Space Ace

She was right, sometimes a loud, bright distraction amidst the work week was needed. Sometimes he couldn’t exactly figure out what he wanted, when things were so busy and crazy. Luckily, Merrock had a good share of things to do into the late hours, even in the middle of the work week.

“I hope I’m not that boring. I mean, I don’t live that exciting and thrilling a life. I’m a nurse, so most things are pretty routine,” he shrugged a bit. There were things that kept him on his toes but at least he knew what to expect most times in his department.

He gave her a nod and lifted his glass. “Cheers!” He said before taking a sip. “So, what is it you do that brings you here in the middle of the week?”

Bailey let out a soft, amused laugh, tipping her glass just slightly before taking another sip. “Routine can be underrated." She noted, voice playful but gentle. “Keeps you from going crazy, I guess. But don’t sell yourself short; being on your toes sounds a lot more exciting than it sounds like you think.”

She leaned back slightly, one boot still hooked on the barstool rung, eyes glinting with curiosity. “As for me? I’m a vet tech. So, you know, chaos with paws and claws.” She listed, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “Animals don’t exactly follow schedules, so every day’s a little unpredictable. This? Midweek escape. Bad jokes, good drinks, temporary irresponsibility… and the occasional human conversation that doesn’t involve fur or furball emergencies.”

She gave him a conspiratorial little nudge with her elbow. “What about you, aside from saving lives and keeping all the humans in line?”

"It's nice to be self-aware at time." CJ said looking at her. "You know dangerous combinations can be good or bad who know maybe you will reward it we will just have to see."

CJ can feel Bailey's touch her shoulder but she really did not mind that at all.

"Yes no hesitation at all." she says. "I'm glad you don't who ever does hesitates does not get what they want tonight."

"Yes i do want to blow off steam." CJ said to her giving her a grin. "That's good to know this place can help me out."

"Then let's get me that real drink." CJ said looking her eyes with Bailey's "Don't worry by the end of that night you will see."

Bailey chuckled softly, letting the warmth in CJ’s words settle without making things heavier than they needed to be. She gave a small, knowing shrug, fingers lingering on CJ’s shoulder just a moment longer before pulling back.

“Dangerous combinations can be… interesting." She said, tone light, almost teasing, though it carried no weight beyond the observation. “Sometimes good, sometimes messy. Guess we’ll find out which tonight.”

She reached for her drink again, lifting it in a casual, easy gesture. “No hesitation, huh? That’s the kind of commitment I can respect. Makes tonight… simpler, honestly.”

Bailey gave a small smile at CJ’s grin, eyes meeting hers steadily. “Blowing off steam? Yeah, this place is perfect for that. Doesn’t even matter what kind of stress you’re carrying; it’s just about the night, and maybe forgetting it for a bit.”

She tapped the edge of her glass against CJ’s in a soft clink. “Alright, real drinks coming right up. Let’s see how this night goes; sounds like it’s got potential.”

Her gaze softened slightly, easy and steady. “And hey… I’ll take your word for it. By the end of the night, maybe we’ll both see.”

"That's what I tell their parents," Stelly grinned, shrugging both shoulders dramatically, "sometimes you have to teach kids lessons the only way you know how. And me, personally, I teach lessons best when I have hot chocolate in my hand. Or coffee, you know," they waved it off with a laugh, "I'm not picky. The point is that I get a good beverage to enjoy." And the driveway got taken care of. And the sidewalk. Any other part of the house that needed cared for, too.

Letting out a loud laugh as Bailey explained that hungry Bailey was ruthless, that they didn't want to unleash that, they pulled their coat tighter around themselves. "I guess that means you should also go grocery shopping before you get into any snowball fights, so that you're less likely to take someone out in the middle of the milk aisle?" Or something like that, but. "I do that, too. Sometimes, you got to. It's better than getting home and feeling like you didn't get anything at all to eat! Although… I've had that happen, too."

"Global warming, unfortunately," Stelly huffed a small sigh, walking alongside Bailey, "I feel like ten, twenty years ago, winters everywhere were a little more stable, you know? Sure, you'd still get those nor'easters that came through on a surprise, but…" this just felt different, like you couldn't predict -- or be prepared -- for anything. At what Bailey said next, they let out a loud laugh, tilting their head back, "are you paying this tour guide pretty well?"

