They started with Ghost Claw's room. She opened the door and stepped aside to let Tòumíng enter first.
The interior made him do a double-take.
Pink. Everything was pink.
Not subtle pink.
Not tasteful accent pink.
Aggressive, unapologetic, "this is my favorite color and I don't care what you think" pink.
The walls were painted a soft rose color. Posters covered most of the available wall space, some were tactical diagrams and weapons schematics, but interspersed among them were posters of cute animals, motivational quotes in cursive script, and what looked like C-pop groups.
Her bed was a queen-sized frame with a pink comforter covered in white polka dots, surrounded by at least a dozen throw pillows in various shades of pink.
But what really caught Tòumíng's attention was the massive cage in the corner, taking up easily twenty-five percent of the room's total floor space. Inside was a bright yellow canary, hopping between perches, occasionally chirping cheerfully.
"Does it have a name?" Tòumíng asked, walking closer to examine the bird.
"His name is Flin," Ghost Claw said, her voice carrying a softness Tòumíng hadn't heard before. She walked over to the cage and made a clicking sound with her tongue. The canary immediately hopped to the side of the cage closest to her, tilting its head.
Tòumíng couldn't resist.
"So you've got some kind of sweet spot for birds? First the gas mask that you won't explain, now a giant canary cage in your very pink bedroom?"
Ghost Claw's body language shifted immediately to defensive. "We're moving to the next room. Come on."
She ushered everyone out quickly, clearly not wanting to continue that conversation, and led them down the hall to Lucy's room.
Lucy opened her door with significantly less ceremony, gesturing for everyone to enter her domain.
The contrast was immediate and extreme.
Everything was black. The walls were painted matte black. The ceiling was black. Even the furniture was black. The only sources of color were the green LED strips running along the edges of the room and the glow from eight giant monitors arranged in a semicircular setup around a custom-built desk.
"Why do you need that many monitors?" Tòumíng asked, genuinely curious as he stared at the impressive display.
Lucy walked over to her setup, her fingers trailing along one of the screens. "Skip tracing requires multiple data streams running simultaneously. I need the RAM and screen real estate to cross-reference databases, run facial recognition algorithms, track digital footprints across social media, monitor dark web forums, and compile reports all at the same time. One monitor is for amateurs."
Tòumíng nodded, understanding maybe forty percent of what she'd just said. "Makes sense. Do you have a pet or something?"
Lucy's expression softened slightly, the first time Tòumíng had seen her look anything other than annoyed or dismissive. She pointed to a terrarium on a shelf near her bed.
Inside were five Red-Eared Slider turtles, each one basking under a heat lamp, their distinctive red markings visible even from across the room.
"I name them after the first five people I successfully traced," Lucy explained, walking over to the terrarium.
"That one's Marcus—embezzlement case, fled to Singapore. That's Jennifer—custody dispute, hiding in rural Montana. The big one is Carlos—cartel accountant, thought he could disappear in Mexico City. The one with the chip in his shell is David—serial con artist, I found him running a new scam in Miami. And the smallest is Amy—teenage runaway, reunited with her family."
There was something almost tender in the way she looked at the turtles, a stark contrast to her usual abrasive demeanor.
Tòumíng nodded approvingly. "That's actually pretty cool. Like a living trophy case but less creepy."
Before anyone could respond, Svetlana's hand clamped onto Tòumíng's shoulder with enough force to make him wince.
"My turn now," she said, her voice carrying excitement and barely-contained impatience. "You see my pet. Come."
She physically dragged him out of Lucy's room and down the hall, her grip unrelenting, practically lifting him off his feet with each step. The others followed at a more reasonable pace, clearly accustomed to Svetlana's enthusiasm.
She pulled him into her room and immediately closed the door behind them, not locking it, but definitely creating a sense of privacy that made Tòumíng slightly nervous.
Her room was... sparse. Aggressively minimalist. The walls were bare concrete, unpainted. The bed was a simple military-style cot with a thin mattress and a single blanket. No decorations. No posters. No personal touches except for the weights scattered across the floor, dumbbells, kettlebells, a barbell with plates that looked like they weighed more than Tòumíng's entire body.
It looked like a prison cell that someone had turned into a home gym.
Svetlana dragged him toward a small terrarium on the windowsill—the only item in the room that suggested any kind of softness or care.
Inside was a very tiny bearded dragon, maybe six inches long, basking under a heat lamp. Its scales were a light tan color with darker patterning, and it looked impossibly small and vulnerable in the spacious terrarium.
Svetlana's entire demeanor transformed. Her usual predatory intensity melted into something gentle, almost childlike. She opened the terrarium carefully and picked up the bearded dragon with surprising delicacy, cradling it in her large hands.
"His name is Titan," she said softly, her accent somehow more pronounced when she was being tender. "He may be small, but heart bigger than most. Very brave. Very strong. You like, yes?"
Her hand was still gripping Tòumíng's shoulder, not painfully, but firmly enough that he understood this was a question that required the correct answer. Her eyes bored into his, waiting for his response.
A bad answer would be a very, very bad answer.
"I like him," Tòumíng said quickly, nodding frantically. "He's great. Very... titan-like. Despite being small. The heart thing you said. That's good."
Svetlana's expression brightened immediately, her smile returning. "Good answer. I knew you had good taste."
She released his shoulder and went back to cooing at Titan in Russian, her voice dropping to barely above a whisper.
The door opened and the rest of the group filtered in, Ghost Claw, Lucy, Ben, and Think Tink The Tinkerer with Cfuar still draped across his shoulders.
This time Melvin wasn't with them.
"He passed out on my bed," Lucy explained before anyone could ask. "Just collapsed mid-walk. Narcolepsy kicked in."
Tòumíng nodded, accepting this as normal given everything else he'd witnessed today.
From upstairs, Polo's voice bellowed through the building: "FOOD IS READY, JACKASSES! EAT UP BEFORE IT GETS COLD!"
The group immediately started moving toward the cafeteria, their various pets left behind in their respective rooms, except for Think Tink The Tinkerer, who kept Cfuar on his shoulders because apparently the lizard came to dinner.
Tòumíng followed, his stomach growling at the mention of food, realizing he hadn't eaten since the lard incident this morning and his body was definitely running low on calories despite the Naked Gun buff wearing off hours ago.
Time to see if the twins' cooking was worth all their competitive arguing.