Leo sat in the dark of his apartment, the blue light of the monitor reflecting off his glasses. He wasn't a pirate; he was a "preservationist." At least, that’s what he told himself. But this file was different. He hadn't downloaded it. It had simply appeared in his "Downloads" folder after a power surge the night before.

The smell hit him then. It wasn't pepperoni. It was the salt-rot of the ocean, mixed with something sweet and sickly—the smell of a beach house left closed for too long in the summer heat.

00:00:40,000 --> 00:00:45,000 IT’S HARD TO MOVE WHEN YOUR JOINTS ARE STIFF. HELP ME POSES.

He wasn't wearing sunglasses. And he wasn't moving. He was just... waiting for Leo to come over and hold him up.

00:01:00,000 --> 99:59:59,999 SMILE, LEO. PEOPLE WILL TALK IF WE DON'T LOOK LIKE WE'RE HAVING A GOOD TIME.

Leo didn't move. He looked back at the screen. The subtitles were updating in real-time now, the scroll bar moving on its own.