TIMING: Current-ish LOCATION: Netherville! PARTIES: Regan and Daiyu SUMMARY: Daiyu and Regan spend some quality social bondage with each other, heading to a burger joint after Shatterspace, where even the burger expert gets surprised.
The scream room at ShatterSpace was not built for something like Regan. She had nearly destroyed it, and not in the permissible way she had paid for. Their soundproofing was woefully unprepared—she’d only screamed for a few minutes before every employee was banging on the walls with tears in their eyes, and the other customers fled from the business without changing from their coveralls. So Regan had stopped screaming, and they refunded her to get her to leave, and the bribe was topped off with a shining top score trophy shaped like a baseball bat (rather uninspired… she would have preferred a femur). Regan never turned down an award or trophy. Most importantly, she usurped Daiyu’s place.
Screaming aside, the “rage room” had felt like a tomb (derogatory) and the tunnels of Netherville that passed as streets only felt like a slightly larger one. Regan never liked coming down here; every sound was amplified, and there were few places to flee to should danger occur. A fire could wipe the neighborhood out. Also, it would only be a matter of time before those who lived here were going to die of some pulmonary fungus if the town’s creatures didn’t get to them first.
Regan carried the trophy one-handed like an actual bat as she and Daiyu went in search of burgers (which were Daiyu’s bones, Regan reminded herself). It hadn’t been a smart idea, spending more time with someone who meant so much to Jade, and especially not with sensitive-eared, human-believing Daiyu. She would likely connect the dots between the screaming today and the noise she’d heard at the Clutch, but Regan was increasingly confident in her ability to explain it away. Most people believed her screaming moose story (it was very believable). She would double down if necessary.
“You really do that all the time?” Regan ran a hand through her hair, neatening it. Every part of her felt scrambled; the echoing of their steps through the street-cave was thick and congealed in her ears. Next time, she was going back to screaming in the woods. In some way, it was reassuring that Jade didn’t care for these “rage rooms” either. Though maybe it would open a door between Daiyu and herself… “I’m sure Jade will be impressed by my first place achievement. Enough to allow me to come hunt with her, perhaps?” She eyed Daiyu sideways, expecting more of an opinion than an answer on Jade’s behalf.
“Where did you say this burger place was? I have never been. It may surprise you to learn I have been inside most stores and businesses in this town.” Regan’s hand found where her name pin usually rested on her breast while working. Her turtleneck was nude today; she was a nobody. “For death scenes.”
—
The rage room had welcomed Daiyu like a home might, she imagined. She had felt something relax in her shoulders. Rick had given her a bright smile at her appearance, which not many people did upon seeing her. She’d changed into the coveralls, pulled back her hair and put on the stupid yet necessary glasses and wished Regan all the luck. They had paid for a normal timeslot, and she had intended to make the most of it. But it had only lasted a few moments.
Regan had opted for a screaming room and screamed she had. Daiyu new loud sounds. They came from guns and cars and speakers. They came from beasts, too, and humans at times. But this kind of volume? She had been unprepared for. Clasping her ears, she’d ran outside of her room along with plenty of others, feeling disoriented from the ringing in her ears and overwhelmed from the sound. A part of her had connected this scream to the one that had rang out at the egg place, but at that point she had not been at capacity to think things like this over. She had been at capacity to be outraged that Regan was given a trophy and she was not, which was totally unfair considering the way she had been top of the scoreboard plenty of times.
Stomping through Netherville, she tried to be graceful about this. But grace was a trait that had skipped all the generations in her family, and especially her. She was a sore loser. She was frustrated that she hadn’t been able to smash a television. She was hungry, too, but that was hardly new. Her ears were ringing, still. She did not understand where Regan held the space in her chest to make such loud noise.
“Yep,” she said. Regan mentioned her first place achievement and Daiyu wanted to punch a cave wall. “It is a healthy coping mechanism. I have … anger … in me.” She did not say anger issues. It wasn’t an issue, most of the time. “And it helps with that. Besides, something cool about the lack of consequences.” Which lack? There were consequences, like being upset over losing. “Yes, she’ll be super impressed. I don’t think screaming that loud means you can come on a hunt, though. By the way, do you have weird lungs?”
