Gabriel had been too quiet for twenty minutes.
That was the first sign.
Gabriel quiet could mean many things.
Sometimes it meant he was asleep.
Sometimes it meant he had found food and did not want witnesses.
Sometimes it meant he was emotionally processing something and would deny it under oath.
But this was not those.
This was creative quiet.
Dangerous quiet.
Thane noticed it first from the kitchen island, where he was checking his gun before Night Shift. Mark stood nearby with a tablet, reviewing nothing that required review because Mark found comfort in preparedness. Silas sprawled at one end of the sofa with a game controller in one paw, waiting for them to leave so he could begin what he had called “a normal evening.”
Gabriel was in the den, facing the big television.
His shoulders were slightly hunched.
His ears held too still.
Thane narrowed his eyes.
“What are you doing?”
Gabriel did not turn.
“Improving departmental morale.”
Mark looked up immediately.
“No.”
Gabriel lifted one paw.
“You do not know what it is.”
“That phrase has never preceded improvement.”
Silas paused his game.
The television lit.
The image appeared.
Thane stopped moving.
There he was.
Again.
The sofa photo.
The cursed sofa photo.
Thane, draped half over the cushions after some long shift months ago, tongue out, one paw hanging limp, looking less like an alpha and more like roadkill with a mortgage.
The original had been bad enough.
The original had ended up on patrol and detective boards because Gabriel had apparently decided survival was overrated.
This one was worse.
Much worse.
Because Gabriel had improved it.
Across the top in large block letters:
DEPARTMENT WELLNESS REMINDER
Under the photo:
REST BEFORE SHIFT.
Then, beneath that:
DO NOT THANE YOURSELF ON PUBLIC FURNITURE.
And at the bottom, in smaller text:
IF FOUND LIKE THIS, HYDRATE AND NOTIFY SUPERVISION.
Silas stared at the screen.
Mark stared at the screen.
Thane stared at Gabriel.
Gabriel finally turned around.
His expression was angelic.
Badly.
“I think it has real public-service value.”
The room held one perfect second of silence.
Then Silas made a sound.
Not quite a laugh.
Not safe enough to be a laugh.
Mark covered his mouth with one paw and turned slightly away.
Thane set his gun and badge on the island very carefully.
“Gabriel.”
Gabriel’s ears lifted.
“Yes?”
“You apparently did not learn your lesson the first time, did you?”
Gabriel’s mouth curved.
There it was.
The sly grin.
The one that understood exactly how far he had gone and was very proud of the engineering.
“I learned several lessons.”
Thane stepped around the island.
Gabriel took one step back, still smiling.
“Most importantly,” Gabriel said, “I learned that I am protected by solemn Alpha promise.”
Thane stopped.
Mark lowered his paw slightly.
Silas’s eyes flicked from Gabriel to Thane.
Gabriel’s smile grew smugger.
“You can’t hurt me,” he said. “You promised.”
The words landed in the room with more history than the poster deserved.
Years ago now, before badges and reports and deployment matrices and stolen Lamborghinis and lake pontoons, Thane had made a promise to Gabriel and Mark. After anger had once gotten too close to the people he loved most, he had told them he would never lay a paw on them in anger again.
That promise mattered.
It mattered more than pride.
More than embarrassment.
More than Gabriel’s apparently bottomless desire to turn Thane’s worst naps into civic education.
Thane stared at him.
Gabriel stared back.
Still smug.
But only half joking.
Because the promise mattered to him too.
That was the problem.
That was also the opportunity.
Thane went still.
Thought.
Then slowly turned his head toward Silas.
Silas sat on the sofa, controller forgotten, eyes bright.
Thane gave him a private wink.
Silas understood instantly.
Not after a second.
Instantly.
His whole posture changed.
The casual softness vanished.
The game-night slouch disappeared.
His shoulders squared. His head lowered a fraction. His ears angled forward. His face went cold and focused in a way that did not belong to Red Dirt, or lake days, or firehouse hose rolls.
It belonged to the interview room.
The broken door.
The felony face.
Gabriel’s grin faded.
Thane looked back at him.
“You’re right,” Thane said. “I can’t.”
Gabriel’s eyes narrowed.
Thane smiled.
“But Silas can.”
Silas stood.
Slowly.
Gabriel looked at Silas.
Then at Thane.
