"This is an incredibly stupid idea," Chris says. Bianca, who's been fisting the back of her jacket in her hand to reassure him that he's still there, thumps him on the shoulder. "Well, I'm just saying. You'd never let me do this, if it were the other way around."
One advantage of your partner being invisible is that you always get the last word. Chris has no doubt that whatever she's saying back to him is just as cutting and righteous, but if he can't hear it, then it totally doesn't count.
They've broken into the neighbor's home, the only house with any kind of view of the Manor. It's being remodeled, and most of the first floor is torn up but the second floor is still intact - lived-in bedrooms, bathrooms with toiletries and makeup still strewn over the counters. It must be a group of roommates who live here now - there's locks on all the doors, no signs of children, multiple bottles of detergent in the laundry room. In 2003 it'd been vacant, and occasionally a realtor would come by showing it to people, but nobody ever bought it to Chris' knowledge. Early into 2004, not too long after Christmas, some kids had broken into it for a party, the cops were called, and it was this whole big drama since they trashed the entire first floor. Piper had gone over to help with the cleanup, which had struck Chris as very strange, but there was some kind of story about an ex of hers who used to live there and Chris very intensely did not want to know about that, so he never asked her about it.
The Halliwells obviously keep tabs on it now, and for good reason - it's an extremely strategic access point to the Manor. There's a dormant crystal cage around the entire property, which Chris had sensed right away. The missing crystal is probably somewhere close to the Manor's garden - easy for someone in the house to access, trapping whoever is inside the neighboring house as easily as moving a stone from one spot to another. It's clever - Paige's idea, Chris would guess. Vulnerable plan, though - all someone would have to do is move one of the other crystals to disrupt the pattern, which was the first thing he and Bianca did - and with several adults living in the house - college students, is Chris' guess, judging by the clothes and the posters on the walls of the bedrooms - the cage probably gets disrupted all the time accidentally. Would take a lot of time and attention to keep checking on it, to make sure the trap is still intact, and to keep the occupants from getting suspicious, which means they alsomost likely have the house under some kind of surveillance. That's what Chris is really worried about - all his cloaking spells, Bianca's protection wards, the interference spell they'd cast before even going inside - it still wouldn't hold up against the Power of Three. But even if it did - the interference in whatever magic the Halliwells have here would be just as conspicuous either way, even if they can't tell who it is.
Bianca doesn't seem to care. They've been using paper and pen to communicate, and the floor of the north-facing bedroom is already littered with the discarded scraps of their argument.
"Tell me why you're so reckless," Chris finally demands. It's getting close to dawn, the sun peeking up over the horizon. The Halliwells will be waking up soon, leaving for work, school - whatever. If one of them is going to try and go in, they still have to wait a few more hours, until the house is as close to empty as it ever seems to get. "You and I both know that it needs to be me. For one - they're not going to kill me. They won't even try to hurt me - they've been wanting me to show up. You, on the other hand, they won't hesitate to vanquish - it's a choice between no risk at all, and extreme, life-threatening risk. So what the fuck? Tell me the real reason."
The only thing he has to look at is the notebook and pen, floating in mid-air. He can close his eyes and picture her, sitting there across from him writing, but he still has no idea what she even looks like in this world. Is her hair the same color? Does she have different scars, new ones? Does she cover her Phoenix mark or leave it bare? Does she wear makeup, nice clothes? Or just jeans and tank tops, like she'd wear at the base, when they didn't have to go anywhere? Nothing on her face, her hair pulled back, long sweaters that Chris used to slide his arms beneath so he could touch her bare waist. He's dreamed so many times about those sweaters.
P.J. CAST THIS ON YOU. THINKS I'M EVIL, THAT I WAS POISONING YOUR MIND AGAINST MIMI.
"Right, I know that," Chris says impatiently. "You told me that already."
WHEN SHE FINDS OUT WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU SHE'LL BLAME ME.
"So far you're just arguing my case, not yours."
The only point where they're in physical contact now are their ankles, which are pressed together below their chairs. The notebook seems to sag, as if she's loosened her grip on it, or moved her hands somehow, and she doesn't write anything for a few, very long moments. Chris waits, wishing desperately he could see her face, see how upset she is. She'd never just tell him, if he asked - he always had to judge her mood by her body language, her expressions. It's agonizing, not being able to do that now.
