Myka sucks in a sharp, surprised breath as a wall of unforgiving cold air slams into her. She stands stock still outside the Law Building for a second, she lets the biting cold wind work its way into the crevices of her jacket, she lets students flow around her as they shiver and laugh and head for home as fast as they can. Another breath, and Myka hoists her bag higher on her shoulder and heads down the cement stairs, watching carefully for ice. Myka is good at being careful.

Much to her annoyance, her bag slips off the smooth leather of her jacket once again, and she grimly hoists it back up. It's heavy, filled to the brim with papers – homework, extra credit assignments, the inventory list for the new shipment of books her library is getting, more homework. Her workload just keeps increasing, and her clubs have never seemed so time-consuming. She's barely talked to Pete all week and she hasn't even seen –

She's been very busy. February is an exhausting month. And maybe some of that is her fault too, maybe she didn't need to sign up for seven hour shifts at the library every weekend, maybe she didn't need to take on more responsibility in setting up her fencing tournament next month, and maybe she doesn't need to avoid H.G. as hard as she is because H.G. sure isn't making any effort to speak to Myka, going so far as to switch seats in class, to which Myka retaliates by not looking over at H.G, not even once. (Myka is good at avoiding, too.)

It's only because her gaze is fixed firmly upon the ground that Myka sees it, a bright spot of yellow plastic, stark against the thorny branches of a hedge. After a quick visual check for the nearest trash can, she stoops to pick it up by the tips of gloved fingers. It's some sort of candy wrapper, probably a Butterfinger. She doesn't look too closely – she's not particularly fond of sweets, nor of touching what was probably slobbered on by someone – but she drops it into the trash can anyway because it's the right thing to do. Myka is good at doing the right thing.

And the satisfaction that comes of doing the right thing is just barely there; Myka has to strain to feel some last broken vestige of it, a glimmer of what it used to be.

Her stomach hasn't stopped twisting itself into knots, and this queasy feeling has followed her all day. No, all week. She walks on, tasting metal under her tongue and Myka knows that's psychosomatic, but –

She walks on and tells herself the protestations of her sore shoulder and the rest of her body are nothing more than stress and abnormally cold temperatures.

"Mykes! My main squeeze!"

She takes another searing lungful of frigid air and forces a smile on her face. She turns and it becomes a bit more genuine when she sees Pete further along the sidewalk, chugging a water bottle and waving enthusiastically.

"Hey," she says when he gets close enough. "You're not allowed near containers of water anymore. Remember what happened to our poor library?"

"Ha, ha." Pete rolls his eyes, though he caps the bottle quickly. "Wasn't even my fault. And it's not even like anything actually got destroyed! It's just a little..."

"Flooded?"

"Soggy." He glares. "And it's better now, so. Yeah."

Myka quirks a sceptical eyebrow but lets the matter rest. Pete offers her a half-smile, and they walk in silence for a bit before Myka remembers. She rolls her shoulders to force away some of the tension and says, "So how was your date with Alice last night?"

"Eh." Pete shoots her a wry grin. "She was a couple sandwiches short of a picnic, if you catch my drift." Myka smiles unthinkingly, remembering the sandwiches Helena had made for her – she'd put arugula in them, of all things. It hadn't tasted bad at all, Myka has to admit, maybe she can con H.G. into making more –

No. She can't, and thinking that way is foolish. Myka is not a fool.

"Made me watch this stupid thing," he continues, and Myka hums to show she's listening. "About this guy who, like, didn't go watch the baseball game – and this was the World Series, okay, we're talkin' major league – and he went to his girl's high school reunion instead but that somehow meant he loved her more than his baseball and so that was a big deal and then there was a whole kissing in the rain situation." He takes a breath. "It was bad, Mykes. So bad."

"That's romantic," she says absently. They're only a few minutes away from the library they work at and Myka, for one, is looking forward to getting inside and being able to feel the tip of her nose again.

"Not watching the underdogs score a home run in the big leagues is romantic?" Pete asks, lining up his water bottle and executing a beautiful three-point shot into a nearby recycling bin. Myka ignores his victory dance with the ease of long practice.

"Choosing your girlfriend over your favourite sport," she tells him, swatting at his arm. For all his love of movies, Pete is terrible at explaining the plot; to this day she's surprised she can understand him. "Isn't that how you're supposed to gauge how much someone means to you?"

