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Amber comes for him, after. Just opens all the shower stalls, one by one (none of them locked, because the Contractors don’t care; the organization never bothered giving them locks and probably only bothered with the stalls at all for their own peace of mind), until she finds the one Hei is in. It feels predatory, because that’s what Contractors are: supernatural predators in human skin, heartless strangers where your loved ones used to be.
He looks at her over his shoulder, too drained to... too drained for anything. Unless Amber tries to slit his throat, he doesn’t think he can bring himself to stop her from doing whatever she wants with him.
But she makes her eyes look soft and her mouth curve unhappily on his behalf. She strips off her suit and kicks out of her boots, but keeps her underwear on; plain, functional things, maximum support and minimal presentation, no expectations. There’s nothing seductive about her body language, nothing demanding in the way she turns him around, makes him stumble under the spray as she takes in the state of him.
When he lets himself fall, she catches him.
Her voice in his ear is pitched to soothe when she starts: "Pai says –"
"Don’t." He closes his eyes, tired. So, so tired. "I don’t want any lies right now."
None but her hands on him.
The last sound she makes is a sigh.
Slowly and carefully, Amber lowers them both to the tile floor. She lets him clutch at her, bury his face in her shoulder. She runs her hands through his wet hair, brushes it away from his face, gently dislodges filth and matted blood. She draws a sponge across his back, his arms, his chest, his legs and his groin.
He can’t get it up. Hasn’t for weeks.
But Amber doesn’t linger, anyway. She just lets him feel her touch on his body until his body is all there is; until his mind is as empty of emotion as that of a Contractor, of an animal of no particular purpose.
Hei can no longer think of anything more peaceful.