Purple's wearing less of their signature colour than usual today, just their helmet and a long purple coat breaking up the black. The vigil brought to mind thoughts of their last partner, Cyan, the one who didn't make it out of the job gone wrong. Cyan had been quick to action. Hadn't put in the effort to build up an alibi.

Purple themselves nearly didn't pull through. Found themselves in the office of a woman in a black spacesuit, and then stepped off a rustic ferry into a town holding a vegetable-themed summer festival. When they got back the union told them they'd been lucky to recover so fast and bought them a ticket for the furthest spaceport they could get on short notice. They found a job at their destination, just a seasonal contract to cover the bills until the investigators closed the case, and it killed them before they had the chance to get back. The woman in the black spacesuit was there then, too. On Adamance, or not long afterwards.

They flag her down, waving an arm. She's not wearing a spacesuit here but her height, her voice, her presence are all uncannily familiar. "It's Mortanne, right?"

"Why me?" They break off, turn their helmeted head to look at the falling snow instead of her. "I must owe you a pretty big favour after all of this."