"By missing out on a World Series?" Pete wrinkles his nose and Myka hits him again.

"No! By seeing if you would put them over things like watching a sports game or-"

"Big leagues, Mykes! Front row tickets!"

"Or," she continues as though he hadn't interrupted. "Playing Mass Effect or Call of Duty or whatever -"

"Hey, Mass Effect is the actual best." He points a warning finger at her and she gives him a blank stare in return.

"Pete."

"Yeah, yeah. Putting your girlfriend above sports." They jog the final steps to the library, and Myka feels herself relax as she enters the building. It's old and dull and grey, but warm, and there are books everywhere and it reminds her of the bookstore she grew up in – it's home, or the closest she gets.

Myka busies herself with stripping off her coat as Pete continues, "I don't know if I'd ever put my girlfriend over sports." A thoughtful pause. "School, maybe."

Myka smiles tightly and quickens her pace, almost bumping into Claudia as she comes out of the back office.

"Guys! Guys!"

Pete gives an exaggerated wince at the sheer volume coming out of the little body. "Inside voice," he complains.

Claudia ignores him. "The computer lab's done!" she cries, almost bouncing in place. Pete abandons all pretensions of adulthood and yells excitedly.

"You are children," she tells them.

"You are no fun," Pete retorts and Myka knows it's just Pete being Pete but after H.G., after an entire week spent reevaluating her choices, the remark stings. It must show on her face because Claudia shifts awkwardly and Pete's mouth opens and closes silently.

"Shut up, Pete," Myka mumbles, and it's at best a halfhearted attempt at lightening the mood. She scoffs and rolls her eyes, trying to communicate without words that she knows she's being overly sensitive.

The cart full of new books should be somewhere in the back room, Myka knows, and they need to get the books sorted and shelved before they head to Pete's wrestling match tonight. Speaking of: "Pete," she says, gesturing. After a confused second, Pete remembers, and slips on his Ask Me Anything – I Work Here! lanyard, identical to the ones already around Claudia and Myka's necks. "You can check out the lab later, we have these new arrivals to deal with, remember?"

Artie left them with very serious instructions, and Myka intends to follow through on them, even if the man himself is busy fixing up the last of the water damage in his personal office. Myka looks up from the book cart, only to receive two identically pleading stares.

"Lab first?" Claudia begs. "Pretty please? With fairy gold dust on top?"

"Fairy gold dust!" Pete echoes, pouting childishly and Myka's groan is more for show than anything else. He still looks concerned, and it's more for that than anything else that she agrees.

Claudia springs towards the newly renovated computer lab, but Pete lingers, scratching his head.

"Hey, look I know we haven't really talked all week -"

"Pete, relax."

He sighs, and Myka echoes him. She forgets how serious Pete can be sometimes. "I – you're still coming to my wrestling match, right?"

It's not what he wanted to say, Myka can tell. "As if I could forget. You only remind every hour." Pete laughs unabashedly and pulls Myka into a brief hug. "Smell ya later!" he calls over his shoulder and Myka shakes her head fondly.

She turns to the loaded book cart and smiles a little – she doesn't really mind inventory.

She has never hated inventory more in her entire life.

Myka pushes the cart down the R-S aisle with more force than strictly necessary, and tries not to scowl. There's a frail-looking old lady carrying a floral print book bag already overflowing with Nora Roberts' books and Myka has no desire to scare her off. (The woman's name is either Hazel or Rosa, and she's a regular, drops by every Saturday. As far as Myka knows, Hazel or Rosa never goes anywhere but this section.

It's a shame, Myka thinks, that Hazel or Rose has never explored the library's prized wall of mint-condition, first edition novels. It's fine to like what you like, of course, but shouldn't an attempt at broadening horizons be made?)

But Hazel or Rosa is just about done browsing for the day, and Myka is left alone with her thoughts and the monotony of shelving. Then faint sounds of laughter drift over to Myka and her hands tighten around a book because the sound is light and airy and so much like Helena's she could just –

But she doesn't, and she places Empire of Man onto its shelf with more care than the task warrants.

She forgot how easy it is to lose yourself in your thoughts during inventory, and now she's paying for the oversight. The Dewey Decimal System only demands so much focus, and so Myka tries hard to clear her mind but it keeps going back to that English class, and –

And it scares her – it terrifies her because now she thinks if Myka was given a chance to do it over again, she might not have severed ties with Helena.

