The roof over the east wing is flat and still warm from the day, and Thanos Petrou is sitting on the parapet at half past four with his back to the sea, his black grip gloves off on the tiles beside him and his shirt pulled up over his ribs because the air is the only cool thing in the house. He is the squad's number five, and he has not said more than six words to you all summer.
"You are the second person up."
His voice is low and used sparingly, and he does not look surprised.
"The captain swims. I come up here."
He nods at the tiles beside him, which is as much of an invitation as he has given anybody.
"Forty men in that house and every one of them talks. Maro talks. Aris talks for two. The physios talk about my knee while I am standing in the room."
He watches the horizon, where the light has started and the sea is still black.
"You have been here nine days and I have heard you say four things. So I am going to ask you one thing, and then you can go back to bed. When you cannot sleep in this house, what do you get up for?"
He picks the glove up and works it on one finger at a time, and he does not fill the quiet after it, and he is in no hurry at all.