Holtzmann's townhouse was like nothing Erin had ever seen before.

She'd thought, as Holtz had unlocked the front door, that she would be prepared for whatever was beyond, or as prepared as one could be. She'd thought that just because she'd seen Holtz' workspace, she knew what to expect from her home.

This was…unprecedented levels of chaos.

There was junk everywhere. Heaps of scrap metal hulked in corners, and crunched under Erin's shoes. There were tables upon tables of gizmos and parts and tools and books, so many books, which surprised Erin, because she had never seen Holtzmann read, ever. There were papers scrawled with complex equations and ink pooled where Holtz had probably pressed too hard in her excitement. There were at least three chalkboards that were filled corner to corner with tiny writing and diagrams, and behind them, the writing and diagrams bled onto the wall in thick black strokes of permanent marker that were occasionally scribbled over. There were scorch marks on the ceiling, and blow torches lounging on the floor, and various dangerous-looking oddities perched precariously in places where they really shouldn't be, and something in the corner was definitely sparking. There were a series of thick nails protruding from a wall, each with a different pair of yellow goggles hanging from them. There was a radio humming from somewhere in the room, even though Holtz had been gone for a day. Taped to the wall, there were several black and white photos of women, who Erin recognized as being influential physicists throughout history. The ceiling fan spinning overhead was mangled, like the spokes had melted at some point. There was a mirror being held to the wall with copious amounts of duct tape. And, perhaps strangest of all, there was a massive glass tank with a lamp over it that housed a long and scaly reptile that was making uncomfortable eye contact with Erin.

It was all so, so Holtzmann.

There was a series of thumps from upstairs, where Holtz had retreated to change. Erin bit her tongue instead of calling to see if she was okay. She was going to try, really try, to stop mothering. The last thing she wanted was for Holtz to see her as a mother figure. That was about as far away from 'potential love interest' as possible. She looked around at the hundreds of safety hazards and violations, and she itched to tidy up or go investigate the sparking thing or do something, but she wouldn't. This was Holtzmann's space, and she needed to respect that. Even if it was taking ten years off her life just standing in the room.

Erin crept closer to the weird animal in the tank, nearly tripping over a large jumble of wires on the floor. She wanted to see if it was just as ugly close up.

"I see you've met Hypatia."

Erin's head snapped away from the reptile to see Holtz leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe, wearing a pair of wide-legged paisley pants, two different socks, and Erin's shirt.

"You named your…whatever this is…after a Greek mathematician?"

"Iguana."

"You named your iguana after a Greek mathematician?"

"I named my iguana after a kickass lady."

"That's…fair." Erin paused. "You're still wearing my shirt."

"I like it. I'm stealing it." Holtzmann said this like it was a fact, not up for debate. She climbed around a stack of boxes that were sagging at a frightening angle and tugged Erin by the arm out of the townhouse. "What, no comments about my esteemed place of residence?" she said as she locked the door.

"You're probably not getting your damage deposit back," Erin said, because she couldn't help herself, and that was a lot tamer than a lot of the things running through her head.

Holtz laughed at that. "I own it myself. I found out long ago that landlords aren't so forgiving if you blow up their kitchen. Haven't rented since."

Erin looked up at the townhouse. It was quite nice, actually, and in a good neighbourhood. "You blew up a kitchen?" she murmured absentmindedly. Then, because she had no filter, she blurted: "How could you afford to buy this place?"

Holtzmann grinned as they walked down the steps and to the waiting Ecto-1. She made a move for the driver's seat, but Erin pushed her away. She drew the line at that. There was no way she was letting Holtz drive with one arm and one blurry eye.

Holtzmann didn't answer her question until they were in the hearse and driving away. "I had a fancy-pants job before I joined Abby."

"How fancy-pants?" Well, Erin just sounded like a complete dork saying that. How did Holtzmann make the stupidest sayings sound cool?

"Top-secret government fancy-pants. Very lucrative. Lots of money."

Erin frowned at that. She couldn't picture Holtz working for the government. "Why'd you stop? I know Abby's great, but I imagine that was a bit of a downgrade, pay wise."

"This is more fun," Holtzmann replied. Erin caught a smile in her peripheral vision, but there was something in Holtz' voice that suggested that wasn't the whole story. Erin decided not to press.

"Well, I'm glad you did. Join Abby, I mean."

Holtzmann kicked her feet up onto the hearse's dashboard. "Oh yeah?" she said, her voice teasing. "Why's that?"

Erin felt her face growing hot. Holtz would make her say it. "Because…because who else would've saved the city?"

That wasn't what she wanted to say, and they both knew it. Holtzmann chuckled quietly. "You would've, of course." Then she leaned over, her free hand finding the space between Erin's shoulder blades (causing Erin to stiffen in her seat and grip the steering wheel like her life depended on it), and said in a low voice inches from Erin's ear: "I'm glad I met you too, Gilbert."