Dean was, in all honesty, one of the very few people Kathryn had truly, deeply missed during her years away. For a long time she had felt for the most part neutral about him. He wasn't even a scientist, and his contribution to the experiment was limited. But the man came from good stock, that much was obvious, and his enduring dedication to his loved ones and the concept of family had helped Kathryn's respect for him take root, strengthened by his support when her life there had been at its roughest.
Most of her friends at the time had been afraid of her husband, and the hypocrite had almost managed to prevent her from having this one bit of joy in her life, this friendship that had meant so much to her. Without that obstacle to stop her now, she walked through the theater's foyer and into the room someone directed her to, looking forward to seeing Dean again in the flesh. No amount of emails did justice to real conversation, and when she saw him cleaning the stage up, she knew it had been worth the walk there.
"Knock knock," she called out while she crossed to the base of the stage, peering up to where Dean stood in front of what appeared to be, from her angle, a menagerie of badly shaped sculptures.