Episode 42 - The Visitor With Shoes Too Loud

He arrived without an appointment.

Through the front door. No flicker. No warning. Just a man in khakis and a windbreaker, blinking at the reception area like someone arriving too early to a job interview he never prepared for.

He looked… normal.

Aggressively so.

Tan, short-cropped hair. Polite smile worn thin at the edges. Sunglasses pushed up on his head like he’d forgotten they were there.

He didn’t belong.

Not because the station rejected him—

Because he didn’t know not to belong.

“G’day,” he said, with that familiar Perth drawl Olivia hadn’t heard in years.

She froze.

“Olivia, right? It’s me. Jack. You remember.”

She did.

Her spine remembered first.

Then her ears flattened slightly, instinctively.

“Jack,” she said slowly. “What… are you doing here?”

He looked around.

“This place said you were working reception. Thought I’d stop by. Catch up. Been years!”

His grin widened.

He wasn’t dangerous.

Just… disruptive.

All edges and noise in a station built on rhythm.

He laughed too loud.

Clapped the desk once. Leaning in too close. Too bright, too fast, too sure of himself.

“I didn’t know you were still doing the Furry thing! Ears look great. Must be a pain to glue on every day though, huh?”

Behind him, Monitor 6B flickered. The cartoon dog showed teeth.

Olivia breathed slowly.

“These are real,” she said.

Jack barked a laugh. “Still in character, huh? You always were a bit intense. Thought you grew out of that.”

She did not move.

But something in the station did.

Bernard had stopped floating.

Miss LaDonna had appeared in the hallway with a teacup and no warmth in her gaze.

Charles was halfway out of the breaker room, holding a large wrench labeled “In Case of Mundanes.”

Jack kept going.

“I mean, hey, I’m not judging. Just thought maybe we’d grab coffee or something. Catch up. You remember that bar on Murray Street? You used to love that place.”

“I didn’t,” Olivia said.

He blinked.

“I liked the tea shop next door,” she said, flatly.

“Oh,” Jack replied, unsure for the first time. “Right. Well, same diff.”

The station shuddered slightly. Not violently. Just… firmly.

Jack’s sunglasses fell off his head. He missed catching them. They landed on the rug and vanished.

“Okay, that’s—what the hell?”

He stepped back, into the exact place where the rug used to be.

Which now wasn’t a rug at all.

It was a small hatch.

It clicked open.

And from it emerged—

A face pale as ash and calm as stone.

One long torso with arms to match,

Legs that extended much further than they should have,

Two silent boots.

Lurch.

He looked directly at Jack.

And rumbled:

“Out.”