She turned a corner, nodded forward. “It’s just up ahead. Guess most things here are pretty new, considering the whole neighborhood is. In a way.” Netherville was weird, but not entirely intolerable. Daiyu looked at Regan for a moment, then shrugged. “Makes sense. Do lots of people die in shops, then? What’s the most common place?” She figured it was the woods, but she was probably biased. “I looked. They have vegetarian and chicken options.”
—
Regan wasn’t sure how breaking things transferred internal anger out of the brain. She supposed that was catharsis. It was not something banshees required… or maybe the frequent screaming had a similar effect, like good nutrition keeping deficiency at bay. “Is your anger external now, then? You’re stomping a lot.” She raised a brow at Daiyu, but the question was serious. “If it still plagues your brain, then I don’t understand the purpose of the destruction.” Unlike the screaming, which was at least a more literal pressure valve. And Jade’s slaying, which was her own way of protecting the sanctity of death. Regan was still undecided on the… hunting Daiyu had described herself engaging in.
She followed Daiyu down the street, taking in the shops that had all been built within the span of a year. It was better not to look up. When she looked up, she saw the top of the cave looming too close. How many bones would a scream shatter? How many stalactites would fall? “I think it should qualify me. All I would have to do is stay out of the way, yes? I’m not asking to destroy the same things as Jade.” She and Jade both knew Regan also wouldn’t stay on the sidelines if something swiped its claws too close to Jade. Sometimes Regan was even tempted to offer a promise, but it was too easy to imagine herself thrashing against those vines and thorns. “Hey, what did you—” Weird lungs? How dare she? “My lungs are among my finest qualities. Impressive capacity, excellent volume, no doubt a stunning pink.” Jade agreed. They had discussed the presumed appearance of each other’s lungs more times than Regan could count.
“This is the place, right?” Despite the newness of the neighborhood, the door to The Bunderground was dark and greasy when Regan pushed it open. She frowned at her hand, wishing she’d worn gloves, but held the door for Daiyu. And, oh, death! Daiyu was willing to engage her in death-related bondage. This was good. When they were painting the eggs (before Regan screamed everything to pieces), that was some of their most successful intercourse.
It was dark inside—though no more than aboveground pubs—but Regan’s trophy retained its eye-catching shine. At least, she assumed it was eye-catching, because Daiyu’s eyes kept catching on it. And Daiyu was still stomping. Perhaps that was simply her gait and Regan had failed to notice prior. It also smelled like animal fat inside, and not the rotting kind (unfortunately). Regan slid into one of the booths because no one stopped them from seating themselves.
“The bodies!” Regan set her trophy down with a clunk and smacked her palms against the table. Daiyu seemed attentive. “The shops are quite deadly in town, and what they sell is mostly irrelevant. The majority of the bodies we find are Downtown—Amity Road is a hotbed for death, but they’re distributed throughout. Locals, tourists… and there’s the woods, of course. You probably read about a new body found there every week.” Her enthusiasm drained slightly at her next thought. “Many were missing persons, sometimes for weeks or months. Those are some of my favorite cases to resolve, but they’re often only bones by the time we recover them.” Her fingers curled against the table, nails scraping the wood. “And recently, someone is moving them. At times removing them. I do not mean a perpetrator. Most of the time these deaths are accidental in manner, not even homicides.” How many times had a decedent honored Regan with the last moments of their life, only for her to have found them nowhere near where they died, their clothes changed or hands cleaned? Dozens of times now. “I will find who is responsible and they are going to answer for the pain they’ve caused the living and disrespect they’ve inflicted upon the dead.” She huffed and crossed her arms, freeing the table. If there really was something to catharsis, she probably needed more of it.
She soon distracted her hands with one of the trifold menus tucked between the condiments (mostly mayonnaise) and napkin holder. “I see the chicken, but how does this work? Your burgers. I want to be respectful.” Her finger traced down a very long list of options. “Do you try them all? We might be here for a while. And as a doctor, I must advise you against getting this… cave moss burger?” She flipped the menu toward Daiyu. There was an image of it. Even the bun was greenish (a nice color to be sure, but not one indicative of health).
—
Daiyu whipped her head to the side to look at Regan, indignation painting every inch of her face. Where did she get off, pointing out how obviously pissed off she was? Regan had not seemed like the type to rub someone’s face in it when they lost, but maybe she was. A sore winner, which was really the worst kind of winner for her (a sore loser) to be around. “You cut short the destruction, remember?” There was a bite to her voice and she stared down at the way she was walking. “The stomping is because of my boots. They are meant to be stomped in. Duh.”
