Author's Note: Haha! Oops. I forgot Bradford's call sign changed with his promotion! Updated previous chapters.

Chen looked over at Ella when the latter's phone dinged.

"Sorry, I know. Personal stuff is locker stuff. I'll just put it on silent real quick."

"Sure, or you could answer it real quick. I mean, we're not driving yet."

Ella shot her a graceful smile and got out her phone. There was a second message from Chloe, "You still alive?"

She had to answer now, and did so begrudgingly: "At work. Can't talk."

Then she put it away and buckled up. Realizing the shop was still not running, she looked at her new T.O. in time to see her lean forward and turn on the radio. She couldn't help but gawk and say, "Bradford never listens to the radio."

"I know."

"Right, you were his Boot, too, it musta...slipped the ol' noggin," she said, with forced humor.

"I'll try not to emulate him." Chen locked eyes with her. "I'll try to be firm, but fair. Illuminating, but kind. No more Tim Tests."

At Ella's impartial acceptance of her words, Chen frowned a little and said, "Did you at least have three?"

"I'm actually a little shy of three."

"Wow. Guess you dodged a bullet."

Ella felt a rush of gratitude at her words, even if she appeared jealous. She started the motion of buckling up, realized she already had, and smiled at her new, watchful T.O., whose mere expression made Ella feel uneasy―like she was a UXO. She immediately felt the need to explain herself. "Yeah, I'm just, I have so much on my mind right now, just... Overload, really."

"I'm sorry," Chen said, sounding sorry indeed, "But you need to turn it off. You have to check yourself. You're about to hit the street with a loaded handgun and no idea what happens next. Both our lives are in my hands... They're in yours, too."

Ella nodded and tried to focus on quieting her tumultuous thoughts as Chen began to drive.

For several moments, Chen was quiet, letting Ella clear her head; finally she had to ask, "So how are you transitioning to Mid-Wilshire so far?"

"There are definitely some...speedbumps. But I like the road anyway." Ella tilted her head, frowning, not unaware that her T.O. had flashed her a smile of approval. "I am a little concerned about Bradford being, maybe, out to get me."

"What do you mean? In what regard?"

"Well, he said if he 'really put a microscope on it', I was 'downright impersonating an officer.' I mean, am I?"

"Not deliberately. You're just making the best out of a blunder, you know, you're trying to live. Everybody makes mistakes, and in this instance, it wasn't you. If I were to look at it through a microscope," Chen shrugged, "I would think Sergeant Grey should be held accountable. And it could be as simple as being overworked in the first place. Honestly, he was considering retirement a long time ago."

"Why didn't he?"

Chen smiled. "Oh, Aaron Thorsen was a rookie, and he was being blamed for a crime he never committed. So he stayed on to help set things right, and... I don't know, after the dust settled, it all kind of went back to normal. I guess he's just set in his ways." She spared her own rookie a quick glance. "And, for all we know, the fault is someone else's."

"How does that work?"

"It's not entirely implausible to assume he'd have a pair of helping hands. Somebody of his rank... All those duties..."

"You care a lot about him."

Chen closed her mouth, shrugged, and finally nodded. "I joined the force a lifetime ago. He was already here, and he's been with us through thick and thin."

"So you want someone else to be at fault. Right?"

"Yeah, kind of, I guess. But not you, either," Chen floundered. "Because you're just trying to live, and he...is a good man."

"I totally sensed that."

Chen smiled, thinking she would get along great with Juarez. Coming to the first intersection, she slowed at the red light, tapping her fingers soundlessly on the steering wheel. In an awkward silence, their faces slipped into frowns when the bobblehead figurine began to bounce and the freshener hanging off her mirror began to tremble. As they began feeling it in their seats, Ella spared her new T.O. a tentative glance. "Earthquake?"

Chen tilted her head, trying to deduce the source of the vibrations, until they realized suddenly it was a helicopter. It quickly became obvious that it was flying very low, and they twisted in their seats trying to find it, not even aware that everybody was doing the same. They had heard it long before they could see it, but finally, once the noise was deafening and drowned out all other sounds, the blue and white helicopter roared past―barely higher than the police station.

Chen waited to speak until she could almost hear her own breaths. "Something's going on."

"If it's a police helicopter...should we follow it?"

"Sounds fair to me," Chen said, as she started up the shop. Before she began driving, she gave her two-way radio a little squeeze. "7-Adam-19, attach us to the airship."

Ella looked out the passenger window and tried not to imagine herself and Chen handcuffed to the exterior of a plane, just flapping around.

"Copy, 7-Adam-19. In pursuit of a bombing suspect going north on LaBrea."

Chen spared Ella a glance, and recognized the look of half-prepared stubbornness on her face. "You can get out, you don't have to do this!"

"What kind of cop would that make me?"

"The new kind, with her whole life ahead of her."

"And what are you, 40?" Ella asked, assuming she would be much older and she herself was being rude.

Chen tilted her head, stepping on the gas. "Actually I'm 35."

The shop was hit by a complete and deafening silence that only grew, as did Chen's discomfort when she realized the conversation, amicable only seconds before, and days before that, had taken an abrupt halt. She glanced over as soon as she had an opening, to see Ella staring in horror at the vacant road ahead.

"Do I need cream that bad?" Chen tried to joke.

"No, it... You're my junior. You're my T.O. and you're my junior. It, I," her words failed.

"It's okay. I mean, look at Nolan. He was the world's oldest rookie when he joined. 45 years old."

Ella let out a half-sob. "I'm 46!"