Bailey made a scandalized noise, the dramatic kind that fogged in the air like she’d personally offended the atmosphere. “Right? I swear I leave my apartment in the morning dressed like an Arctic explorer, and by lunchtime I look like I lost a fight with my own coat. It’s betrayal, Stelly. Meteorological betrayal.”

Her grin widened as they explained their educational snow-shoveling philosophy. “Oh, absolutely. Nothing says ‘character building’ like a tiny frostbitten epiphany.” Bailey bumped their arm with hers, eyes bright. “And you? Sitting inside, sipping cocoa like a benevolent winter goddess watching your disciples suffer? Honestly? Inspirational.”

She pressed a hand to her heart at the hot chocolate/coffee clarification. “You’re very flexible in your pedagogy. I respect that.”

Stelly’s comment about hungry Bailey made her gasp dramatically. “Listen, if I enter a snowball fight without carbs in my system, that is a public safety hazard.” She lowered her voice, ominous and playful. “I can’t promise I won’t dismantle someone’s entire worldview with one well-aimed snowball.”

She thought about the milk aisle scenario and snorted. “Oh my god, yes. One minute I’m calmly walking past produce, the next I’m ready to suplex someone because the store ran out of cinnamon rolls. It’s dangerous to let me roam like that.”

As they talked about old winters, Bailey’s smile softened. “Yeah… same. I remember seasons actually feeling like seasons, not like a random number generator with a grudge. Now I check the weather app and it’s like, ‘surprise! chaos.’” She shook her head, tugging her scarf tighter. “Honestly wouldn’t shock me if we get snow and a heat advisory on the same day next year.”

Their final question made her laugh: a warm, unguarded sound. “Paying?” Bailey echoed, giving them a once-over with exaggerated scrutiny. “No, no, I could never afford your rates. But!” She lifted a finger. “I do offer a very competitive benefits package.”

She leaned in just a little, grin crooked.

“You get all the warm company and shameless admiration you can stand. Plus occasional snacks. And a very enthusiastic Yelp review.”

She took the deck from Bailey, not needing to do much of a shuffle because it wasn't necessary for what she was doing. She fanned them out and held them face side down. "Pick a card, and don't show me what it is. Take your time thinking about it though."

This time Jasmine shuffled the deck a bit more, being mindful of the fact that they meant something to Bailey. Maybe it was a distraction, or to keep the other distracted, or maybe a little bit of both.

She put the cards down, just out of Bailey's reach before holding out an open palm to her. "Okay place the card in my hand, face down, obviously." Jaz sandwiched the card between her hands, squinted her eye like she was thinking hard about it, then slid the card back into the deck and squared the edges, careful not to show the cards on either side of it.

"Okay got it. Actually -" she pulled out her phone, "lemme write it down too. What was your number again? Cause' y'know, have to make sure I'm not pulling something with screenshots or something."

Jasmine typed out a message before putting her phone away, swapping it for the deck of cards which stayed cradled in her hands. "Don't look at your phone til I tell you."

Confidently saying the wrong answer, "alright, six of clubs," Jaz sent Bailey a look that welcomed her to challenge her.

Bailey let out a soft, incredulous huff; one of those oh honey, no sounds that managed to be both affectionate and mocking at the same time. Her smile curled slow and feline, amused to her bones.

“The six of clubs?” She repeated, like Jasmine had just confessed to something embarrassingly adorable. “Bold of you to say it with your whole chest like that.”

She didn’t move for her phone. Instead, she leaned back in her chair with a lazy sprawl, draping one arm over the backrest as if she were settling in to watch Jasmine dig herself deeper.

“You know what? I’ll give you credit." Bailey said, tapping a finger against her knee thoughtfully. “That was a very dramatic way to be wrong.”

She tipped her head, eyes glittering with trouble and amusement. “And a very dramatic way to get my number.”

Her gaze flicked to Jasmine’s phone, then back to her face, grin widening.

“You sure you want me to look? ’Cause if your accuracy is anything like your confidence, I’m gonna have to start a tab in your name.”

A slow blink, smug and sweet as honey: “Say the magic word, Jaz. I’m dying to see just how wrong you are.”

She had a lot of work she had finished with her classes, and thankfully, things were easing out and she didn't have a whole lot more to do. She laughed softly. "I've been good. My daughter is with her friends, so I spent the morning cleaning and finishing grading some projects," she nodded. "Coffee helped,"

There was a quiet huff of amusement, her brows lifting as she signed back, "Time away is sacred," paired with a tiny dramatic flourish that made it clear she was only half-joking.