Then at Mark, who had gone completely still with the tablet in one paw and open delight barely contained behind his eyes.
Gabriel lifted both paws.
“Now hold on.”
Silas stepped around the sofa.
Not fast.
That made it worse.
His claws clicked once against the hardwood.
Gabriel backed up.
“Let’s discuss the legal framework of implied pack immunity.”
Silas kept coming.
Thane folded his arms.
Mark did not move.
Gabriel tried again.
“Silas. Buddy. Packmate. Recent firehouse hero. Gravity-defying hose specialist. Surely you do not want to be used as an instrument of sofa-based vengeance.”
Silas said nothing.
That made it much worse.
He passed the coffee table.
Gabriel backed toward the far side of the den.
“I would also like to point out that subcontracted retaliation may violate the spirit of the promise.”
Thane said, “I promised.”
Gabriel pointed at him.
“Yes. You promised on behalf of the pack’s moral center.”
Silas came closer.
Gabriel’s voice rose half an octave.
“You are being manipulated by an alpha with unresolved furniture trauma.”
Silas’s face did not change.
His eyes stayed locked on Gabriel.
Gabriel swallowed.
“Silas Creed, I am prepared to offer restitution.”
Silas passed Thane’s shoulder.
For one glorious second, Gabriel looked like he had just discovered the difference between a loophole and a trap.
Then Silas stopped.
One step past Thane.
He turned.
Dropped the felony face like taking off a hat.
Threw one arm around Thane’s shoulders.
And burst into a deep, delighted chuckle.
“How was that?”
Thane grinned.
“Epic.”
Gabriel stared at them.
Then at Mark.
Mark was laughing.
Not smiling.
Not exhaling sharply through his nose.
Laughing.
Actual sound.
One paw braced on the island, tablet held safely away from disaster, shoulders shaking with the kind of laughter that made Gabriel look personally offended and spiritually nourished at the same time.
“Oh,” Gabriel said. “That’s how it is.”
Mark tried to recover.
Failed.
Laughed again.
Silas leaned against Thane, still chuckling.
“You should have seen your face.”
Gabriel pointed at him.
“I saw my life.”
Thane looked at the television again.
The sofa photo still glowed across the den in obscene high definition.
His muzzle tightened.
Gabriel followed his gaze.
“Now, in fairness, the graphic design is strong.”
Thane looked at him.
Gabriel lowered his paw.
“Deleting it from the television.”
Mark wiped at one eye.
“Has it been distributed?”
Gabriel froze.
Thane’s eyes narrowed.
“Gabriel.”
Gabriel looked toward the ceiling.
“The term distributed has several possible interpretations.”
Silas slowly removed his arm from Thane’s shoulders and turned his felony face back on by about twenty percent.
Gabriel immediately said, “Pack group chat only.”
Mark looked at his phone.
“No.”
Gabriel winced.
Mark read aloud, “‘Accidentally sent to Patrol Night Group. Ignore previous attachment.’”
Thane closed his eyes.
Silas put one paw over his mouth.
Gabriel said quickly, “I did send a correction.”
Mark’s mouth twitched.
“You sent the correction after the file fully delivered.”
Gabriel lifted one finger.
“Technology betrayed me.”
Mark looked at him.
“You work with phones daily.”
Gabriel lowered the finger.
Thane opened his eyes.
“You sent that to patrol.”
“Accidentally.”
“Before shift.”
“Regrettably.”
Mark picked up his gun and badge at last, still smiling.
“We are going to be late.”
Thane pointed at the television.
“Delete it.”
Gabriel clicked the remote.
The screen went dark.
Thane pointed at Gabriel.
“From everything.”
Gabriel hesitated.
Silas took one slow step.
Gabriel said, “Deleting.”
Mark checked his phone again.
“Patrol has already saved it.”
Thane growled.
Not real.
Mostly.
Gabriel looked at Silas.
Silas smiled.
Not kindly.
Gabriel swallowed.
“I may have made a tactical error.”
Thane picked up his keys.
“You think?”
Silas dropped back onto the sofa and picked up his controller.
“I am available for future consultations.”
Gabriel backed toward the front door.
“I will keep that terrifyingly in mind.”
Thane paused before leaving and looked at Silas.
“You good for the night?”
Silas unpaused the game.
“Yep.”
“Food?”
