I don’t think I even put this much thought into suckering in that Mog. Did I misread Maddy’s interest? When Sandor comes home with a soggy bag of takeout, he doesn’t even ask me about my date. Instead, he wants to talk about his day prowling the city.“I drove all over the city with this thing,” he says, holding up his heavy-duty version of my iMog. “Nothing. Not a single blip. If that Mog had any friends looking for him, they’ve moved on. I think we’re in the clear.”“That’s great,” I reply distractedly.“To hiding in plain sight,” he toasts, raising a freshly mixed drink.Over burgers, Sandor finally gets around to asking about Maddy. I tell him everything, not leaving out a single detail, even trying to recreate Maddy’s body language for him. For the first time since we’ve been in Chicago, I feel like I could really use my Cêpan’s guidance.“Huh,” he says when I finish.“‘Huh.’ That’s it?”He shrugs. “Women are mysterious creatures.” As he says this, he gives me a strange look, half smirking and half apprehensive, like I’m some kind of weird animal he’s afraid will bite him.“What?”