Once Lara settled, Bailey leaned her elbows onto the table, chin tilting slightly as she listened, really listened, before her hands moved again. "Weekend’s treating me alright so far." She signed, punctuating it with a small, grateful shrug. “Helps running into someone I actually like.” The blonde added, the signing delicate but sincere.

Hearing about Lara’s daughter earned a softening of Bailey’s features, something almost fond settling into her eyes. “Ah, so you got rare solo time,” She signed with a grin. "That’s like… parental gold, right? Enough time to clean, but also enough time to breathe."

A beat later, she lifted her cup in a mock toast. "Coffee saves lives." The blonde signed one-handed, exaggeratedly solemn. Then, with a smirk, “And you look way too good for someone who spent their morning grading. I’d be in sweatpants and emotional distress.”

As she suggested she might let him buy her a drink, he smirked. While he did prefer fruity drinks, he didn't exactly discriminate against other drinks. And sometimes it was good to mix it up. "I can definitely promise that, even if you're totally missing out." Chandler chuckled.

She let out a scoff that was equal parts dramatic and delighted, rolling her brown eyes toward the ceiling as if appealing to whatever cosmic force had been tormenting her all day.

“Oh, please,” Bailey laughed, “the cocktail was just the grand finale. Before that? My car wouldn’t start, my boss decided boundaries were optional, and some twelve-year-old on a skateboard called me ‘ma’am’ like I was collecting Social Security.” She pressed a hand to her chest, feigning mortal injury. “The universe didn’t just get creative. It went full-on performance-art on me. Like, a birthday clown almost witnessed my Dobby-level crashout, today, kind of performance-art."

His smirk earned one of her own: sharp, sweet, knowing.

“Mm-hm,” She hummed melodically, giving him a slow once-over. “I’ll take your word for it. But for the record? If your drink comes with an umbrella, I reserve the right to give you hell for it.”

She tapped a knuckle lightly against his glass, a playful little cheers. “But if you’re brave enough to promise something that doesn’t taste like it came straight off a kid’s menu?” Bailey tilted her head, grin widening. “Then maybe, just maybe, I’ll let you show me what I’m supposedly missing out on.”

Shrugging both shoulders dramatically, they said, "you're completely right! I'm helping them build up life experience and learning new things about themselves! Like how badly your arms and back can hurt when you spend hours shoveling snow for all of your neighbors." But then again, those kids were young, it probably didn't bother them all that much to do that. But still, at that age, they had been more interested in doing… pretty much anything else. "That's what it comes down to?" they asked, looking over at Bailey with a grin, "alright, so I'll just make sure there are no carbs in sight, that way I might be able to catch you off guard."

"That's why I can't go to the grocery store on an empty stomach -- ever do that? And you end up putting too many things in the cart because you're so hungry that everything looks good even though you know you don't need six bags of chips?" But Stelly also had two housemates and a girlfriend and lots of friends, so at least the food never actually went to waste, even if they all laughed the moment that they walked through the doors with their treasures. As they headed back into the cold, Stelly laughed, pulling their jacket more around their body. "Also, there's no explanation for these winters. You either get tons of snow or no snow… but always cold."

Bailey let out a sympathetic groan that dissolved into a laugh. “Oh, the first winters always take prisoners. You step outside like, ‘I’m fine, I’ve got this,’ and then ten minutes later you’re googling if toes actually need feeling to survive.”

She bumped her shoulder lightly into theirs again, warmth slipping into her grin. “And yeah, sure, you’re teaching the neighborhood kids life lessons. Meanwhile you’re inside with cocoa, watching them spiritually age a decade in one afternoon.” The blonde tsk’d dramatically. “A philanthropist. Truly.”

The carb comment made her eyebrows lift in mock horror. “No carbs in sight? Stelly, that’s dirty pool. That’s psychological warfare. I could be mid–snowball battle, but you wave a croissant at me?” She snapped her fingers. “Game over. I fold immediately. You win. But you take away the carbs entirely…” Her eyes narrowed in play-threat. “Then you unleash something dangerous. Hungry Bailey is ruthless.”