She was getting really tired of humans butting their heads in where they weren’t needed. That included Madison, who was a hunter on a biological technicality but not in many other significant ways. Daiyu didn’t understand why these people wanted to be involved in the murder and carnage. And while culling spawns in a cemetery had its fun sides, she didn’t think Regan should be there. Not that it should be her battle, circus or monkey, though. “I still think you can be a getaway driver at most. Those are very important. A speedy getaway is one of the best things you can have. And I thought lungs were purple. I bet you can hold your breath for a fucking long time.”
The question whether the Bunderground was the place seemed rhetorical, so Daiyu did not give it a proper reply. She felt some excitement enter her system though, mixing with her anger and frustration with Regan. A new burger place was always enough to lift her mood at least a little, and she was glad that the two of them had decided to make this a two-part activity. The egg-painting would definitely have been improved by a secondary location (with fried food and sugary drinks).
Regan put down the trophy with such a definitive clunk that Daiyu could only glower at her. She really was a pathetic, sore loser, rubbing her face in the trophy. She could be more subtle about it or put it in a bag, but no, she just kept pulling her attention to the trophy by letting the light shine on it, by making sounds with it. She ground her teeth as Regan started speaking excitedly, gaze moving slowly from the trophy to the other as she tried to follow the conversation. “Bodies in the woods,” she repeated with a drawl, thinking of the ones she’d come across. Humans half devoured by beasts and shifters. Campers, hikers, boy scouts. She hated the last category most. As Regan spoke of someone moving bodies, her interest piqued a little. Daiyu knew people who moved bodies. She moved them, from time to time, but more often called Eve to do it for her. “Damn… so weird, that someone’s moving the bodies. Got any clue as to why?” She did not understand Regan. If she worked with the dead, she had to see how many died from strange causes, right? And yet the concept of a werewolf was completely outrageous to her. “Especially if they’re accidental as you say. Many of those here, huh?”
She frowned at Regan. “No,” she shook her head. “Would love to be able to try ‘em all, but I tend to just go for a beef burger and review it. Sometimes two, if I got a big hunger.” Her frown deepened. “Gross. I won’t be getting that. These fucking restaurants, trying to improve on what is already a perfectly good meal. Adding all these strange ingredients. Go into fine dining, you know? Anyway, I also tend to get a milkshake, a coke and some fries. Maybe some sides too.” She grabbed a menu for herself. “I love chicken nuggets. Named my dog after them, you know. Damn, fried root vegetables … do they just mean potatoes?”
—
“No cave moss burger, then.” Regan would have relaxed slightly if she knew how. This was good, because Regan wasn’t sure her oath would allow her to sit there watching Daiyu consume it. Even though Regan wasn’t completely sure what ‘normal’ was when it came to burgers, Daiyu was experienced in this field. Which, it shouldn’t have been surprising that Daiyu named her animal after chicken nuggets. Humans had the tendency to do that—name things after what they care about. Jade was not subtle about her own auricular naming conventions, and Jade’s parents had one of their own. “Then we should get sides. Um, yes, probably potatoes. I don’t think carrots are typically served with burgers, but it’s been many years since I’ve been somewhere like this as a consumer. Things change.” In just a decade, the blink of an eye for banshees; she didn’t want to think about how much more change she’d see, even if inconsequential. “I would have a milkshake if you’re getting one. And if that’s what most people would do in this situation.”
When the waitress came to take their order, Regan let Daiyu take the reins—again, this was her area of expertise. Her morgue. Maybe those boots would stomp around less if Daiyu got to exercise some of that skill (probably not; she had anger in her). Besides, Regan was only half paying attention to the woman or the menu, the waitress’s question about a special glazing right off her. Was that all Daiyu thought Regan could be, too? A getaway driver? When the waitress left them again, Regan shook her head, still stuck on that very specific point.
