The city doesn't stop for them. It never does. But for a few minutes, over tea and noodles in a market that's already moved on to someone else's story, Voss and Gaff sit still — and that stillness says more than either of them does out loud.



Gaff has spent this series hiding two ways: through absence, through camouflage. Here, for once, he's neither gone nor disguised. Just present, folding something into the conversation that Voss will have to unfold later. That's the shape of What Gaff Said — not a confession, not an answer. A recognition. The way one instrument knows another by the frequency it's tuned to.



THRESHOLD continues.