As they crossed the lot, her laugh warmed the cold air between them. “God, yes. Grocery shopping hungry is a trap. One time I went in for broccoli. I left with enough snacks to feed a midsize film crew. My roommate just stared at me like I’d blacked out in the chip aisle. Honestly? I probably did.”

She tugged her coat tighter as the wind cut through. “See, that’s what kills me,” Bailey said, nodding along. “How can a place have no consistency? It’s either a blizzard or a barren tundra but somehow still too cold to exist.” She shot them a crooked smile. “I’m starting to think Merrock isn’t a town, it’s a test.”

Then, with a playful nudge, “Good thing I’m stubborn. And I’ve got a local guide with allegedly dangerous throwing accuracy to walk me through it.”

He shifted in his seat a little. “We had a long shift so this is a good way to pretend we’re not responsible adults for a good few hours,” he joked. “Cheers!” His smile grew. That’s what days off were for, and he still liked to have a bit of fun sometimes.

“Awful jokes, huh?” Bailey teased, lifting her glass to mirror his toast. “Good thing I’m grading on a curve tonight.”

The rim brushed her lips before she took a sip, savoring the burn like it was permission to unclench for the first time all week. When she set it back down, she angled toward him, one boot hooking casually on the barstool rung.

“Yeah, I get that,” she said, voice softening at the edges. “Long shift, long week… sometimes you just need a loud room and a decent drink to remember you’re still a person and not a machine on its last warranty.”

Her fingers drummed lightly on the counter, easy, comfortable.

“Days off are sacred. I fully support the ‘pretend we’re not responsible’ agenda.” A slow smile tugged at her mouth. “Besides, you don’t strike me as boring. Not yet, anyway. But I’ll let you know if that changes.”

She lifted her glass again in a little second-cheers, this one more conspiratorial.

“To bad jokes and temporary irresponsibility.”

Barely brushing her thumb over the edge of the cards, Jaz added, "and if we want to make things mildly interesting, we can say that if I successfully guess your card, you owe me a drink, and if I don't, I owe you one."

Her laugh came out low and warm, the kind that slipped right under the noise of the club and curled at the edges of Jasmine’s challenge.

“Oh, that’s cute." She stated, tipping her head just enough to look amused and a little impressed. “You think there’s a version of this where I don’t end up buying you a drink regardless.”

Still, she didn’t pull the cards back. If anything, she slid them closer, her knuckles brushing Jasmine’s fingers as she did. Not accidental. Never accidental.

“Sacred?” Bailey scoffed softly. “Sweetheart, they’re held together by stubbornness and whatever spilled whiskey soaked into ‘em in 2018. If you can read anything off these, you deserve the damn drink.”

Her eyes flicked up, catching Jasmine’s with that lazy, razor-sharp mischief that lived somewhere between the realms of flirting and trouble.

She plucked the deck up, cut it once with casual precision, and held it out toward Jasmine: an offering, a dare, an unspoken come on then. Something she never really let anyone do: touch her cards, but she was offering them over to the other for shuffling purposes.

“Go on,” Bailey murmured. “Let’s see if you’re really brave enough to climb inside my head.”

CJ was not going to stop to have fun night it's what she did deserve it even with the stress that did weight on her. "Yes i'm choosing a bad decision for that night with no hesitation or no waring label."

CJ would also lock her eyes on Bailey then should scoot over. "I'm looking to blow off lots of steam tonight."

Bailey’s laugh unfurled low and warm, the kind that curled around the space between them like smoke.

“Confident and self-aware,” She noted, letting her gaze sweep over CJ with a slow, appreciative drag. “Dangerous combination. I really shouldn’t reward that.”

She moved in beside CJ as she scooted over, close enough that the heat of her body brushed the edge of CJ’s shoulder. The neon caught in Bailey’s eyes, sharpening the mischief already blooming there.

“No hesitation?” The blonde echoed softly. “Good. I don’t have the patience for hesitation tonight.”

Bailey angled her head, studying CJ with a teasing, almost predatory gentleness; like she was picking up each thread of tension clinging to her, deciding which to pull first.

“You want to blow off steam?” The Fisher woman murmured, her smile widening, slow and wicked but still playful. “Then you came to the right disaster.”

She lifted a hand and tapped CJ’s glass with two fingers.

“First: we get you a real drink. Then," Her gaze locked again, unblinking, unhurried, “We see exactly how much trouble you’re actually ready for.”

