Luke never spies. But for the people who matter to him? The people he cares about? There's a little thread that connects him to their emotions, a little spider silk that tugs at him when something big happens. And something big is happening right now with Bill, bigger than anything Luke's ever felt from him before. Bigger than you'd expect from a being with just barely three dimensions to him. But Bill's always contained more than one expects.

He knows that Bill is at a crossroads. He's not sure where the turnings lead, but he knows that Bill's made progress lately and it's a sort of necessary evil that so much of it has hurt. It's too bad, he thinks, that so much has to hurt in this world in order to make it better. It's never any consolation, is it? Still, he's got to try, and if Bill's done what Luke thinks he's done, well.

He's going to need a lot of consoling. But he's also going to deserve a lot of credit.

Luke eventually finds him in the pool, in a manner that gives him a twinge simply because if it'd been anyone else it'd be a totally different situation. This is Bill being dramatic, but alive anyway, and in obvious pain. Luke takes in the music, the sandwich, wonders where the duck thing came from. He comes and sits cross-legged by the side of the pool, watching for a moment. The song, unfamiliar to him, is very sad.

"Hey," he calls out across the water.

Luke frowns, watching him.

"It's a weird truth about people," he says, "that the worst ones aren't really capable of realizing that."