ain't no sleep when the wicked play.

Isa’s smile softened, something fond and a little sad settling in her eyes. “Hey,” she said gently, squeezing Emilia’s hand, “that throne was never what made any of us matter. You don’t have to be a backup anything to be important.” She glanced back toward the ballroom, then returned her gaze to her sister. “You get to choose your life, Em. With Miles. With whoever you want to be. I’ll handle the crown.” A quiet beat. “Just promise me one thing?” Her thumb brushed Emilia’s knuckles. “Don’t disappear on me again. We’ve already lost enough.” --end

Isa huffed a soft laugh, forehead tipping to Clary’s. “Hey—stubborn is a feature, not a flaw. And strategic just means I know which doors to knock on… and which ones to kick open politely.” She sobered a little at the mention of the council, of her parents, fingers tightening around Clary’s hand. “Speaking of parents,” she said gently, “I’ve been thinking about that part. Not the grand, terrifying public version yet.” A pause, careful, respectful. “I was wondering how you’d feel about something smaller first. Inviting them to land for dinner. Just you, me, them. No court. No audience. No performance.” Her thumb brushed Clary’s knuckles, grounding. “Or,” she added, softer but honest, “we wait and do it officially at the New Year’s Eve ball—where tradition already expects announcements and chaos.” A faint, crooked smile. “Either way, I won’t move an inch without you. This only works if you feel safe.” She held Clary’s gaze, steady as a tide. “The council can debate all they want. My parents can have opinions. But this—us—doesn’t start with their permission.”

"I think starting with dinner would be the best option," Clary said. She pulled Isa in more, giving a small sigh. "I'm sorry I'm being so difficult, I don't have the greatest experience with parents. I just don't want you to feel like you have to be in the middle or anything."

Elspeth snorted under her breath, already snapping the tourniquet into place. “Mean? Please. That’s just his love language.” She glanced up at Kira, eyes glinting. “If he bites, I’m charting it as workplace violence and charging him extra.” She took a steadying breath, palpating for a vein. “Alright—quiet, behave, don’t make me look bad in front of the phoenix.” A beat, then, “If this goes south, I’m blaming dehydration and destiny. You’re up next.”

"Maybe we'll get Worker's Comp," Kira joked lightly with a laugh. As Elspeth attempted to put in the IV, Kira grabbed some water for the patient. "Mr. Johnson, you know this'll go far better if you drink water more often," Kira said. "I know you enjoy Nurse Decker's and my hospitality, but it's really better for your health to hydrate more."

"I told you, better than that other place that we usually go to. Isa showed me, and to this day I'm still pissed she knew somewhere that had better tacos," Clary said with a light laugh.