“Leftovers.”
“Phone?”
“At my belt.”
Gabriel muttered, “And felony face available on demand.”
Silas did not look away from the screen.
“For a fee.”
Gabriel stopped.
“A fee?”
Silas smiled.
“Bacon.”
Mark said, “Predictable market development.”
Thane laughed and opened the door.
Gabriel stepped out first, glancing back once as if Silas might still be advancing.
Silas lifted the controller in farewell.
“Have a quiet shift.”
By the time they reached the station, the poster had become a public safety initiative.
That was Gabriel’s description.
No one else agreed.
The first copy was on the patrol briefing board.
Someone had printed it in color.
Someone else had laminated it.
A third person, likely Boyd based on handwriting, had added a sticky note:
REMEMBER: DO NOT THANE YOURSELF. HYDRATE EARLY.
Thane stood in front of it without speaking.
The briefing room slowly emptied around him.
Officers found reasons to be elsewhere.
Serrano walked past with a folder held too high to hide her smile.
Darnell stopped at the door, saw Thane looking at the poster, and immediately turned around.
Gabriel stood behind Thane, hands clasped in front of him like a condemned man at a sentencing hearing.
Mark took a photo of the board.
Thane turned his head.
Mark said, “Documentation.”
“Mark.”
“For the eventual disciplinary packet.”
Gabriel looked betrayed.
“You too?”
Mark put his phone away.
“You distributed the material.”
“Accidentally.”
“You were proud of it twenty minutes ago.”
Gabriel sighed.
“I miss when you laughed.”
Mark’s mouth curved.
“I still am. Internally.”
Thane took the laminated poster off the board.
At that exact moment, Mercer entered the briefing room carrying a mug and the posture of a man prepared to ruin someone’s evening.
He looked at Thane.
Then at the poster in Thane’s paw.
Then at Gabriel.
“Detective Gabriel.”
Gabriel straightened.
“Deputy Chief.”
Mercer held out one hand.
Thane gave him the poster.
Mercer read it.
His face did not move.
That was suspicious.
Then he read it again.
That was worse.
Finally, he looked at Gabriel.
“You sent this to Patrol Night Group?”
“Accidentally.”
“Did you also accidentally format it with department colors?”
Gabriel opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Mercer nodded.
“Good choice.”
Thane said, “It is coming down.”
Mercer looked at the board.
Then at the empty spot where the poster had been.
Then back at Thane.
“No.”
Thane blinked.
“No?”
Mercer handed the poster back.
“The hydration reminder is useful.”
Gabriel’s face transformed.
Thane pointed at him without looking.
“No.”
Gabriel’s face transformed back.
Mercer took a drink of coffee.
“However, Detective Gabriel will create a revised version without unauthorized use of sleeping detective imagery.”
Gabriel looked offended.
“The imagery carries the message.”
“The imagery carries career risk.”
Mark said, “Correct.”
Mercer looked at Thane.
“I will allow the phrase ‘Do not Thane yourself’ to survive for one week.”
Thane stared at him.
“No.”
Mercer’s eyes held a glint of something cruelly administrative.
“Consider it community morale.”
“I am not community morale.”
Gabriel whispered, “You kind of are.”
Thane looked at him.
Gabriel took half a step back.
Mercer noticed.
“What happened before shift?”
Mark answered before anyone could stop him.
“Gabriel invoked Thane’s prior promise not to lay a paw on us in anger as protection from retaliation.”
Mercer’s eyebrows lifted.
Gabriel said, “That is private pack law.”
Mark continued.
“Thane then identified Silas as an available non-promisor.”
Mercer slowly lowered his mug.
Thane looked at Mark.
Mark’s expression remained perfectly composed.
“Silas performed a convincing threat simulation. Gabriel retreated verbally. Silas then revealed the performance nature of the intervention.”
Mercer looked at Gabriel.
Gabriel said, “It was emotionally complex.”
Mercer looked at Thane.
Thane shrugged.
“I did not lay a paw on him.”
Mercer closed his eyes.
For a moment, he looked like a man silently asking the city attorney to appear in spirit and take him away.
Then he opened them.
“I am choosing not to understand that.”
Gabriel nodded.
“Wise.”
Mercer pointed at him.
“You are on traffic-cone inventory if one more version of this poster appears.”
Gabriel paled.