Finally, the notebook moves back up to his former position, and the pen starts to write. Chris doesn't look at it until she's finished - it takes several minutes, and several pages.
I GOT MY MEMORIES WHEN I WAS ELEVEN. MY MOTHER WAS DEAD - LIVED WITH BEATRIX AND HELENA IN MASS. THEY THOUGHT I WAS INSANE/COMPROMISED WHENEVER I SAID ANYTHING, SO I STOPPED MENTIONING IT, I THOUGHT FOREVER THAT IT WAS JUST A DREAM. SOMETIMES I THOUGHT I WAS CRAZY.
Chris winces and reaches out for her hand. He feels her give it to him, squeezing his fingers.
OF COURSE I KNEW THE HALLIWELLS WERE REAL, EVERYONE KNOWS YOUR FAM. BUT I THOUGHT IT WAS JUST A WEIRD FANTASY I CAME UP WITH WHEN I WAS A KID - GRIEF ABOUT MY MOM? - UNTIL I MET THE OTHER YOU AT A BAR IN THE UNDERWORLD. HE WAS THERE WITH ANOTHER WHITELIGHTER, THEY WERE LOOKING FOR SOME DEMON AFTER THE B.O.S. HE RECOGNIZED ME RIGHT AWAY EVEN THO I DIDN'T TRY TO TALK TO HIM OR INTERFERE. HE CHASED ME, WANTED TO TALK. HE KNEW EXACTLY WHO I WAS. HE WANTED TO KNOW THE TRUTH.
Chris sucks in a surprised breath.
WE TALKED MOSTLY ON PHONE. ONLY IN PERSON ONE MORE TIME AFTER THAT AND IT WAS V. SHORT, FEW MINUTES TOPS. HE KNEW A LOT OF DETAILS ALREADY FROM TALKING TO BILLIE. HE WAS WORRIED ABOUT WYATT MAINLY, WANTED TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO KEEP HIM SAFE, KEEP OURWYATT AWAY. I DIDN'T SLEEP WITH HIM. WASN'T LIKE THAT.
"I didn't think it was like that," Chris says out loud. "Even if it was, I wouldn't care, you know that."
Bianca just taps his arm, silently telling him to keep reading.
WE WERE FRIENDS I GUESS. HE WAS NAIVE BUT VERY KIND, LOVED WYATT V MUCH. WHEN HE MET MIMI THINGS CHANGED - MOVED TO RENO, WITHDREW FROM HIS FAM. STARTED DEMON HUNTING A LOT MORE. HE GOT MUCH HARSHER WITH ME - HIT ON ME CONSTANTLY, NOT IN A NICE WAY. I TRIED TO HELP, BUT HE DIDN'T LISTEN. MIMI SEEMED LIKE A NORMAL NICE GIRL - YOUR FAM. THOUGHT IT WAS HIM, THAT HE WAS TAKING ADVANTAGE OF HER. HE'D TREAT HER BADLY IN FRONT OF OTHERS. BUT I DID A TRUTH REVEAL SPELL AND FOUND OUT SHE WASN'T HUMAN, AND WHEN I CONFRONTED HER SHE ATTACKED ME.
"They thought it was you?" Chris asks. Bianca taps his wrist once. "Of course they did. She was just an innocent mortal, a nice quirky girl he was dating. They probably found out he was talking to you and suddenly you're the hot demon who's seducing him into bad behavior, right?"
Bianca taps again, wrapping her leg more tightly around Chris'. The notebook slips out of his hands and back over to her, and the page flips to a fresh side. Chris rubs her calf with his foot while she writes, trying not to think too hard about what exactly she means by "hit on me, not in a nice way."
SO I WENT TO P.J. I COULDN'T HANDLE GOING TO WYATT, COULDN'T EVEN SEE HIS FACE WITHOUT PANIC ATTACK. AND I WAS TERRIFIED OF YOUR MOM/AUNTS. P.J. IS PHOEBE'S OLDEST GIRL, SHE AND CHRIS WERE V. CLOSE. SHE WAS V. WORRIED ABOUT HIM, I COULD TELL, SO I THOUGHT SHE MIGHT BELIEVE ME.
"But she didn't," Chris says sadly. Bianca taps his wrist twice.