“I need to be more than the getaway driver. I want—she won’t even allow me to do that, anyway. And we have these dots, now. The—here, I’ll show you.” Regan pulled out her phone and opened the Jade app (it had a real name that Regan didn’t bother to remember). She turned the cracked screen toward Daiyu so she could see the Jade Dot zooming around, currently a nice bile-esque chartreuse. “She has a dot for me, too. I keep requesting a square instead, but—right. She thinks I will drop the subject now that I can see where she is. And it is reassuring. It does help. But I can’t just sit at home and not know if she’ll be returning in one piece. Or… or knowing she will not be returning at all, but being unable to be there.” Daiyu, Regan knew, did not seem to possess any interest in romantic relationships. She probably never had to navigate these irreconcilable waters. Either her outside perspective would be valuable, or she wouldn’t understand the problem at all. Not that Regan was especially willing to listen to certain perspectives (only the agreeable ones).
She could hold her lungs for a long time. Longer than it took a person to drown. It felt like that was all she did these days, even when not trying to force down a scream. “I’d know. If she were going to die, or were dying, I would know. Just like I know when the bodies have been moved—some náire trying to conceal evidence. Not that the cadavers can move by themselves when dead. So when there is any indication of a secondary scene, one can assume—”
Several plates were practically dropped in front of them on the table, burgers and fries steaming, fatty smell making Regan’s eyes go wide. The waitress then set four bottles of mayonnaise on the table in case the ones by the menus were not sufficient. Were they supposed to coat the entire meal in mayo? Then, finally, the milkshakes. Regan was more interested in that than any of the food. “This is a—I did not realize the portions are so generous. Will you be able to eat all of this? Right, I was saying—when there is evidence that a body has been moved—”
One of the burgers started dragging itself to the edge of the plate, leaving a shiny trail of greasy fluid streaking across the plastic.
—
Daiyu ordered with practised ease, suddenly not as socially inept as she usually was. She was good at the repetitive stuff, at attempting to be normal if only because there was a good reason for it. With Regan, it wasn’t like she wasn’t trying, though it seemed somewhat easier to talk to her than with most, even if the other was wildly confusing. Still, she seemed to have the same bluntness that Daiyu possessed, and for that she liked talking to the other. Once the waitress had written down the rather impressive order. Two milkshakes, two cherry cokes, burgers, sides, extra sauce. She had quite the appetite, even if her rage room activities had been cut short. Moreover, she was excited to share food with Regan. That was one of her main ways of bonding. It certainly surpassed egg painting and losing at the rage room.
As they waited for the food, Regan showed her a tracker app that she and Jade had. Daiyu frowned at the concept of it, feeling something crawl between her shoulder blades. The thought of someone knowing where she was at all times felt too much like how she’d felt at home. She supposed that for Jade and Regan it felt like some form of control in a town that liked to send people to an early grave. She figured it was the best Jade could do besides dragging Regan into a world of hunting. And while killing vampires was a somewhat cleaner job than killing shifters and beasts, it was still not something for the average person to be partaking in. Not that Regan was average.
“Guess it’s frustrating if you’re not used to it,” she offered, hoping that came off sympathetic, “But that’s … our baseline. For hunters, you know. Any time you say goodbye to another one it might be the last time. Sucks, but it’s realistic. Guess that’s the case for every person, anyway. Especially in this town, with all that seems to be going on. But this tracker stuff is good. It’ll …” She swallowed the rest of her words, which wanted to point out that it would make it easier to find Jade, should something go awry. “She’s good at what she does, Regan. Getting out with only an arm injury during that … blackout shit, whatever it was, that’s good.”
The food was a welcomed distraction. Daiyu didn’t know how other hunters did it: get involved with those that weren’t hunters. The fear of losing people was present with friendships too, but a partnership like Regan’s and Jade’s? That was tough to navigate when one half was battling a lethal duty. She reached for a few fries and shoved them in her mouth, letting the salt carry her over into easier territory. “The mayo portions are definitely outta this world but —”
She stopped, the nugget she’d been transporting to her mouth frozen in mid-air. A burger was starting to move, seemingly trying to topple itself off the edge of the plate it was on. Daiyu snatched it after dropping the nugget, holding it in front of her face. It seemed to not like being held. “That’s not normal,” she said, cocking her head to look at Regan. “That is … that’s not normal.” She nodded at her banana milkshake, which was leaking.