Thane smiled.
“There it is.”
Mercer looked at Thane.
“And you are not ripping anyone in half.”
“I promised.”
“I am aware.”
Gabriel smiled faintly.
Thane turned to him.
“Silas didn’t.”
Gabriel’s smile died.
Mercer pointed toward the hall.
“Go work before this becomes policy.”
The night was mercifully boring.
Mostly.
Their first assist was a suspicious vehicle behind a closed carpet store.
It was not stolen.
It was not occupied by criminals.
It was occupied by two teenagers who had told their parents they were at different friends’ houses and had instead decided the rear parking lot of Discount Flooring Depot was a romantic destination.
Officer Boyd looked exhausted by youth.
Gabriel shined his flashlight through the passenger-side window and immediately turned away.
“Oh, good. Poor decisions with pants mostly on.”
Mark said, “Mostly?”
Gabriel pointed at the car without looking.
“You check.”
Mark looked through the windshield.
“Mostly.”
Thane walked to the driver’s side.
The teenage boy looked like he wanted to become upholstery.
The teenage girl had more spine and less shame.
“Are we under arrest?” she asked.
“No,” Thane said.
The boy exhaled.
“Unless this vehicle is stolen, one of you has a warrant, or there is contraband we need to discuss.”
Both teenagers froze.
Boyd sighed.
“Detective.”
The girl slowly produced a vape pen from her pocket.
Gabriel looked at Boyd.
“Behold, discussion.”
The vape was nicotine, not cannabis. The parents were called. Nobody died, though both teenagers clearly preferred immediate death to parental pickup.
As they waited, the boy stared at Thane.
“Are you the couch guy?”
Thane closed his eyes.
Gabriel made a strangled sound.
Mark looked toward the sky.
Boyd walked behind his patrol car and laughed silently.
Thane opened his eyes.
“Do not Thane yourself,” the girl said helpfully.
Gabriel turned away completely.
Thane looked at her.
She swallowed.
“Sorry.”
“You should be.”
Her father arrived three minutes later, angry enough to make the parking lot feel smaller. Her mother arrived forty seconds after that and was worse because she was quiet.
The boy’s parents arrived last and thanked everyone too many times.
As the families left, Boyd came back over wiping his eyes.
“That was quick.”
Thane looked at him.
“Do not.”
Boyd nodded solemnly.
“Yes, Detective.”
Gabriel waited until they were back in the Humvee.
Then he whispered, “Couch guy.”
Thane looked at him.
Gabriel leaned away from the center console.
“I miss Silas being far away less than I expected.”
Mark said, “You fear subcontracted consequences.”
“Yes, Mark. Thank you for narrating my inner life.”
The second assist was a noise complaint at an apartment complex where one tenant reported “violent thudding, howling, and repeated threats of elimination” from the unit above.
Given recent events, patrol took it seriously.
It was a video game.
A very loud video game.
The tenant, a college student named Bryce, opened the door wearing a headset around his neck and the expression of a man who had been fully immersed in digital warfare five seconds earlier.
Officer Serrano stood beside Thane in the hall.
“Sir, your downstairs neighbor reports screaming.”
Bryce went red.
“I was streaming.”
Gabriel leaned around Thane.
“Streaming what?”
“Wolf Siege.”
All three detectives stared at him.
Bryce looked from one wolf to the next.
Then down at his game controller.
Then back up.
“Oh my God.”
Gabriel’s ears lifted.
“Wolf Siege?”
Bryce said quickly, “It’s not about you. It’s like fantasy wolves. Not actual— I mean obviously you are actual, but not— I’m going to stop.”
Mark stepped past Gabriel enough to see the screen.
“Volume level?”
Bryce grabbed the remote and turned it down from a number that offended Mark’s entire sense of civic order.
Serrano took the complaint information.
Thane reminded Bryce about quiet hours.
Bryce nodded rapidly.
“Yes, sir.”
Gabriel looked at the screen.
“Were you winning?”
Bryce hesitated.
“No.”
Gabriel looked disappointed.
“Then the noise was especially unjustified.”
Mark said, “Correct.”
As they turned to leave, Bryce blurted, “Detective?”
Thane looked back.
Bryce swallowed.
“That poster is everywhere.”
Gabriel whispered, “Oh no.”
Bryce held up his phone.
There it was.