MIMI GOT TO HER FIRST. TOLD HER I'D ATTACKED HER, LONG SOB STORY, ETC. I'D ARRANGED A MEETING W/ P.J. IN PUBLIC BUT IT WAS A TRAP. THEY HAD ME IN A CRYSTAL CAGE FOR A FEW HOURS, INTERROGATING. I'M FINE. BUT I COULDN'T CONVINCE THEM. WYATT WAS THERE.
"Oh, sweetheart," Chris murmurs, squeezing her hand. Bianca squeezes back, as a reassurance - or maybe she just wants to, it's hard to tell.
DIDN'T HAVE THE STONES TO KILL ME, SO THEY FINALLY LET ME GO. I TRIED RIGHT AWAY TO TALK TO CHRIS, BUT THEY MUST HAVE CAST THIS ON HIM RIGHT AFTER. THIS WAS TWO DAYS BEFORE HE DISAPPEARED. I WENT AFTER MIMI BUT SHE WAS ALREADY UNDERGROUND, GAVE UP HER HUMAN ID SAME TIME. FIGURED OUT WHAT HAPPENED WHEN YOU MADE CONTACT WITH BUNE - HAVE FRIEND AT THE BAR THERE. KNEW RIGHT AWAY IT WAS YOU.
"I think she did kill him, Bianca," Chris says gravely. He reaches out and feels for her knee, squeezes it tightly. "Leo told me that Billie appeared when her other self had a stroke - brain death. Wyatt's men who have appeared - the ones I've tracked down have all shown up during a fight of some kind - an attempt on their life. I think that's the way this happens - when you die here, your other self steps in. I just don't know why."
The pen wobbles in the air for a second before she replies. AND I COULD'VE STOPPED IT.
"You tried," Chris says, wishing again, more than anything, to see her face. "You did everything you could."
She doesn't write anything for a long time. Chris just holds onto her knee, watching the sun rise through the window. Trying not to think too hard about the details.
MIND ALTERING SPELL, Bianca finally writes, the pen jittering nervously across the page. The handwriting is shakier, too. DOESN'T AFFECT JUDGMENT, BUT IT'S ONE STEP DOWN FROM THAT. IT'S SOMETHING YOU CAST ON THE STALKER, SO THEY CAN'T SEE THEIR VICTIM. IF SHE'S WILLING TO CROSS THIS LINE TO KEEP YOU AWAY FROM ME, THE OTHERS DON'T MEAN ANYTHING TO HER EITHER.
"How do you know it's P.J.?" Chris asks. "You said you weren't there when they cast the spell."
She crosses out several replies before she finally makes it to a full sentence: JUST TRUST ME.
"Okay." He looks out the window, at the second story of the Manor, now clearly visible in the early morning light. Inside is his family: the people he gave up everything to save. This is the world he and Bianca wanted, that they fought so hard to create. And here they are: hiding from it. Is he even glad that they're alive? If his mother walked in this room right now, he'd throw one of the smoke bombs he'd made and orb them both out. And if it was Wyatt...Chris isn't honestly sure what the hell he'd do.
He never expected to see it, and that's the difference. Neither of them expected to be alive, to even exist, to see this future. It was easier that way. But of course - it's never easy. It can never, ever just be easy.
"You're going to have to trust me too," Chris finally says, reaching out and feeling for her other hand, using the notebook to figure out where it is. "I don't know these people. I don't know where their lines are, but from what you've told me, I know you're in danger. There is no way on heaven or earth that I'm going to let you in that house after you've just told me they tortured you. And don't bullshit me - I know they did. 'Fine' my ass - this is my family you're talking about, and they think you're evil."
He feels her bend down, the tips of her invisible hair brushing his knees. Something leans against his hands - her forehead, he realizes. She's leaning down to press her forehead against his hands.
He could kill the cousin that did this to them, in that moment. The Wyatt he knew was evil, certainly, but even he wouldn't have come up with something as inventively cruel as this spell.
"I'm sorry about the other Chris," he says softly. "I know you'll never admit it, and you don't have to. But I'm so sorry."
She doesn't move, but he can feel her shaking a little. He doesn't dare to move, either.
The plan is begrudgingly set: they'll wait until the house is empty, or mostly empty, and Chris will go in alone. Get the counterpotion, leave. In and out. If he's not back in thirty minutes, she goes to Zazi. No exceptions, no variations.