—
Daiyu was probably trying to make her feel better. Normally, Regan favored bluntness; her next of kin deserved better than euphemisms and feel-good lies. In this case, though, Regan had to suppress a flinch as Daiyu tackled the topic of Jade’s lifespan—of any active hunter’s lifespan. Regan and Jade were bone partners. Regan would love Jade in death just as she’d loved her in life. Almost every conversation had some mention of death, and it was often one or both of their own deaths. Increasingly, it seemed that Jade was teasing her bones in an effort to cheer Regan up; Regan could read the intent: we’ll be together for eternity, you won’t lose me so quickly, think of my bones in the ground and let’s have sex. It never worked. Mostly, it left her wondering if she had done something wrong in how she discussed death with Jade. Not everything beautiful was joyous.
Regan didn’t want to even think about losing Jade. “Losing”. That was a euphemism, wasn’t it? Regan glanced down at the vanilla milkshake that’d been set in front of her. Probably only failed banshees drank milkshakes. She took a sip. (It was decent, which was what a failure would think.) “Being good at doing something deadly is still doing something deadly. Not that—she is good. I know she is. And I know that her being out there saves lives. That selflessness and bravery are two of the things I love about her. But maybe I want to be selfish about something.” She’d sampled the milkshake; her banshee reputation was already in dire straits. That comment surely sent it to the ED. “She’d stop. If I asked her.” Regan wouldn’t.
The burger was approaching the edge of the table. It paused instead of continuing off and falling, and Regan couldn’t help but wonder if it was some creature using those sesame seeds as ocelli. “So is it—is it alive? Also your milkshake—did I do that?” Had she managed to crack the glass? When—how? That kept happening. Daiyu had spared her from needing to ask if this was normal burger behavior… they didn’t normally have behavior. Regan raised an arm and tried to flag the waitress, but no one saw and the burger was becoming more active if anything. “What do we do what do we do what do we…” Her eyes fell on the trophy.
Wasn’t this the perfect opportunity to prove to Daiyu—a hunter—that she could handle herself in a pinch? It would definitely get back to Jade. Possibly from both of them. Regan grabbed the trophy and braced it in front of her, the metal cold against her fingers. This was not a normal animal. Probably not one at all. It was abnormal and likely malignant. But she couldn’t bring herself to start slamming the trophy down on the burger; she stood there, staring and gripping it. If the burger was somehow alive and harmless, she didn’t want—she saw the trail of ketchup tracked across the table. The alley, the wall. The spattered stains of Pubik’s blood she’d tried to wash out of her shirt five times before opting to throw the sweater out entirely. The trophy fell from her fingers and made a loud clang as it hit the floor, narrowly missing a foot. And the burger leaped.
—
Daiyu found that a startling thought — that Regan might ask Jade to stop hunting and that she would. She figured every hunter had considered it, stepping out of the life they had been told was their destiny, fate or duty. To turn their back on the violence that had been imposed on them and live a life of attempted normalcy. She had tried it, almost a decade ago now, but she had not managed. But she was not Jade, and she had not had someone like Regan in her life. She grappled with it for a moment and identified that the feeling that was coursing through her was envy. Jade could stop. She would probably find a way to give life meaning. To make due. To keep herself afloat.
“And would you? Ask her?” She felt something acidic rise to her lips and she hated how she could not just be happy that Jade had this. A life raft for a life without hunting. How she had managed to have something steady with someone who was not a hunter, which was probably a key ingredient for walking away from this life. Daiyu no longer thought about giving up on hunting as an option, but she resented that it was one for Jade. She resented that she selfishly did not want Jade to step away from it, because that might mean she’d abandon her too.
A sip from the milkshake or a bite of a nugget would help right about now, but Daiyu saw no opportunity to take a bit or sip from anything. The food was acting weird. “Unless you’re a … dairy witch of some weird shit, no you did not do that.” She dropped the burger, which had been struggling in her grasp and watched as it continued to move. She racked her brain for knowledge on beasts that infested food or some strange parasitic thing that could explain this, but came up empty. Magic, stupid fucking magic, that was probably the answer. She continued to watch the milkshake fizz over and the burger drag itself around as Regan was stressing out, mildly confused and somewhat intrigued.