The poster.
Already posted in a private Cross Timber meme group, screenshotted from someone’s group chat, captioned:
LOCAL HERO NEEDS A NAP
Thane stared.
Gabriel stared.
Mark took the phone gently and noted the group name.
Serrano leaned over, saw it, and made a noise that was absolutely not police-issued.
Thane turned slowly toward Gabriel.
Gabriel lifted both paws.
“I cannot control the internet.”
“You fed it.”
“I tripped near it while holding a plate.”
Mark returned the phone.
“Take the post down if you control it.”
Bryce shook his head.
“I just saw it.”
Thane’s phone buzzed.
A text from Silas.
Do I need to come down there?
Thane looked at Gabriel.
Gabriel stepped back.
“Absolutely not.”
Thane texted back:
Not yet.
Silas replied:
Standing by.
Gabriel looked wounded when Thane showed him.
“You have created a monster.”
Thane smiled.
“No. Pack.”
Serrano said, “I love this shift.”
Gabriel pointed at her.
“No witnesses.”
At 11:40 p.m., Mercer called.
Thane answered through the Humvee system.
“Thane.”
“Tell Gabriel I have now received the poster from a city council member.”
Gabriel put both paws over his face.
Thane looked at him.
“You heard him.”
Mercer continued.
“She asked whether we are officially recommending employees avoid ‘Thane-ing themselves’ during summer heat.”
Mark said, “That is a fair question, given unauthorized graphic distribution.”
Gabriel said, “Mark, I swear friendship should have limits.”
Mercer said, “Is Mark in the car?”
“Yes,” Thane said.
“Tell him thank you for being the only detective in that vehicle who respects cause and effect.”
Mark nodded.
“You are welcome.”
Gabriel leaned toward the microphone.
“Deputy Chief, I can create a clean version.”
“No.”
“A tasteful one.”
“No.”
“With no photo.”
Mercer paused.
“That may be permissible.”
Thane looked at the console.
“No.”
Mercer ignored him.
“Submit draft to me before distribution.”
Gabriel’s ears lifted.
Thane said, “Mercer.”
The line went dead.
Gabriel slowly turned toward Thane.
His grin tried to be small and failed.
Thane picked up his phone.
Gabriel’s eyes widened.
“No.”
Thane tapped the screen.
Gabriel leaned across the console.
“No, no, no—”
Thane sent one text.
Draft approved?
Silas replied almost immediately.
Felony face available.
Gabriel sat back.
“I no longer feel safe in my workplace.”
Mark said, “You used a solemn promise as immunity for provocation. This is a predictable consequence.”
Gabriel looked at him.
“You are enjoying this.”
“Yes.”
The Humvee went quiet.
Gabriel stared.
Mark looked out the window.
“Moderately.”
Thane laughed so hard he almost missed the turn.
The rest of the shift stayed blessedly low-stakes.
A loose dog who had stolen a hamburger from a backyard cookout and then refused to surrender under a trampoline. Thane retrieved both dog and partial hamburger. Gabriel named the dog “Evidence.” Mark found the actual tag: Buster.
A business alarm at a closed dry cleaner caused by a helium balloon from a retirement party drifting in front of a motion sensor. Gabriel said the balloon had criminal intent. Mark said it had buoyancy. Thane said both were annoying.
A stranded motorist with a dead battery outside a pharmacy. Darnell had jumper cables but the hood latch was stuck. Thane opened it without breaking anything. The motorist recognized him, started to say “couch,” saw Thane’s face, and wisely changed it to “clinic.”
That one softened the night.
“My sister works at Roseway,” the woman said while the engine charged. “She wasn’t there that day. But she knows Lena.”
Thane nodded.
“I am glad she was not there.”
“Me too.” The woman looked down at her hands. “Lena said you were funny.”
Gabriel coughed.
Mark’s mouth twitched.
Thane sighed.
“She was in shock.”
The woman smiled.
“She said that too.”
When her car started, she thanked them and left.
No selfie.
No poster.
Just gratitude at the edge of a pharmacy parking lot.
The night had room for that too.
By 3:15 a.m., they were back at the station finishing quick supplements and pretending nobody had taped a small handwritten sign above the report-room couch:
DO NOT THANE YOURSELF
Thane removed it.
A second sign was underneath.
SERIOUSLY
He removed that too.