Because this separation makes her feel like she can't breathe right, like there's something big missing somewhere important. It seems as though her entire body is just going through the motions of life, no wonder Pete was worried. Her entire body is lacking in vitality when Helena isn't around and Myka feels powerless to return herself to her usual state. Forget how Helena's misconduct makes her feel, now it's as though her entire body is betraying her. No one ever told her the absence of another could affect her so profoundly. A memo would have been nice, Myka thinks sardonically, shelving another book.

"Hello."

Myka nearly leaps straight into the air. She whirls around, hand pressed over her heart, but the shock passes soon and her heart resumes its slow march. "Who – do I know you?" she asks of the girl who so easily snuck up behind her.

The girl tilts her head to the side, dislodging an absolute waterfall of tight curls. It must take her hours to wrestle them into control, to buy the appropriate creams and gels.

Myka sympathizes.

"I'm Leena," the girl says. "I think we have a mutual friend." She smiles warmly, immediately putting Myka at ease. Leena has a kind face, sun-kissed and open, with all the quiet confidence of someone years older. She holds out her hand and Myka shakes it automatically.

"Actually," Leena begins, levelling her with a piercing stare. "Can you wait here a second? I'll just go get her."

She spins away without waiting for a response and Myka is left staring at the empty air between the shelves. She leans against the cart, bemused and almost falls off when Leena walks back into view, with none other than H.G. in tow.

She stammers uselessly for a minute and then, blessedly, Leena butts in, looking strangely determined.

"Well?" She asks pointedly. Myka starts, but it appears she was talking to H.G., who scowls and glares at the ground.

"Well," H.G. echoes and Myka swallows, hard. It's first time in more than a week that she's heard this voice, and her heart pounds like she's just run a marathon. Leena nudges H.G. – discreetly, it's true, but Myka has given herself permission to look now, and she soaks in every millimetre of H.G. – and H.G. glares at the ground. "What are you doing here?"

Irritation flares – where does she get off sounding so sullen? Myka is not the one who cheated on a major project, nor the one who then dropped it into conversation like it was no big deal, and so her words are terse when she replies, "I work here."

H.G. inclines her head, wetting her lips. Myka follows the pink of her tongue for a brief second before she tears her eyes away. "Oh. How nice. Well. I have work to do." She looks at Myka, almost daring her to comment and Myka almost does, almost asks if Leena is doing a project for her or if she called Claudia up again, but bites her tongue. "Shall we then, Leena," H.G. says, and it doesn't sound like a question.

There's no reply, and they both look around, only to find themselves alone between the shelves. Helena pivots back to face Myka, looking as though she wants to blame her for Leena's disappearance.

"Well," H.G. says instead, and gives Myka a sharp nod in what may be a goodbye. She turns to go, back straight and head high – completely untouchable. She is regal, even from behind and Myka breathes in and Myka follows her.

She doesn't want to. Not really. There's nothing about cheating or other shortcuts that Myka finds excusable but she doesn't want to go around feeling sick to her stomach for the rest of her life either and there's still a part of her that can't come to terms with the fact that the best thing that's ever happened to her fizzled out with a whimper and not a bang. The books she's read made her expect more, made her expect adventures and laughter and love that would rewrite history.

She expected more, but she'll take closure.

Helena is seated at one of the tables when Myka emerges from the aisle, typing furiously on her laptop. A part of Myka wonders if she's faking it to look busy, another part is too scared to go and check. That part wins out and Myka lingers near the shelf, close enough to be heard but far enough away that she can't see the screen. Papers litter the table and an unfamiliar turquoise backpack draped across a chair tells Myka that Leena had chosen to leave, give them some privacy. The thought gives her courage and she prepares herself to have a serious adult conversation about respecting the rules and why Myka can't be with someone who disregards such things.

"Remember orientation?" is what comes out instead.

"It's where I first met Claudia, actually," Helena snaps, fingers never pausing in their race across the keyboard.

Myka swallows. Helena seems determined to make this difficult and Myka would cut to the chase and break it off fully but then she remembers how hard it is to not have Helena around. "It's also where we met," she says softly. Helena stops typing for a second, just for a second, but Myka seizes it for the chance Helena might never verbally grant her.

