I tried to ignore the noise of Terror's claws scratching at the back door. My attention couldn't leave the caped fucker sitting pompously on a couch I swore to myself I'd burn after he left.

"Come," he patted the seat next to him, as if I'd do his bidding and as if I wanted to be close enough for him to touch. "Dr. Taylor, please sit down." His gaze held mine and I realized that we were at a stalemate already, and so did he.

"I'd rather stand," if he could just say whatever barely veiled threat he'd come to deliver, then he could go. Right?

Sighing as though I were the most frustrating person he'd ever come across, he stood back up. Damn it. I liked having the advantage of him needing to look up at me for once. "Fine," surprised that the word came out as pleasant as he normally was in front of the cameras, I crossed my arms over my chest and waited. "We'll stand," he didn't come much closer to me, but he did move so there were no barriers between us. "How are you?"

What? What the literal - "I'm fine," sadly while he still sounded oh so pleasant and benign, my voice showed precisely how not fine I was. "You?" Fuck, why did I ask? Oh, right, the fact that I was raised with manners.

His eyes crinkled as he smiled, and I realized that he was amused by my stumbling the ball and giving him etiquette instead of screaming the walls down for him to leave. "I think you're lying," grin firmly in place, he looked like he was enjoying himself. "I've heard that you and William are -" taking a beat as though he were looking for just the right word, his lips curled up into an even brighter smile. "Over."

Rolling my eyes, it was my turn to sigh. "You heard? You mean you were playing peeking Tom again," seriously why was this moron so fucking focused on what I did or didn't do in my own fucking office? "We're not -" fuck, I faltered again, mostly because I had no fucking clue what Billy and I were anymore. "Is that why you're here? To gloat?"

He was shaking his head as he couldn't seem capable of stopping the bark of laughter that erupted out of him. "You are a fucking -" he let out a satisfied noise and studied me. "Most people would be dead by now," after what he'd done to me went unsaid, but more than fucking understood. "Yet here you are," he looked - wait was he PROUD? "I do think," he leaned his head closer, but since there was still at least two feet between us even with his motion I didn't need to step back, "that you should probably let the ex go too, though." What the fucking hell?!

"What the fuck are you -" stopping to take a breath, he was clearly baiting me. When I spoke again, I at least sounded calmer. "Agent Kessler and I are -" and that brought me up short again. Joe and I were what? Friends? Shit.

I swear to high holy fuck, this asshole in front of me's eyes were twinkling at my confusion. Fucker. "I think he should stay in the past," as if I gave a flying shit what he thought. "You deserve better, Dr. Taylor." He took a step closer, slowly, but I was too fucking startled to move. "Someone who can take everything that you give," are you fucking kidding me, he could not mean - his gloved fingers came up and took an errant strand of my hair between two fingers and I watched as he let it slide through them.

"What are you -" he moved closer, not pressing into me, but close enough that I was forced to look up to meet his eyes. "You need to -"

"Court you?" His head tilted and he thought about what I was going to finish my sentence with - wrong, on all counts, I should warn you. "Date you?" He was studying me as he tried each one out. "Pursue you?"

"Force me," I offered, refusing to take a step back - I would NOT show him weakness. "Rape me," stopping as if I recalled something important, "NOT chemically this time," he wasn't reacting which irritated me. "I'm not Becca," I felt it had to be said, because at least one other asshole in my life seemed incapable of understanding that I wasn't Becca Butcher - and I would never be a stand-in for her.

This time his glove went further than my hair, cupping my cheek and staring down at me as if I were some fucking goal in life, "Oh, I'm well aware that you're not," and I was terrified that he'd kiss me. As if I would ever want those lips anywhere near - "You're much more of a challenge." And then his hand was gone, and he was walking toward the front door. "And I plan on winning."

I did not have enough time between my interaction with Homelander - in my own fucking house, in case anyone missed it - and going back to work.

Work meant that I was forced to interact with my mother, since I'd been too emotional over the weekend to look into other puppy daycares - and honestly at least at my parents' house Terror could be as horny as he wanted without me constantly being notified of his sexual proclivities.

"Veronica," she greeted me with more timidness than I was expecting after how our last meeting had gone. "Are you alright?"

Well, I'd thought I'd done a fucking bang up job of hiding the dark circles and pain on my face with make up and I knew that my suit was perfect - then again, this was my mother. "I'm fine," and I waited for her to do what the caped asshole had done and call me on my bullshit, but she just nodded and took Terror's leash from me. "I'll pick him up after work," as if she didn't know.

I was almost to my car when my Dad came out, calling my name. Well fuck.

"Veronica," he was speaking to my back, since I was intent on getting the fuck out of his sphere and that meant forward, not backward. "Veronica Claire Taylor, stop right now." Wow, he tossed out the middle name, he meant business.

I'd made it to my car and turned, fuck it, why not? "Yes?"

He was still on the grass of their lawn and made no attempt to come closer. Thank God, I had no patience left for some random acts of affection - fake or otherwise. I waited while he gathered the thoughts that had him coming after me and hoped it wasn't going to take long.

"I know that your mother and you had a difficult discussion -" I nearly snorted and missed what he said next. "You have to understand," oh yeah, I was full of understanding about parents who might have actually fucked up my life. "When I heard what that man and those monkeys did -" Wait, what?! "Would you want your daughter shackled to a deviant that had that happen and then had the urge to only want women who are -" OH MY GOD, how fucked up was my life?

"That isn't Joe," interrupting him, I could see that he wanted to tell me that just because he didn't show that side of himself to me he knew that was who Joe was underneath, but I didn't let him. "That's his COUSIN, Howard," Dad's mouth was open and it looked like he was trying to process what I was saying. "Howard Kessler works for the agency too, he just happens to be -" a fucking disaster, that's how I would describe Monkey, but that wasn't going to cut it right now. "You guys met him at the reception," that you and Mom were INTENT on throwing after Joe and I had refused the option of a huge wedding. "He was the one -"

Dawning realization bloomed on my Dad's face and then staggering horror, which served him right. "Oh, Veronica," was that a tone of apology that was stirring? "Sweetheart," holding up my hand, I shrugged.

"Too late," opening my car door, I climbed in and started it. Rolling down my window, I shook my head at where he stood looking as if he'd fucked up majorly, which he did. "It's too late to fix that, Dad," and as I started to leave, I felt like I had to warn him. "And maybe too late to fix this."