(She is definitely going to vary it, if the worst happens. He's already a little preemptively pissed off about it.)
They watch from the window as the cars leave the driveway, one by one. A beat up Honda, then a small sedan, a make he doesn't recognize, and then - an a sharp ache slices through Chris' chest when he recognizes it - Piper's SUV, which had been brand new, straight from the dealership, in April of 2004. It's a lot older now, with visible wear and tear, but it's clearly still running. That was one of the first things he'd learned about her, back then - she was using her grandmother's pots and pans, wearing Prue's clothes. She takes care of things, and makes them last. Of course she still has the same car.
"Any of the cars on the street belong to them?" he asks. Bianca taps his hand twice. "Right. Doesn't mean the house is empty."
PAIGE'S FAMILY LIVES IN OAKLAND. PHOEBE AND HUSBAND LIVE DOWNTOWN, P.J. AND WYATT ARE IN COLLEGE. PHOEBE'S YOUNGEST TWO ARE STILL LITTLE, IN GRADE SCHOOL. THEY DROP BY A LOT BUT ON A TUES. MORNING LIKELY THEY'D ALL BE IN CLASS, Bianca writes.
"What about Leo?" Chris asks.
NO REASON TO BE THERE WHEN PIPER'S GONE. THEY'RE ON BAD TERMS ANYWAY.
"When aren't they?" Chris says dryly, and doesn't wait for an answer. She wouldn't try to reassure him, at any rate.
He scries for people, and gets nothing, which doesn't necessarily mean it's true, but it's the best they can do. He's got an invisibility spell ready - not as good as a potion, but he wants to be able to break it if he has to, but he's reluctant to leave Bianca, worried that she'll follow him. She could shimmer in right behind him and he'd have no idea - he can't even hear the noise she makes, her footsteps on the wooden floors. Whatever the hell kind of spell this is - it's thorough.
He pulls her into a hug, closing his eyes against the now-familiar eeriness, and does the only thing he can: asks her. "Please promise you'll stay away. Please don't make me lose you again."
She hugs him back, her strong arms crossed tightly across his ribs. A press of lips against the side of his neck, and a single tap of her fingers, against the back of his shoulder: the best he's gonna get.
It's likely that they have the Manor alarmed, but he doesn't sense anything when he orbs into the entryway - the only point in the house he can think of where nobody is likely to be lounging. He waits quietly, tensely, against the front door for a long minute, reaching out with both his magical senses and his regular ones - but there's no sound, no footsteps, no electric brush of spellwork. Maybe he really is alone.
The attic is his goal; there's no way the sisters would move the Book. When a Book of Shadows is kept in one place for long enough, it starts to become attached - and one as powerful as the Halliwells' would definitely get attached, so he's relatively sure that's where it is. The rest of the house, though, is distractedly different - the furniture is all unrecognizable, the art on the walls is totally different. Chris makes his way cautiously through the foyer, and up the first flight of stairs - even the paint on the walls is a different color. The antique style of furniture that Piper and Phoebe had favored in 2003 is all gone, replaced by more modern chairs and tables - like something you'd see in a home magazine. The family pictures on the wall are gone too, replaced by framed children's drawings - Chris pauses at one, seeing his own childish handwriting in a corner. It's a crayon rendering of some kind of horse, or maybe a dog - with a great house in the background. Chris shudders, and keeps moving.
If anyone is in the house, they're on the second floor, most likely - in one of the bedrooms, or in the attic. Chris murmurs the invisibility enchantment, to be safe, and watches his own hands disappear - we're really a matching pair now, honey, he thinks dryly. He moves cautiously, avoiding the floorboards he knows to creak. He couldn't have done this, if he hadn't sneaked through this house so many times in 2003, trying to circumvent the sisters, get around Leo's heavy-handed morality. It was always easy, maybe, because he's never truly lived here, never thought of it as his home. He lived with Phoebe and Billie after his mother died, in his original time. By the time Wyatt turned it into a museum and opened it up to his adoring public, nobody had lived beneath its ancient roof for almost fifteen years.
He stops at the foot of the attic stairs; the door to the third floor is open, and there's music playing softly from within. Chris holds his breath and listens: there, faintly, are the sounds of an old floor, creaking beneath someone's weight. He curses silently: there's someone up there.