"You were – you'd just gotten here from London three days ago. And I'd been here for about the same time, but I was from Colorado so I was, y'know, used to America." Myka forges ahead, even though Helena doesn't acknowledge her, even though she herself doesn't know where these words are coming from, but she can't stem the flow. "I don't know if I've ever told you this, but Pete and I were supposed to explore the orientation fair together, check out all the clubs and teams and stuff after we got settled into our dorms. But I finished unpacking way earlier than Pete and I thought, why not be impulsive, wander around by myself?

"So, y'know. I did. And I ended up in front of the sci-fi club's booth. The guys behind it were giving a really good pitch, cracking Star Wars jokes like you would not believe, laughing, making the three people – and this is including me – who were listening, laugh a lot too. But then they started messing up their puns and stuttering and blushing and they kept looking at this one spot. So I get curious and I turn and look, and there's – there's you."

"I didn't think they were doing a very good job," Helena says. Her voice is quiet and she looks vaguely surprised, like she didn't mean to speak out loud. Myka tries to hide the grin on her face, afraid it might scare H.G. into silence once again.

"That's the first thing you said to me."

"Then you told me it was because I was making them nervous," Helena says softly, and Myka ducks her head in embarrassment. "And you blushed such a pretty pink and I thought – well." Helena trails off and Myka swallows, trying to gather up her courage.

"I -" She has to pause, to remind herself to be brave. "You know, I could barely look at you. You were carrying All the Pretty Horses and I love that book – oh, my God, and your voice was the sexiest thing I'd ever heard and – and you were so pretty -"

Helena laughs and Myka's cheeks flame instantly. She shifts her weight uncomfortably and gauges how quickly she can duck into the bathroom and hide for the rest of her life. God, what possessed her to say all that?

"Myka," Helena says and Myka squirms as Helena finally turns to look at her, finally says her name after a week's remission. But she takes a breath, and continues on a different train of thought. "And then little Claudia ran into us."

"Literally." Myka mumbles it under her breath, hoping for a laugh, a smile, anything to take away from the awkwardness she feels. She takes a peek and sees Helena roll her eyes, but the corners of her lips tug upwards. Close enough, Myka thinks.

She risks a longer look to find H.G.'s gaze just flicking away from her, and in that brief second she thinks she saw brown eyes regarding her with achingly familiar affection, but then it's gone and something in her chest constricts. Myka moves to cross the distance between them, almost before she realizes she's doing it, moves until she's close enough to run her fingers over the cheap maple veneer on the chairs.

"But then Pete broke his wrist, all the way on the other side of campus, and I had to go and make sure he didn't somehow die his first day of university. And you snuck her outside."

"Of course. I didn't want her to get into trouble."

Myka aims a tentative smile at H.G., but she's gone back to studying the screen. "Yeah. You and Claudia must've bonded over that a little."

"We did. We talked," H.G. replies, and Myka takes heart in the way her eyes flick up to meet Myka's once more. "I discovered she had quite the aptitude for engineering."

Now or never, she tells herself. "You were wrong to have her do your homework," she tells Helena softly, hoping it won't come to raised voices.

Helena exhales noisily. "I could have done the project in my sleep. Come to think of it, so could Claudia!"

"I – I know." Myka soldiers on. "But -"

"But nothing, Myka. I didn't want to make a mini model of an RBF, I wanted to spend the time with you!"

Myka blinks, hard and her vision clears. "You shouldn't have done it," Myka repeats, voice small in the thundering silence after Helena's admission.

Helena stares at her incredulously then Myka watches all the fight drain from her body. "I know," she replies softly. Myka's heart leaps before stilling in her chest, and she waits with baited breath for Helena to continue. "I know I shouldn't have.

Myka reaches for Helena and ignores how her hand trembles. She swallows to regain moisture in her mouth. "I would have helped you, you know. Build an RBF, after you explained to me what that means." Helena laughs weakly, and it hitches it her throat when Myka's fingers finally brush her shoulder. She covers her face with her hand, massaging her temples and Myka looks on helplessly. "Why did you do it?"

"The greenhouse was going to be filled with people all next week. Some sort of end-of-semester project," Helena mumbles into her palm, eyes shut. "But I wanted you to see it empty and beautiful, I knew you'd love it." Before Myka can even try to process that, Helena speaks again. "I could have – I don't know, taken you for dinner instead and waited for it to return once more to its semi-abandoned state, and I chose not to. I will confess to Professor Brown tomorrow morning," H.G. promises and Myka starts.

