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<span class="mu-s">"Marnie...?"</span> Phascomon asks weakly. You see him on your screen with one eye open, watching the broadcast blearily.
"Shh. Go to sleep. We'll talk in the morning."
<span class="mu-s">"I... Sorry, I-"</span>
"What? You don't have anything to be sorry for. Come on, get some rest. You really, really need it now."
You turn the lights off on your Digivice, and that's enough to lull his exhausted little form to sleep. You sit on the bed and watch as the propaganda continues.
There's nothing else of interest. They simply announce that tomorrow is a holiday for those who work in that district, as they finalize their repairs and make sure everything is back in shape. The screen is then filled with live comments from the audience, who are cheering and celebrating the resolution of their tech issues.
You keep it on just in case, worried that you'll see yourself there. Luckily, no such thing happens. You pace around while figuring out your next move.
>Go to sleep for now. You're exhausted and not thinking straight. In the morning, when Phascomon hopefully wakes up, you can start planning anew. But right now, any further strain is going to hamper your judgement. Maybe the two didn't even report you. That's a long shot, but you hold on to a bit of hope.
>Start packing up. If you're flagged, you're going to lose a lot of privileges. That includes having an apartment. You want to get your most important belongings and leave before they can find your address. You're not sure how fast they can figure out who you are. Work through the exhaustion and get ready to depart your home forever.
>Leave immediately. You're paranoid that something is going to happen. You don't think you have time to even pack, just get out of here. With your failure to talk your way out of the earlier situation, you think that your choice to come home has retroactively become a mistake. You'll prioritise going to the Dogs of War base over Doc's, since you want to brief them on the book. Unless you change your mind as you're walking out of the door, of course.