He moves cautiously, aware that he has little chance of evading detection from a true Halliwell. Inside, sitting cross legged on a large, circular rug, is a girl who looks to be in her late teens or early twenties, with long, light brown hair. She's got the Book of Shadows open on her lap, and she looks so much like Phoebe that it takes Chris' breath away. This has to be P.J.
He can see her tense, as he moves fully into the doorway. Her head snaps up, eyes narrowing. She can't see him, but she can sense him - and Chris sighs, and does something truly stupid - the thing Bianca was probably worried that he would do: he drops the spell.
P.J. drops the Book almost instantly in response. "Chris!" she exclaims, loud enough to rattle the walls. She scrambles to her feet awkwardly, all legs and elbows, and Chris tenses, taking a step back. Noticing this, she stops short a few feet away, her face set in an intent frown. "Chris - you're, you're here, you're okay - what happened, where have you been? Where's Mimi? Do you know what's been happening? I've been calling and calling, and - you broke your phone, why didn't you call, why didn't you come back with Uncle Leo? Are you alright, did something - "
"Whoa," Chris says, holding up one hand. P.J. immediately falls silent, obediently, which is the thing that finally sinks it in, turns the situation real. This is his cousin. The other Chris has definitely done that before, stopped her rambling like that, because they're family, they grew up together, this is Phoebe's daughter. He'd bet anything her real name is Prudence. He'd bet his life on it. "Whoa. Okay. Let's - let's slow down."
"Where have you been?" she demands, crossing her arms. Her eyes narrow again. "What the hell happened? We've all been worried sick."
"It's...complicated," Chris says. He takes a few steps into the main part of the attic, his eyes going automatically to the spot by the window where Bianca had died - the first place he looks, every single time he's here. His chest feels tight. "I don't have time to tell you the whole story right now, P.J. I just came by to look at the Book."
"Are you in trouble?" P.J. says. She sets her mouth into a stubborn frown again. "You know Mimi is missing too, right? Wyatt and I have been scrying for weeks but we can't find her, something must've happened to her - "
"It's complicated," Chris interrupts again, at a loss for how to salvage the situation without proof. Anything he says to contradict what she thinks is just going to be evidence that Bianca is influencing him in some way, and then she really won't let him have access to the Book. "Mimi is...I know where she is. And I have a way of finding her, but I need the Book."
"For what? Where is she?" P.J. continues. She's like a miniaturized motor, all buoyant energy and wide eyes. She takes another step in his direction, which Chris mitigates by moving sideways - subtly, he hopes - in the direction of the Book, keeping as much space between them as possible. "What happened? Uncle Leo said that you were upset and you just needed some time to yourself - but Wyatt and me, we found…" she bites her lip. "Chris, you need to tell me what's going on."
They didn't tell the rest of the family, Chris realizes. They went after Bianca on their own - they didn't tell the sisters. He almost wants to laugh - he would've done the exact same thing.
"Mimi and I...broke off the engagement," Chris settles on. He watches her face carefully, for signs of suspicion, but all she does is widen her eyes even more, her mouth dropping open in surprise. "We had a fight, and...it's a long story. I needed some time to myself, and I didn't know she'd gone missing until a few days ago. But there's a spell in the Book I need that I can use to track her down."
"Why didn't you just come home?" P.J. demands. "We would've helped you. Especially if something happened to Mimi - but we all thought you were missing, Chris! You couldn't even send us a frickin' note?!"
"I was upset," Chris says helplessly, hearing how stupid it sounds even as he says it. It's all he's got, though. "Look, we can talk about this later, okay? But now, I need to find Mimi, and I don't need anyone else's help - I have a pretty good idea where she is."
"Well, so do I." P.J. sticks her chin out stubbornly, and Chris winces, knowing exactly what's coming. "I know about Bianca, Chris."
He sighs irritably. "Do you."
"Yeah. I know you've been cheating on Mimi, and I know what she is," P.J. says defiantly. "'Broke off the engagement' my ass - she found out you were running around on her, didn't she? And now your little demonic side piece has done something to her. We'll leave off the lecture about what an incredibly stupid moron you are until later, but for now - Chris, I can help. Look - I've already done all this research on the Phoenixes, and Wyatt and I even captured her once, before any of this happened! We can do it again! I have the spell I used to trap her right here - "
She moves to a small desk, rifling through a large notebook, stuffed full with loose papers and tabs, loose Post-It notes that flutter to the floor in her urgency. Chris pinches the bridge of his nose, feeling a migraine slowly approaching.