It shocks her to realize she doesn't want that because, "You – but you might get expelled, this college isn't exactly known for leniency -"

"He'll go easier on me because I admitted to it," Helena says reassuringly and Myka bites her lip because she can't lose H.G. so soon after she got her back. "Naturally, I am his favourite, which helps immensely, I should think." She gets to her feet and Myka feels the tension she's been carrying in her ribcage dissolve because this Helena is a Helena she's familiar with, all arrogance and charm.

"Naturally," she repeats, numbed by the realization that she's forgiven H.G. already.

Helena takes a deep breath. "Your determination to always do the right thing is one of the most remarkable traits you possess, Myka Bering."

Tentatively, Myka tugs at H.G. sleeve, just to know if that's okay. Helena's gaze doesn't waver from her eyes, though a hand does come up to close over Myka's. Thank you, she means to say. "I missed you," comes out instead and Helena steps into her arms as though she'd never been away.

"We should get going."

"Yes," Helena agrees, trailing a hot mouth down Myka's neck. Myka shivers helplessly and Helena traps her tighter against the door. And it feels right to do this now, with the air cleared between them, with a little bit more understanding of each other.

"No, I'm serious, the wrestling thing starts – oh, wow – starts in maybe twenty minutes and it's – it's, um -" Myka breathes out carefully as Helena discovers the soft spot just below her ear.

"Darling, must we leave right away?" The question is less a sound and more a feeling, hot against her ear, and it slides straight down her spine and simmers and twists in her stomach in a way Myka's not very used to at all.

"Yes," she manages, and Helena leans up to kiss her, hot and sweet and possessive. "No," she breathes between them, and feels Helena smile as she walks Myka backwards to the bed.

Myka is almost shoved onto the bed sideways and she laughs breathlessly, scrambling to resettle. She ends up with her head cushioned on the pillows, looking up at a smirking Helena, who clambers on top of her, straddling Myka's hips with a practiced ease. The thought gives her pause and she reaches to push Helena's hair behind her ears.

"You've done this before, haven't you?"

Helena's eyes flutter under Myka's ministrations and she hums. "Yes," she says, regarding Myka with lidded eyes.

"I haven't," she says honestly. "I mean – sex, yes, but not with –"

"A woman?" Helena suggests, mouth curving up playfully.

"A woman," Myka agrees, looking away nervously.

"Well," Helena traces a finger down her collarbone, follows the lines of Myka's neckline. "It's a good thing I'm so much more experienced then, isn't it?"

Myka wants to laugh, but all that comes out is a sigh, and she tugs Helena close and tilts up her chin as Helena kisses her again, this time slower but with no less heat, softer and teasing.

A tongue darts out to lave at Helena's lower lip before Myka takes that lip in between hers and bites down, drawing a moan from Helena and heat blooms in her belly. They're fumbling now and speed is of the essence so when Helena whips off her shirt, Myka sits them up and follows suit. Helena keeps her hands lodged firmly in Myka's hair, but Myka is drunk on the silken heat emanating off Helena's bare back and her bra is just getting in the way.

Embarrassingly, she fumbles with the clasp – what the hell point is there to being a girl if she's reduced to fumbling with the clasp! – but it comes away soon enough and Myka pulls back because she has to see this, she needs to see this.

Myka draws the straps down Helena's shoulders slowly, not because she wants to tease, like Helena's impatient sigh suggests, but because she's enamoured with the softness of Helena's skin, the way it gives underneath even the lightest touch of her fingertips. She means to ask where she should put the bra, but then she registers Helena naked from the waist up and loses her breath and her voice.

"Helena," she whispers, but it wasn't a sentence was ever going to be completed and so she just watches, enchanted, as sweet pink flushes Helena's breasts, rising up her collarbone and her neck, coming to rest high on her cheeks.

"I thought you were so much more experienced at this than I am," Myka teases in relief, knowing her voice is husky and dry.

"I am," H.G. insists unsteadily, running a thumb over Myka's bare stomach and Myka sucks in a breath. "But Myka, the way you look at me, I -"

She pauses and kisses Myka again, and Myka slides shaking hands up Helena's sides, and – and then the phone rings because it just figures.

Helena groans into her mouth and the vibrations make her forget that the phone rang, that the world exists because what could be more important than the twist of Helena's tongue in her mouth or the heat of her hands on her back?

Myka hisses, honest to God hisses, when the phone rings again and she lunges over the side table to get it.