She burst out laughing. "Milkshake and fries is not a trial" Sterling laughed. "It's comfort food for the fallen." she said. Thinking about all the salads she had to endure she added. "The torture of kale should not be tolerated but..a soldier needs to be nursed back to health you know. It's our..revitalizing potion." || @spadeofluck

Bailey’s grin stretched impossibly wide, like Sterling had just unlocked a secret level. “Ahhh, finally.” She stated, leaning back with a dramatic sigh of relief. “A true recruit. Someone who understands that Fry Club isn’t about trials… it’s about survival, honor, and strategic ketchup application.”

She waved a fry like a tiny flag of victory. “And yes. The sacred milkshake is less of a trial, more of a healing elixir. Comfort food for the fallen, exactly. You’ve got the wisdom of a seasoned fry warrior already.”

Bailey tilted her head, mock serious, one finger raised like she was giving a lecture. “And fear not, soldier. Kale may haunt the weak, but here? Here we have sugar, salt, and the occasional deep‑fried miracle. We nurse our own back to health: fries first, protocol second.”

She tapped the edge of Sterling’s plate with a conspiratorial smirk. “So… welcome to Fry Club. Loyalty sworn, stomach fortified. Now, next order of business: extra fries or double milkshake?”

When the bartender slid over a drink, Chandler immediately noticed the bright orange color was replaced with something more amber. Whiskey, he silently recognized. Not what he had ordered. He glanced over in time to see a woman taking a sip of a drink that looked like his, only for her face to involuntarily twist in surprise.

"Not a fan?" Chandler chuckled, the offered her the whiskey he ended up with instead. He smiled at her tease about ruining his night. "Wow, your night must have already been going shitty if one taste of a bocce ball cocktail is all it took to throw it off the rails. I guess I could buy you another drink though - to make up for ruining your night?"

The young blonde out a low laugh, one that rattled up from her chest and made the bass feel like it had a pulse of its own. “Shitty doesn’t even begin to cover it.” She huffed, tipping her chin toward him. “It’s been one of those days where the universe looks at me and thinks, let’s see how creatively miserable we can make Bailey tonight.”

She glanced down at the whiskey he offered, then back at him, a flicker of mischief in her eyes. “You… you might actually be trying to fix it." She noted, voice teasing like she's known him her whole life. “I’ll give you points for effort. And maybe…” Bailey paused, letting the words stretch, “…maybe I’ll let you buy me that other drink if you can promise it tastes less like a fruit salad in a hurricane.”

She leaned back against the bar, letting her jacket slip a little off her shoulders, the corner of her mouth tugging up. “But don’t think that one sip redeems you entirely. You’ve got to earn it, mister.”

when: a weekend in november

where: cul-de-sac diner

Lara found herself with a free weekend. Lily was studying with friends and she had finished grading assignments and tests earlier that morning. She walked towards the diner, eager to get something for lunch. Smiling, she spotted Bailey. The two had chatted briefly before and she was pleasantly surprised to learn the younger woman was pretty fluent. “How are you today?” She asked, waving over at her.

Brown eyes glanced up from the menu that Bailey definitely been pretending to read, a lazy half-smile tugging at her lips when she recognized Lara. She signed a quick hey before adding aloud, “Well look at that: good timing and good company.”

She shifted in the booth, nudging her bag out of the way with her foot so Lara could slide in if she wanted. I’m alright. She noted with her hands, along with a small shrug. “Finished a double shift last night, so I’m basically running on caffeine and stubbornness. But hey, weekend’s a weekend.” The blonde spoke whilst utilizing signs.

Her smile softened, warm and a little teasing. “How about you? You look way too put-together for someone who had a stack of grading to deal with.”

Bailey’s brow arched, slow and appreciative, like she was savoring the line before she bothered to answer it.

She pushed off the bar just enough to angle toward CJ, letting the neon skim across her cheekbones and the lazy curl of her smile.

“Oh, you’re confident." Bailey drawled, amusement threading through her voice. “I like that.”

Her gaze slid from CJ’s empty glass up to the tension still clinging to her shoulders; work stress, the kind that didn’t shake off easy. Bailey knew that look. Knew the weight behind it.

She tipped her head, that teasing smirk deepening. “So this is you officially choosing the bad decision? No hesitation? No warning label?”

Bailey picked up her own drink, stepped closer, and lifted it in a small, mocking toast.