"If she has Mimi, then the only way to find her is to find Bianca," P.J. says, turning around. "You can scry for a Phoenix, but it just leads to you anyof them, because their magic is all so similar. So to find a specific one, the easiest way is to pretend to be, like, a customer, and contract their services - that's what Wyatt's been doing! He's in the Underworld right now, trying to find somebody that will get him in touch with Bianca's clan - it's much, much faster than scrying for like, every Phoenix in North America, and then mapping them all out until you find the right one - "
"Jesus Christ," Chris mutters, shaking his head. P.J. stops mid-sentence, her chin lifting again in offense. "Jesus motherfucking Christ. Your parents don't know about this? And I'm the stupid moron?"
"Well they weren't doing anything!" P.J. cries, two spots of red high on her cheeks. "They - you were just - just gone, and Mimi was in trouble, and we knew exactly who it was and they wouldn't listen to us! They just kept saying some bullcrap about how you needed space and time and once you came to terms - whatever the hell that means! - you'd get in touch again - they wouldn't listen!"
"Did it ever occur to you that maybe they knew a little bit more about this situation?" Chris snaps. There's something - something hot and angry, in the air between them - it's just that she looks so much like Phoebe. The one he'd known in '03, that is: the witty, self-righteous lookalike of the closest person he had to a real parent - just a younger, stupider version who dismissed everything he said with a condescending smirk and a roll of her eyes. "You don't know what the hell you're doing. Stumbling around, chasing the wrong people - how old are you, even? Eighteen, nineteen? What the hell do you know about any of this?"
P.J.'s eyes go narrow again, her arms crossing. "Who are you?" she spits. "You're not my cousin. Who the hell are you?"
"I am," he says tiredly, moving straight to the Book. P.J. tenses, raising one of her hands, but Chris throws up a shield with a toss of his hand, holding her back with telekinesis. It won't last for long, but long enough to flip the pages, find the page he needs - and, there. He rips it out and stuffs it in his pocket, ignoring the girl's sounds of outrage. "Stop. Just shut up for a second." He drops the shield, but keeps his hands up, pushing lightly on her shoulders with his telekinesis, as a warning. "Listen to me, P.J. You need to go to your mother right now and tell her everything that's been going on. Where Wyatt is, what you guys did to Bianca. Everything."
"Like hell I will - " P.J.'s face is flushed with anger, and her eyes go wide again when her voice stops working mid-sentence, her hands flying to her throat.
"It's not permanent," Chris tells her calmly. "The spell needs concentration, so it'll end when I leave. But I need you to listen to me." He takes a step forward, feeling a guilty rush in his gut when she goes rigid, visible fear on her face. It feels good, to make her feel fear. Which probably says something very terrible about who he is as a person. "Bianca is not my enemy. She's not yours, either. She was trying to help Chris." He looks her straight in the eye. "Do you understand me? She was trying to save him."
P.J.'s expression doesn't waver, and he knows she doesn't believe him yet. She will eventually, probably, and then she'll carry it for the rest of her life - especially when they all figure out what happened. He is not capable of feeling bad about that, though he does feel guilty for his lack of empathy, in that sense. He needs to get out of here before he says something he really will regret.
He sighs, and releases the magic on her. She slumps a little against the desk, breathing hard, and Chris feels like a piece of shit.
"Tell them I'm safe," he says. "Tell them I'm going after Mimi, and that I'm with my partner. Tell them…" he rubs his beard, his chest hollowed out and empty. Something nice, he should say. He should come up with something...heartfelt. "Tell them I'm going to keep her from doing this to anyone else, and that I'm going to bring her to justice, for what she did to Chris."
"Chris?" P.J. says, in a small voice. She still looks very, very scared.
"You really do look just like your mom," he says. He smiles, looking at her outfit - something Phoebe would've worn - it's nice, put together, coordinated. She was always dressed up in a full ensemble, even if all she was doing was lounging around the house. All the sisters were like that - they never took a day off, never let anything slide. "Don't take it too hard, kiddo. Just be better next time. Remember that - guilt is just dressed up self-indulgence. Don't give into it."
"Wait - " He orbs out before she finishes her sentence. Best to make it clean - he's already done enough damage.