Veronica stood staring in front of the bathroom mirror. Her flaxen blonde hair was lightly tousled, her mazarine eyes looked less sleep deprived, and her skin was its typical ivory shade.

What do you wear for dinner with the Bluths?

She shifted her head to the side, taking in her own outfit, pulling at the sleeves of her jacket. She'd decided on a champagne silk blouse. It seemed to work okay with her jeans; but the more she looked at it the more she considered getting changed. It wasn't even about the outfit, not really, it was more about having her boyfriend, her mother and her new addition – the half-brother she'd only just met were all going out to dinner together. She'd been so used to keeping that part of her life separate from Logan, creating a virtual maze of different universes, each other their own and rarely ever colliding. It had been her safety net, her way of keeping her true feelings at bay, never letting anything cut skin-deep. But that was different now, Logan had seen every scratch, every flesh wound, and most importantly every internal bleed. The kind that sat at the fiber of her being. That's what Lilly's death had been. Except instead of a loss of blood, it was a loss of faith, something Logan was busily trying to restore.

Well, in the words of Anne Hathaway, 'This is as good as it's gonna get', She let her shoulders fall into a flippant shrug.

'Hey honey,' Keith's head poked out from around the passage, 'You look nice, where you headed?'

She lightly rustled her hair, peering at him through the mirror, 'Just dinner with Mom and Hunter-my treat,'

'Oh yeah, you're coming too?'

Wait, what.

'What?' She gaped.

He rolled his eyes, 'Your Mom called, said she was going out to dinner, and she told me to come along. We wanted to talk about the trial anyway,'

She blinked her eyes a little perplexed.

Surely, this can't be happening.

'But from the look on your face, I'd say it won't just be you, your Mom and Hunter. Is Logan picking you up?'

'Why didn't she tell me?'

'Maybe because she thought you may try and re-enact Edvard Munch's most famous painting?' Keith caught sight of her eyes blacken, 'It's not that big a deal, Veronica, it'll be fine,'

'Do you want me to-'

'No, its fine,' He insisted, 'I can pick them up, you and Logan can head out as soon as he gets here,'

'Dad,' She looked down out her small pile of make-up, 'I want things to be…good,'

'It will be, I'll leave my Jack Byrnes impression at the door, and if he's lucky I may not even get into George Banks,'

'As long as I see no trace of Robin Williams, you're good,' She leant in and kissed his cheek.

The all familiar ding-dong rang from the front porch. Silently Veronica walked over to open it, all too aware that Keith wasn't far behind. She could already see Logan's smiling face through the glass and she desperately try to stifle a wide-grin. He stepped in slowly, kissing her lips, and turning swiftly to Keith.

'Hey Mr. Mars, how you doing?' He could see Keith's measure glance, the way he scaled Logan's body with his eyes, and then settled on his face.

Who ever said silence was golden, should've know better than to throw idioms around.

'Good, all things considered,' He said finally, 'How are you, Logan?'

'Can't complain,' He hinted with his eyes towards Veronica.

'Dad's coming to dinner as well,' She gritted her teeth.

'Why is that? The allure of greasy steaks and overcooked fries too much for you?'

'No, more the company,' Keith shook his head.

Veronica crossed her arms, the exchange was growing awkward, it was a rare occasion with Logan in the house and it was growing stale. Crusty even, she fought of a chill running down her back, the static silence ringing in her ears.

'Anyway, I'll meet you both there,'

'Oh,' they both turn to her, once again remember she was there completely in ear-shot, 'I'll go get my bag,'

Can you say icy?

She made her way to her bedroom, it hadn't been changed she'd move back, they'd talked about getting her a real bed; but for now it was good enough. She searched the room, a bit frantic, not wanting to be held up by a misplaced handbag and caught sight of it beneath a chair. In seconds, it filled the necessary space on her shoulder, and she rushed back out to the living room.

I could be the next Ashrita Furman.

She stopped short at the edge of the hall, when she heard Keith's voice go placid, 'I never thanked you for-for what you did that night,'

'It was nothing.' She could already see him shrugging it off, the way he did every time he'd come to her rescue, forgetting how he'd put himself at risk. Every act of heroism went unnoticed with Logan.

Always with the flippancy

'No, Logan, it wasn't,' He corrected, 'You know what happened to Sacks, that could've been me, I was lucky. Lucky that you were there-that you looked after my daughter,'

'Well, you're welcome,'
'I am going to try….' Keith trailed off.

There was a silent exchange going on, something that she couldn't picture, surely they weren't high-fiving.

She burst out into the entryway, bag in hand, completely in her usual demure.

'Come on, pal, are you ready to go into the lion's den?' She pulled Logan's arm towards the door, 'Catch you later, Pops.'