She lights her cigarette with the red lighter Harrison had gifted her years before, then takes a long drag like it's going to be the perfect cure-all for today's sunblock-soaked bloodbath.
“Funny running into you here,” says a voice that Cassie has already committed to memory. Baran's in a pink tank top and denim shorts, her dark hair hanging in lose waves on her shoulders.
Cassie exhales a puff of smoke in the other direction
“We've got to stop meeting like this,” she quips.
Baran's laugh is small, tired. She's charmed but, fuck, it's been a long day.
With no hesitation, she takes the empty spot on the bench beside Cassie. And just like that, Cassie feels like she's been teleported back to the 4th of July. Without a word, she offers her cigarette to Baran and without a word, Baran accepts it.
“You did a great job in there today,” Baran says after a surprisingly comfortable silence. “You move fast but you don't make mistakes.”
“Everyone worked well together today,” Cassie says, side-stepping the compliment like she's trying to disarm a bomb.