"What!" she snaps.

"Mykes?" Pete has to yell over the pandemonium in the background. "How come you're answering H.G.'s phone?"

The match hasn't started yet, but already laughter and good-natured jeers give the impression that unless one adds to the noise themselves, deafness will surely ensue.

The smell of popcorn and hot dogs fill the air and each steps she takes squeaks, the floor sticky with old alcohol. More than anything, it reminds Myka of a bar, albeit an exceptionally large one, with bleachers along the sides.

She loves it. Granted, she loves everything right now – earlier she hugged Claudia for a solid minute when they went to pick her up. (Myka reminds herself to have a chat with Claudia about agreeing to help H.G. in the first place, but it can wait.)

"I'm concerned about the copious butter and salt intake taking place here," H.G. says, looking around, and Myka chuckles.

"They'll burn it off with exam stress soon enough," she murmurs affectionately, and turns to see Helena staring back at her. Suddenly she wants nothing more than to have Helena's fingers laced with hers but Claudia is right there, and no one knows yet, not even Pete. (He seems to have bought the excruciatingly awkward explanation she'd made up for him, and Myka checks her pocket once again to make sure her phone isn't left on vibrate again. She has half a mind to check Helena's phone too, but restrains herself.)

"Hey!"

The girls turn simultaneously to see none other than Steve Jinks calling and waving to them. Helena waves back, grinning. phone

Steve catches up to them quickly and nods at them politely. "Hi there," he says.

"Claudia darling, this is Steve Jinks," Helena says. "Myka, I believe you've seen him before?"

There's something challenging about Helena's smirk and Myka tries not to scowl. "I have, yeah. Hi." She holds out a hand for Steve and he takes it. He has a firm, trustworthy grasp and Myka tells herself to loosen up. "You're a friend of Helena's, right?"

Steve affirms this and shakes Claudia's hand in turn.

"Have you seen Joshua yet, Steve?" Helena queries, too nonchalant to be truly casual. Myka head snaps towards her and she studies Helena, trying to figure out what she's trying to pull.

"I have!" Steve laughs. "He's looking pretty cute today, actually."

He? He's cute? He is?

Myka barely hears Claudia's affronted response – "What do you mean prettycute today! My brother's always cute! Wait, ew!"– and the unmistakable burn of a blush make its way across Myka's cheeks and she tries not to groan aloud. She knows Helena is smirking beside her and she tries valiantly to pretend Helena doesn't know Myka was jealous of a man who would never be interested in Helena, simply by virtue of her gender.

At least Claudia and Steve seem to have hit it off, Myka thinks, fighting off a blush. Helena leans into her side briefly and she turns to find warm brown eyes trained on her, simultaneously reproving and affectionate. She supposes she deserves it, and smiles exasperatedly to show it. Helena nudges her shoulder, trying to hide an answering smile, and it may not be the handhold she wanted, but it warms Myka from the inside out.

It's a smashing victory for their team, and Myka's ears still ring with the disbelieving cheers of her peers as she and H.G. wait in line to buy drinks.

"You know, I thought you and Pete were together, when we first met."

Myka starts and almost loses her place in line as she steps back to look at H.G. more fully. "You thought what? Why?"

"Well, you did fuss so over him at orientation," H.G. says, smiling at the cashier as she points at their orders.

"He broke his wrist!" Myka yelps, almost dropping the tray of soda she is handed. (Dr. Pepper for Helena, cream soda for Pete, Mountain Dew for Claudia, and tonic water for Myka, along with a reprimanding look at their sugar intake.)

H.G. shrugs in that way she has that can mean anything from agreement to condescension. "Yes, well," is all she offers on the subject.

Myka is still trying to formulate a response to that when she almost walks into someone.

"Sorry!" she says automatically. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," is the despondent response, and Myka takes a minute to be surprised that a single word can be slurred so effectively. She's run into a hulk of a college student, close-cut brown hair, broad shoulders, rippling pectorals, and he would be ferocious-looking if he weren't so clearly, miserably drunk. A member of the losing team, Myka notes, noticing the foreign blue and red jersey.

"Do you need some help?" Helena queries, smiling curiously.

He squints at her for a while before replying. "Hey," he says slowly, pointing unsteadily at Helena. Helena doesn't look even vaguely perturbed, in fact she tilts her head and looks somewhat bored. The wrestler takes it as an invitation to continue. "How's your kid?"