Inside Perry’s hotel room, two women were failing the Bechdel test.“The front desk didn’t report him leaving,” said one of the two women. Her name was Dolores, no last name given when her partner referred to her. “So where’d he go?”“Front desk could be lazy, inattentive … covering for him,” said the other woman. She was Middler, which was probably a last name, but the only name that had been mentioned.“It’s a surprisingly empty room, for a man who’s been staying here several days,” said Dolores. There were sounds of things being moved around. “No clothes, no toiletries, not a satchel, like he cleared out before we got here.”“Except that the front desk did see him come in,” replied Middler. “Confirmed.”“Confirmed,” Dolores repeated.Perry was on the outside of the building, pressing himself up against it with the sword. His fingers were touching the glass of the window, the better to get audio from inside. He hadn’t thought to leave a listening device in there, though maybe it was better that he hadn’t, because it would give them something to find. Besides, it would only have worked properly while he was in the city with Marchand to listen.“So what’s the next step?” asked Middler. “Wait?”“I’m not doing a stakeout, not when there’s no body, not when we don’t even know if their guy is dead,” said Dolores. “If the K-men want that, they can go hang. And you saw this guy fight, I’m hoping we don’t have to fight him.”“We’re just here for information,” (...)