All in all, it was harmless. Strange, considering the magical state of the town, but not hurting anyone. Except for her appetite, of course, which was going to wind up making her grouchy, but for now she was mostly intrigued. Daiyu looked up when Regan started moving, watching her hold up the trophy like a weapon. Eyebrows creased and she would have been amused was it not for the expression on Regan’s face. She leaned back in her seat, ready to witness what would happen to their potentially possessed food when the trophy slammed down, but nothing happened. Not to the food, at least. The trophy fell down, the burger jumped off the table and Daiyu just stared at Regan for a moment. “Oh …. kay.” She rubbed at her forehead, had her attention snatched to the milkshake which had tossed itself on its side. “Hey Regan, you good? No need to … hey, you ever dined and dashed? Or well, just dashed, we haven’t dined.” She had no idea what the other’s issue was, but she didn’t feel like this was conductive to their relationship. She got out of the boot, bend down to grab the trophy. For a moment she hesitated, before snatching the burger as well. Extending the former object, she looked up at Regan. “Maybe we skip this one.”
—
Regan understood enough about Jade’s background and childhood to be able to extrapolate what some of Daiyu’s might have been like—the expectations she could have been raised with and the sense of duty scarring her anatomy. Jade hadn’t even realized quitting was an option, couldn’t fathom it. It was possible Daiyu didn’t either. Even now that Jade’s duty was more malleable, Jade was still some kind of lost without being able to slay. Regan had seen it. She understood duty and what asking to forgo it did to a person, or a thing. But who liked the idea of their loved one throwing themselves into danger on a nightly basis, however mundane or… not? Regan’s duty did not attempt to kill her (there was no reason to bring up the Dullahan, moving along); comparisons fell flat in that regard.
“No, I would not ask her. It is no more a mere occupation than my duty. But if…” There were circumstances Regan could imagine, ones that had already once come close to breaking them. “There is a line, and on one side there are beating hearts, and my dead. On the other, her… what she hunts. I would not ask her to stop, but if that line is crossed, I believe the decision has already been made. Then there is only one outcome.” She swallowed, eyes brushing away. Brushing Pubik away, too, though the stench of pickles lived inside her nose now. “Jade knows this. There is no need for further discussion.” She turned her attention back on Daiyu. “Why do you ask?” She doubted Daiyu would admit to what Regan suspected—that some part of her wanted to be asked to stop. A demand, more like. Regan understood. There were times, both in Saol Eile and even here, where she’d picture a pair of hands wrapped around her wrists, the blade falling from her grip. And Regan had been her own victim; Daiyu’s blade was turned outward.
The milkshake was bursting now, popping like an egg (which was something that did apparently pop around the two of them), leaking foamy sugar across the table, washing away the trail of ketchup. Regan’s attention was pointed down. The burger slugged across the floor like a slower version of one of those round vacuums, except instead of cleaning, it was dropping sesame seeds and onions all over the place. Her brain offered multiple lies: mice were carrying it away; animatronics; there’s a really strong breeze in here, underground, isn’t there? Her heart wasn’t in it (metaphorically; her heart never actually strayed from her abdominal cavity). So a burger was moving across the floor, and she did not know how or why, and it was currently trying to compress itself through an AC vent. (Jade would have enjoyed watching a video; she still had a soft spot for that compression phenomena.) The trophy had rolled slightly away from the booth, its bat shape curving its trajectory.
“What?” Regan blinked, feeling Daiyu’s eyes burn over her. Daiyu was waiting for some kind of reply. “Oh, yes, I’m… the trophy slipped. It’s fine. I’m fine. Not that—I am not clumsy, mind you. I am very good with most any tool placed in my hands. My hands are widely praised, or they would be if my decedents could talk, and, well, Jade’s praise is of a different—but the burger, I suppose I was, um, surprised. That’s all.” She studied the empty space on the other side of her rather than Daiyu, but Pubik’s facsimile was absent—he was only harassing her inside her head today, but perhaps that was always the case anyway (Regan remained unconvinced of other possibilities). “Are you referring to the Doordash? Jade delivers for them,” she said blankly. “I should go pay. For the—oh, that’s what you meant by…” Daiyu reappeared at Regan’s side with a squirming burger in one hand and the trophy—now covered in grease—in the other. Regan accepted it, but it was hard to look away from the burger. “Thank you. Are you, um, keeping that?”
Regan spared one glance back toward the table, where all of the bleeding smears of condiments had been drenched away in milkshake. She was not sure which mess was worse. She knew what ugliness was there before the shake had destroyed the evidence. Regan forced her eyes away, back on Daiyu. Her grip on the trophy tightened, though she wasn’t sure she deserved to take home a prize for her destruction anymore. “Yes, let’s leave. But we are paying for that. And if it bites you, I am taking you to urgent care for post-exposure prophylaxis.”