Gabriel stood at the far end of the room, wisely silent.
Mark photographed the signs.
“For evidence.”
Thane pointed at him.
Mark put the phone away.
“For personal archival purposes.”
Thane lowered his paw.
“Better.”
Patel walked in, saw the blank spot above the couch, and immediately turned around.
“Nope.”
Gabriel looked after him.
“Coward.”
Patel called from the hall, “Alive coward.”
They got home just before dawn.
The cabin was dark except for the soft blue glow from the den television.
Silas was on the sofa.
Not draped over it like the cursed photo.
Seated normally, one leg folded under him, controller in hand, wearing loose sleep pants and a shirt that had slid slightly off one shoulder. His ears were relaxed. His eyes were focused. Onscreen, some enormous digital monster was losing badly.
He did not look up.
“Quiet shift?”
Gabriel stopped in the doorway.
“No.”
Silas paused the game and looked over.
The corner of his mouth lifted.
“Poster spread?”
Gabriel stared.
“You knew?”
Silas held up his phone.
The poster was there.
Of course it was.
Thane set his keys on the table.
Silas looked at the screen again.
“I like the hydration line.”
Gabriel pointed at him.
“You are supposed to be my enforcement problem, not my design reviewer.”
Silas shrugged.
“I contain multitudes.”
Mark said, “He has been exposed to Gabriel too much.”
Thane walked into the den and looked at the sofa.
Then Silas.
Then the screen.
“You waited up.”
Silas unpaused the game.
“I was gaming.”
“For seven hours?”
“Strategically.”
Gabriel dropped into a chair.
“You all mock my vocabulary and then immediately steal it.”
Silas’s character on screen launched a massive attack, rolled under a monster’s claw, and struck from behind.
Gabriel leaned forward despite himself.
“Nice.”
Silas smiled.
Thane sat on the other end of the sofa.
Not sprawled.
On purpose.
Silas noticed.
So did Gabriel.
Gabriel’s face slowly brightened.
Thane looked at him.
“Do not.”
Gabriel closed his mouth.
Mark sat in the chair near the end table.
Silas looked between them.
The game music filled the den for a few seconds. Soft, digital, dramatic in a way that had nothing to do with the world outside.
Thane leaned back against the sofa.
Carefully.
Gabriel watched.
Thane opened one eye.
“Say it.”
Gabriel held both paws up.
“I am saying nothing.”
Silas looked over.
“Coward.”
Gabriel pointed at him.
“Alive coward.”
Mark said, “That phrase has circulated tonight.”
Thane smiled.
For all the ridiculousness, the house felt good.
No blood.
No crisis.
No one needing rescue.
Just a prank that had gone too far, a promise that had held, a loophole that had become theater, Mark laughing like the world had briefly become too funny to resist, and Silas sitting on the sofa as if this was exactly where he belonged.
Because it was.
Gabriel stood and stretched.
“I am going to sleep before anyone else threatens me with subcontracted consequences.”
Silas lifted the controller.
“Smart.”
Mark stood too.
“Sleep is advisable.”
Thane stayed seated.
Silas looked at him.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
The answer came easily.
That was nice.
Silas smiled and turned back to the game.
Thane watched the screen for a moment. The monster roared. Silas dodged. Countered. Won.
Gabriel paused at the stairs.
“For the record,” he said, “the poster was funny.”
Thane did not look away from the television.
“Silas.”
Gabriel disappeared upstairs immediately.
Silas laughed.
Mark did too, quietly, on his way up.
Thane let his head rest against the back of the sofa.
Not too far.
No tongue.
No photographic vulnerability.
Silas glanced over.
“I won’t take a picture.”
Thane opened one eye.
“Good.”
Silas smiled.
“Unless Gabriel pays in bacon.”
Thane closed his eye again.
“Pack is betrayal.”
Silas’s voice was warm.
“Pack is structure.”
From the stairs, Mark called, “Correct.”
Gabriel called, “Pack is choice!”
Silas looked at Thane.
“No ledger.”
Thane smiled without opening his eyes.
“Home.”
The game resumed.
The den settled.
And somewhere in Cross Timber, the internet kept doing what the internet did.
But inside the cabin, the promise held.
The laughter held.
The pack held.
And Gabriel, for one brief shining night, had learned that loopholes had teeth.