He stepped up to his room, then hesitated as a hand stuck out of the next room down, holding a small vial. “Steris?” he said, walking to her. She was still sitting on the plush train bench—though her face was paler than before. “Steel flakes in suspension,” she said, wiggling the vial. “Since when have you carried one of these?” Wax asked, taking it from her. “Since about six months ago. I put one into my purse in case you might need it.” She raised her other hand, displaying two more. “I carry the other two because I’m neurotic.” He grinned, taking all three.
