#d1c4af

Spirit decides to pregame with Vanya, leaving the two men who've never met before to arrive separately and solo. The girls get to the restaurant early and tipsy - dolled up and, quite frankly, beautiful. Vanya catches a few pairs of eyes.

Vanya helps Spirit order a wine bottle for the table - or, at least, the people at the table drinking. If she's upset about seeing Deco again, she's being a remarkable sport. Still, Spirit feels compelled to fill the air with idle and anxious chatter.

Spirit doesn't know what she believes in. God is complicated. Gods are complicated. If real, these beings allowed — among, you know, everything else that happened on earth before and while Spirit was in captivity — the torture and murder of hundreds of children, perhaps in the name of some greater good, but ultimately all for nothing, because those same beings then allowed Spirit and her family an opportunity for vengeance.

And wouldn't these beings have something to say to the aimless, unsatisfied deceased? When they cry out for their god, why does no one talk back? Or — or — are there more ghosts in heaven that Spirit's radio brain can't hear?

It makes her head hurt, her chest ache. She doesn't like feeling these things while they lie in bed together, Sasha watching her with his head propped in his hands. His broad chest is still bare; all she sees is curly hair and the Star of David chain around his neck.

"You are not. He's a fucking dick, and he doesn't deserve you. Fuck, how many times do I have to say it? Nobody deserves you! — No man, at least."

Suddenly, she s very serious. She leans over the jewelry counter, earning looks from Vanya's coworkers. (She's at least self-conscious enough to tug her dress down — revealing more of her chest but at least covering up her panties.)

“What? Don’t be silly. I like you guys.”

She’s still speaking in that slightly pitchy customer service voice, but there is something sincere in her smile. She does like Sasha, his friends. They can be loud, but they are always polite to her, and they never make too much of a mess. 

Maybe Sasha is approaching a sort of wariness to all of this that Juniper can’t understand, would only understand if she hadn’t adopted a policy of not hearing when it comes to Harris's own less-than-savory activities.

"Oh, honey. You can cry in front of me. And I'll fix your makeup up really, really quick. It's late, anyways. Yeah?"

They are the only two girls in the dressing room. It's late, which means there is work to be done, which means people only come in for a quick outfit change because wasting time in here is wasting money. But there's some text Cal has sent, and Yesenia shouldn't have checked her phone, but here we are. Here we are.