"My brother is at my door at six in the evening," Makima confirmed. She sat up. Reached for her blouse that was folded neatly over Sean’s desk chair. "He does this. Shows up without calling. He’s been doing it since he was fifteen and our parents thought it was endearing so they never corrected it."

"And now?" said Sean.

"Now it is considerably less endearing," said Makima. She buttoned her blouse efficiently. Reached for her trousers. "I need to go down before he wakes up half the building."

"Danny!" The voice came again. Louder. "I brought food. The place near campus. The one you like."

"He brought food," said Sean.

"He always brings food when he feels guilty," said Makima. She stood up. Smoothed her blouse. Her hair was still slightly loose but she pulled it back quickly with practiced hands. She looked at Sean. Then at the state of his apartment. Then back at Sean.

"How do I look?" she said.

"Like someone who just woke up," said Sean.

"That’s what I was afraid of," said Makima.

"Makima!" Danny’s voice. "I can hear you moving around up there!"

"I’M COMING DANNY." She called it down through the floor. Her voice switched into full landlord mode instantly. Professional. Controlled.

Sean raised an eyebrow. "He can’t hear through the floor."

"He absolutely cannot," said Makima. "But it makes me feel better." She picked up the thermos from the table. Looked at Sean. "Stay here. I’ll handle him."

"What if I want to meet your brother?" said Sean.

Makima looked at him. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because Danny has absolutely no filter and will ask you questions for forty-five minutes straight and then tell everyone he knows about you," said Makima. "I need to manage this carefully."

"Sounds fun," said Sean.

"Sean." Her voice was firm but her eyes were doing something else. Trying not to smile. "Please stay in this apartment."

"Okay," said Sean.

She gave him one more look that said she didn’t entirely believe him. Then she walked to his door and slipped out.

Sean waited exactly four minutes.

Then he got up, put on clean clothes, and walked downstairs.

Makima’s apartment door was open. Sean could hear the conversation from the hallway before he reached the door.

"...I just wanted to come and say thank you in person. To whoever—"

"Danny I told you, it was handled through—"

"But who though? Because two hundred and eighty thousand dollars doesn’t just get handled. That’s not how money works, Makima. Someone paid that. A real person. With real money—"

"Danny—"

"And I want to thank them. Properly. Because whoever they are they literally saved my life. I’m not exaggerating, I was looking at criminal charges. I was looking at—"

Sean knocked on the open door.

Both of them turned.

Danny was twenty-three years old. Medium height. Lean like he hadn’t quite finished growing into himself. He had Makima’s eyes. Same shape, same dark intensity. His hair was cut short and he was wearing a hoodie and jeans and holding two large paper bags that smelled incredible.

He looked at Sean.

Sean looked at him.

Makima looked at Sean with an expression that very clearly said I told you to stay upstairs.

Sean gave her a small smile that said I know.

"Hi," said Danny. He looked at Sean. Then at his sister. Then back at Sean. His brain was clearly running fast. Putting things together. "You’re the tenant from upstairs."

"Yeah," said Sean. "Sean Miller. Good morning."

"It’s evening," said Danny.

"Right," said Sean. "Good evening."

Danny looked at him. Then at Makima. Then back at Sean. "Why are you..."

"I smelled food," said Sean. "I haven’t eaten since this morning."

"Right," said Danny slowly. He was clearly not convinced. But he held up the bags anyway. "I got enough for three people actually. I always order too much."

"Danny," said Makima. Warning in her voice.

"What? I’m just saying there’s enough food." He looked at Sean with those sharp eyes. "You want to eat? Come in. There’s plenty."

Makima looked at the ceiling briefly. Then she stepped back from the door.

Sean walked in.

—---------------

Makima’s apartment was exactly what Sean expected. Warm. Organized. Clean without being cold. Plants near the window. Photographs on one wall. Her parents probably. A younger Danny and Makima at what looked like a graduation. Everything had a place and knew it.

They sat around her kitchen table. Danny unpacked enough food for five people. Rice. Stewed vegetables. Fried plantains. Grilled chicken. Small containers of sauce.

"I went to that Chinese Restaurant you like and ordered Sushi" said Danny to Makima. Then to Sean: "Do you eat Nigerian food?"

"I eat everything ,I ain’t a picky eater" said Sean.

"Good man," said Danny. He pushed a container toward Sean. Then he sat back and looked at him with those eyes that missed nothing. "So. Sean Miller."

"So. Danny," said Sean.

"You live upstairs."

"Yeah."

"How long?"

"Since the start of semester," said Sean.

"Freshman?"

"Yeah."

Danny looked at Makima. Makima was focused on opening a container with specific concentration.

"Makima says you’ve been helpful around the building," said Danny carefully.

"She’s a good landlord," said Sean. "Easy to help when someone takes care of their tenants."

Danny looked at him. "That’s a very mature thing to say."

"Danny," said Makima.

"I’m just saying," said Danny. He picked up his chopsticks. Started eating. But his eyes hadn’t left Sean. "So where are you from? What are you studying? What does your family do?"

"Danny." Makima’s voice was sharper now.

"I’m making conversation," said Danny. Completely unbothered. To Sean: "She always does this. Acts like normal questions are interrogation."

"They’re normal questions when you ask normal people," said Makima. "With you they’re an interrogation."

"I’m curious," said Danny simply. He looked at Sean. "You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I’m just—" He stopped. Set his fork down. His expression changed. "Wait. Hang on."

The table went quiet.