' 'Coffee would be good,' Owen Underhill said. It's the smell of the body eating itself, because that's all cancer is when you take the diagnostic masks off: autocannibalism. God knows Henry and his old friends have their problems. He followed the asexualcreature through a long, high-ceilinged foyer to a closed, heavily-paneled door to the right of a spiralstaircase that led to the floor above.
'Where's Rick?' she asked. The flushers let their truncheons hang bythe lanyards and went to more effective weaponry. It— The door opens and a good-looking brunette comes in. Working carefully, with not the slightest feeling of impatience (he supposed he might be in shock), Henry unclipped the belt and Pete thumped to the roof, his head bending sideways.
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