn't know existed.

He walked inside to find Indigo reading on the couch, reclining in his languidly catlike fashion and pretending very hard not to look like he was waiting up for him.

"Oh. You're back." Indigo glanced up from his book as if he barely noticed that someone else was in the room. His expression was as bored as ever, but Ben could see in his eyes that he was buzzing with glee.

"I missed you, too," Ben replied, dropping his bag on the ground before marching over and bending down to give him a hug. When he straightened back up and looked around, a grin spread over his face. "Jeez, this place is a wreck."

It was apparent that Indigo had tried to clean up in his absence, but his efforts had done more harm than good. The vacuum cleaner was overturned in front of the window, having partially devoured the corner of a fallen curtain; its hose was ripped free and nowhere to be seen, until Ben spotted it laying like a dead snake in a distant corner, as if thrown in a fit of violent frustration. A patch of yellowish-white had bloomed on the carpet next to the couch, clear evidence of a misguided attempt to remove a spill with a bleach-based cleaner, while the frenetic pattern of murky streaks dried to the coffee table betrayed a tremendous but futile effort to polish its glass surface. The mental image of Indigo in a slapstick struggle to wrestle the unfamiliar cleaning supplies into submission was both hilarious and heartwarming, and Ben desperately hoped that some portion of the ordeal had been caught on camera.

Indigo cleared his throat. "I have been considering the possibility of getting a new rug."

"That would really tie the room together," Ben said with an encouraging nod. He could hardly wait to see what the kitchen looked like.

"I ordered delivery from the Thai restaurant you mentioned, if you happen to be hungry," Indigo said.

"Starved!" Ben flopped onto the couch with a smile. Mentioned. Of course Indigo would remember his favorite restaurant in the neighborhood. "Thanks. Especially for not trying to cook."

"It is important to know one's limitations," Indigo replied gravely as he stood up, then stalked off into the kitchen to warm up the take-out boxes waiting in the refrigerator. The microwave, at least, he could safely operate.

Despite his assumption that he wouldn't have the mental energy to talk about his strange adventure, Ben soon found himself rattling off tales over lukewarm pad thai with surprising enthusiasm, though he had to tread a fine line to give context to his stories without further violating Millie's privacy. Indigo didn't appear to be listening, but of course, Ben knew better, and occasionally threw in a long pause just to goad him into pressing for the rest of the story.

Indigo's impassive facade fell away the moment Ben began to recount his run-in with Caleb Buckner. At the part where police entered the scene, his spine snapped into a stick-straight line. "I have lawyers—" he started, eyes flashing, but Ben cut him off with a dismissive wave.

"I don't think I'll need one," he said, scratching his neck with a guilty look. "I think Hoyt—Walt's husband, I mean, he's a cop, and his uncle, too—they kind of just... made it go away. It's kind of messed up. They told me to forget about it."

"Good," Indigo said with a nod.

Ben sighed. "Why am I the only one uncomfortable with the police covering up the fact that I assaulted a guy?"