The next week was a kaleidoscope of shifting demands, which forced Junior to constantly improvise.
By day, Junior had to juggle priorities. He still had online music lessons with his students on some days and refused to give them up. The morning immediately after the first disastrous sleepover with Millie was quite the wake-up call.
"Junior," Athena stated calmly, "your lesson with Evan Calder starts in less than 2 minutes."
"I know, I know," Junior yawned as he slumped against the kitchen counter. "That's why I need to finish my coffee." Saying that, Junior took another sip while stifling a second yawn.
"How do your lessons work, exactly?" Millie asked from the couch in the living room. The condo unit was small enough that they could still easily talk to each other from the different 'rooms'. "Don't you need to change first?"
The pair were still dressed in their sleepwear.
Junior wore an old, soft cotton T-shirt that had long since lost whatever logo it once had, paired with loose flannel bottoms and mismatched socks. Everything about the outfit prioritised comfort and familiarity over appearance - clothing chosen by feel, not reflection.
Millie, by contrast, looked like she'd dressed for morale. Her oversized pyjama top was a loud, stylised pop-print - some aggressively cute monster mascot grinning with far too many teeth - paired with snug sleep shorts and knee-high socks patterned with little stars. The effect was halfway between 'sleepover gremlin' and 'cartoon menace'.
"No, I don't use video for my lessons," Junior shook his head tiredly. "Not unless I need to show my fingering or something. Then Athena handles the camera and makes sure only my hands are in frame," he explained.
"Wow, that's pretty impressive. Where's the camera?" Millie turned her head from side to side, looking around curiously.
Junior shrugged as he drained his coffee. "I'm not sure. I think one's on the ceiling somewhere." He pushed himself up and shuffled over to his piano. "Athena, start the call."
Millie craned her neck back and looked up at the ceiling, spotting an otherwise unobtrusive glass dome. "Ooh, I wanna see what kind of visuals you could make!" she said enthusiastically, speaking over Junior in her excitement. She stood and walked to stand directly under it.
"Initiating visual call," Athena stated, misinterpreting the overlapping voices as a command. But Junior and Millie were both too distracted to catch it.
"Hi, Mr. Stoneberg," a voice came over the condo's speakers. A pause. "Uh, sir, did you know you have-?"
Millie, perhaps due to her excitement or lack of proper sleep, spoke over the new voice again.
"I see it!" she said. She reached upwards, trying to stand on her tiptoes. Her pyjama top rode upwards, exposing her midriff as she stretched, entirely focused on the ceiling fixture. "I thought it was a weird chandelier or fancy smoke alarm."
For his part, Junior responded to his student.
"Good morning, Evan. I thought I told you to call me Junior."
There was an unusually long pause.
"Sorry, sir," the voice said. "I mean Junior. You did, I just forgot. I guess I'm a little distracted."
"You're not the only one," Junior chuckled. "I had a pretty rough night."
"Uhm…" Evan said.
When Evan revealed why he was distracted, Millie was embarrassed.
Until she learned Junior was even more mortified than her, at least. Then he never heard the end of it.
Later the same day, a courier delivered documents to his door, courtesy of Alexis. Millie had left by the time the delivery was made.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Stoneberg. My name is Marcus Hale." The man stood in the corridor, dressed in a business suit. He spoke with the ease and clarity of long practice. "I have the documents for your signature."
"Do you want to come in, Mr. Hale?" Junior asked awkwardly.
"No, thank you, Mr. Stoneberg," the man replied graciously. He offered the envelope, thick with papers, out where Junior could easily reach it. "I'm holding the documents in front of you," he continued courteously. "The places you need to sign are all marked with a tactile placeholder."
"Thank you," Junior said as he reached out and grasped the offered documents. "That's very thoughtful. Let me just get my signing guide, I won't be long. And please, call me Junior."
"No rush, Junior," the man replied amiably as Junior turned away. "Please take your time."
At night, Junior had to deal with Millie's return for another round of 'sleepover science,' as she called it.
"Do we have to try again right away?" Junior half sighed, half pleaded. "Neither of us got much sleep. Don't you want to recover?"