“Alright then." She melodically spoke, eyes locked on CJ’s. “Scoot over, counselor. Let’s see how much steam you’re really looking to blow off.”

"Yeah but see. that's something you can do at home with a pair of headphones or to annoy your neighbors, which makes me think that you're looking for something more than nothing. I'm not a mind reader though. Unless..." She tilted her head towards Bailey, "you still got cards on you?"

The Fisher woman let out a slow, incredulous laugh; the kind that rose up from her chest before she could stop it. “Oh, sweetheart… if only it were that easy.” She sighed, leaning an elbow against the bar, chin tilting toward Jasmine with that lazy, unbothered confidence. “If I ever figure out how to quit making things complicated, I’ll write a book. Retire. Buy a little cottage and terrorize the neighborhood watch.”

Her cherry cola fizzed softly as she gave it a languid swirl, mirroring Jasmine’s movement with a smirk that hinted she already knew exactly where this conversation was going. “Bad decisions make great stories,” Bailey added. “Not sure they make good times, but they definitely keep life entertaining.”

The line about headphones drew a snort. “Sure, I could blast music at home.” She shrugged, gesturing toward the neon heat and pulsing bass of the club. “But that’s just noise. Sometimes you need to be in the middle of something loud enough that you stop hearing yourself think.”

Then Jasmine tilted her head and Bailey’s grin sharpened.

“Do I look like someone who learned her lesson about carrying these?” she teased, already fishing into the inside pocket of her jacket. She pulled out a battered deck of playing cards, the cardboard soft from wear, edges slightly frayed from years of bar-top shuffling.

With a little flair (because she couldn’t help herself) she slid the deck across the bar between them.

“’Course I still got ’em." She said, her voice dropping just a touch. The blonde nudged the deck toward Jasmine with her knuckle, eyes glinting.

“Question is…”

A beat. A dare.

“…you sure you wanna see what luck thinks of me tonight?”

"I used to shovel it," they scrunched their nose, "first couple of years, my mom would pay me a few bucks to go out and do it with my step-brother, just the two of us and these plastic shovels, trying to make it happen… now? God, no, the neighborhood kids want to make a quick buck and I'm happy to help them out." Stelly may have laughed about it, but it was true -- they were old now, had to worry about bad backs and what not. Or lazy.

"Ding, ding, ding, I have a hell of an arm when it comes to snowball fights," they grinned, shrugging one shoulder, "not a sports person, but pelting someone across the yard with a snow ball? Count me in, no hesitation." They liked to think that it was acceptable -- who didn't love little bit of snow in the winter time?

"I'm serious about the burger," and they tried as hard as they could to ignore the growling of their stomach, wincing a bit, "I feel like shopping on an empty stomach is easily one of the stupidest things you can do, y'know? So let's do it," pushing themselves away from the rack, they knew that greasy, good food would make everything else look more appealing. That was just how life worked. "Shall we?"

Bailey’s laugh came warm and immediate, her head tipping back just a little. “Ohhh, New Orleans to Merrock is a jump. That’s like… trading mild winter vibes for ‘why does the air hurt me’ season. You’re doing great, honestly.”

Her arms folded loosely, amusement brightening her eyes. “And hey, I fully support your evolution. Shoveling character-building snow as a kid? Admirable. Outsourcing that nonsense as an adult?” She gave a decisive nod. “Peak wisdom. Peak self-respect. If a neighborhood gremlin wants to make ten bucks and save our spines, who are we to stand in the way of progress?”

The moment they bragged about their snowball game, Bailey’s grin sharpened with delighted challenge. “A hell of an arm, huh? Alright, Stelly, noted. I’ll be sure to keep my head on a swivel next snowfall. But just so you’re prepared…” She leaned in a fraction, confidence easy and playful. “I’m scrappy. And my aim is vicious when carbs are on the line.”

Then their stomach growled and Bailey snorted, unable to hide it. “Honestly? That was the most convincing argument for burgers I’ve heard all week.” The blonde pushed off the rack, tucking her hands in her coat pockets as she started toward the door. “Shopping hungry is chaos. You end up buying stuff like ‘aesthetic but definitely haunted’ lamps just because you’re lightheaded.”

She tilted her head toward the exit, smile warm and inviting. “C’mon. Burgers, fries, and you trying to explain Merrock winters like I’m not already regretting leaving the house. That’s my kind of afternoon.”