Nolan walked slowly to the grave, face neutral, his focus set. It was a crisp autumn day, slowly turning into a cool evening and he felt the air against his cleavage and through the nylon of his pantyhose. He had gotten used to such feelings over the last few days and paid it little mind. That was not where his mind was at.

He saw the tree and walked three graves in from center on the right. There it was, Amelia Colson. He put a feminine, gloved on the grave as he knelt slightly. It was oddly plain, no decorations, just her name and her date of birth and date of death.

Only twenty-five when she died, he noticed. Too young to be dead, but a broken steel cable that was under tension knows no age, something he also knew all too well. A pity it ended up like this, with her dead and his head grafted onto her body to save his life, but he had literally no control over those events.

He stood there for a few moments, then walked away, satisfied. He had paid his respects to her and he saw no point in lingering in a cemetery any longer than he needed to. Time to go.