Millie sat cross-legged on Junior's couch and grinned.
"That's what makes it so perfect!" she said with far too much enthusiasm. "We're so tired, we'll have no problems falling asleep!"
Junior grumbled unintelligibly under his breath. He really didn't want to do this, especially not after last night's … disturbances. But he owed Millie a lot; his life, even, if he was being honest. She'd never pushed him to 'pay her back' or asked for special treatment on anything.
Except for this.
What was a restless night or two compared to that?
"Okay, we'll do it your way," he caved in. "But make sure to let me sleep in tomorrow morning."
Millie was right about them falling asleep, at least. Unfortunately, Junior didn't experience any System-inspired lucid dreams.
It was only days after the 'courier's' visit that Junior finally learned the man wasn't a courier after all.
"I offered, but I'm kinda glad the courier you sent didn't want to come inside," Junior admitted during a call with Alexis. "It still makes me feel a little vulnerable to invite strangers into my home. Sorry."
"Perfectly understandable for you to feel that way," she said. Then she paused so briefly it was hardly noticeable. "Just one minor correction: Director Marcus Hale isn't a courier. His division has direct oversight of Maritime Observation Site Delta - or MOS-D, as they prefer. He wanted to meet you in person, and I needed to send someone of appropriate authority to witness the signing on behalf of T&S."
"He's what?!" Junior gasped in shock.
When he wasn't dealing with Alexis dragging him into corporate bureaucracy, it was his Uncle Orestes. He invited Junior to a midday poetry reading, of all things. Which was surprisingly in character for the man.
"You look tired, Thamish," Orestes told him during a brief intermission.
They were seated at a round table with a colourful, though cheap, tablecloth. Several identical tables were crowded a little too closely together in the poorly lit room. Their conversation was lost in the buzz of the crowd, which Junior appreciated for the comforting sense of privacy. Achilles was squeezed in under the table; though cramped for the large dog, it was the only option to keep him safely from underfoot.
"Are you getting enough sleep?" Orestes continued. "I hope your dreams aren't too troubling."
Orestes didn't put any special emphasis on the word 'dreams'. But given who he was talking to, Junior latched on to it immediately.
"My dreams would be nicer if I had some guidance on how to deal with them a little better," he replied leadingly.
Orestes chuckled so softly that Junior could barely hear him over the noise. He leisurely picked up the drink in front of him, took a sip, then returned it to the table.
"Know thyself, for only then may you navigate the tides of the unseen," Orestes quoted in a low, though senatorial voice. "That's a quote from an inscription on an underwater monument, believed to be a relic from the lost temple to Thalasson, the Eye of the Deep."
Junior tried to rein in his instinctive irritation.
"Keep an open mind," he muttered to himself like a mantra. Then he spoke loud enough for his Uncle to hear. "Is that actually meant to be helpful? You know that really doesn't sound helpful, right?"
Orestes' smile vanished.
"There is nothing that I could possibly say that could help you more at your stage of this journey," he said with absolute seriousness.
Despite himself, Junior felt a phantom chill go down his spine. Then he actually shivered when he felt a gust of air brush across his face, carrying with it the smell of the sea.
Junior started to frown. Then he froze. "Did you … that was you, wasn't it?" he demanded in a fierce whisper.
"Know thyself," Orestes restated firmly.
Junior couldn't find the words to speak before the next reader came onto the stage and started their poem.
With the latest bombshell from his Uncle on the top of Junior's mind, he had a lot to think about that night. When Millie arrived that night for their now regular sleepover, Junior could hardly wait to tell her what happened.
"Junior, I think your wonky uncle did that sea-toot thing to me, too," Millie said when he finished.
Junior went still for half a second — then dissolved into laughter.
"Sea… toot?" he managed, breathless.
Millie laughed with him, clearly pleased. "What else would you call it? It was kind of cool, I guess. But not compared to what you can do."
The encouraging words spread warmth through his chest.
"Know myself," he said. He breathed in deep, then exhaled forcefully.
"Yeah. I think it's time I figured that out."