Chen's expression briefly registered horror as well, then she said, "I'm gonna stop talking now. No, wait," she hastily amended, "No, take Smitty for example. He's 63 and he's barely competent. You know as well as I do Sergeant Grey's raking him over the coals right now... You keep your nose to the grindstone, and you'll surpass him. Okay, I promise you that. It-it's kind of hard to look into your eyes right now and still be a law-abiding citizen, but I know you will." She managed to reach over and put a hand on her arm, however briefly.

"All units, be advised. Suspect is now on foot entering Jim Gilliam Park," the radio chattered.

Chen seemed to ignore it, visibly struggling to find words; finally she formed a sentence. "I can―I can pull over, let you out. I don't mind going alone."

"I think a partner should watch their partner's six."

"You're supposed to be looking at a computer screen, not―"

"I'm fine, okay?" she interrupted. "Just... Let's just go, I c... I can't learn to fight by always hiding from danger."

Chen bit her lip, giving it brief thought, then pushed a button that caused the siren to emit a hasty chirp before escalating into a wail as she stepped on the gas.

The drive to Jim Gilliam Park took only a minute or two, and it was surrounded by empty shops. The street was a ghost town, and a chopper circled overhead. Looking into the park, Ella saw a line of blue. None of their guns were raised, and as Chen and Ella rushed to join their fellow officers, they realized their "suspect" was crying and shaking. Ella's observant eyes quickly found the bomb she was actually trying to not detonate, strapped to her ankle. She had been weeping quietly, defeatedly; at 7-Adam-19's arrival, she once again grew hysteric. "No! No, stay back! I don't want to die, I don't want to kill you!" she shouted, backing up some more. The line stubbornly crept forward. In the hesitant silence filled only with resigned sobs, Bradford looked at Ella in thinly-veiled annoyance.

"What is she doing here?" he asked Chen.

"She wanted to do her job," Ella said, with a chill in her voice.

"Tone, Lopez. I may not be stuck as your T.O. anymore, but I'm still your sergeant."

"If I may interrupt, we have a bigger fish," Nolan practically whispered, "And you two are leaving her on the grill."

"Who put that on you?" Chen asked the victim.

"I don't know. Some man. Said he was one of the twelve disciples!"

"Oh, brother," somebody groaned.

"How much time is left?" Chen pressed.

"Less than three minutes, please, you have to help me!" the victim said, turning her sentence into one word.

"Now we can't do that unless you let us come over," Nolan answered.

Before she could give him permission, a man's taunting voice came out of thin air. "I'm afraid that would be an obstruction of justice."

"Who said that?" Bradford shouted.

The victim dug into her pocket, pulling out a flip phone with a black screen. "It's me," the phone said, "The first disciple."

"What does that mean?" Chen asked.

"Ooh, sorry. Afraid I can't indulge your inquiries. Andrea here is a stepping stone to a better tomorrow. Justice will prevail."

"You're delusional," Bradford said. "Justice is our job, and after we save Andrea, we're coming for you."

"There is no saving Andrea. I've made the wires inaccessible to you."

"Name your price," Sergeant Grey's voice, emanating from Ella's right, made her search for him, but she couldn't see much past Bradford's tall form.

Even the man's laughter was taunting. "I thought Sergeant Bradford and I already established her name."

"Two minutes!" Andrea said pleadingly.

"Y'all better stand back. We all love watching a firework display, but nobody loves the permanent ear damage."

Chen sputtered nonsense as Ella rushed forward and dropped to her uniform-clad knees in the dirt, attempting to access the wires.

"Don't you have any control over your Boot?" Ella faintly heard Bradford asked, then he added, "Oh, geez. Really?"

And then Nolan was kneeling beside her, attempting to assist.

"There's no point," Andrea said, in a soft, resigned voice. "You need a screwdriver."

Ella twisted to face her new T.O. "Got a hairpin?"

Chen was removing it before it had even registered in her mind what she had asked for. Ella left Andrea's side long enough to retrieve it, then tried to jimmy it like she was picking a lock. Realizing Nolan's hands had stilled, she looked up into his sad eyes.

Seeing the urgency in hers, Nolan turned his eyes to the line of cops, equally as resigned as the victim. "A knife," he requested.

Several officers began reaching for their knife, and were stopped by more of the man's taunting laughter. "Well, that's one way to reach the wires. They run all the way through. To be clear, this woman is supposed to die."

"Please. Can they at least shoot me? It's more humane!"

"Somebody tell the blonde why that's a bad idea."

"Because if we kill her," Bradford said, fighting for breath as well as words, "She releases the button and kills us."

"Is whoever asked for a hairpin blonde, too?" the first disciple asked. "Now, if you all will excuse me, I'm down to 4%."

The screen lit up, announcing the end of the call.

Ella stared into Nolan's grim eyes. "Come on, we have to do something!"

"Uh, maybe he was lying about the wires going through," Juarez piped up.

"Is that a risk we're all willing to take?" Nolan asked. He didn't look away from Ella.

She only broke eye contact when she saw the line beginning to disperse. Several officers had broken away and were heading back to their shops. Then several more, and several more after that. Half the line. Most of the line. Following the distant drone of radio communication, the helicopter left as well, until the only audible noise was the beeping of the timer, ticking down to zero.

If there was ever a time for it, Ella decided, it was now. She stood up and gave the woman a careful hug. "I'm sorry."

Andrea was silent, staring ahead. She tried to be stoic, but couldn't stop the tears. She didn't try.

"Ready on the water?" the radio chattered, as Ella walked away. She had to force her feet to keep moving.

"Affirmative."

Seeing Juarez growing impatient, Ella turned back around to see Nolan still talking to the woman. He put a hand on her shoulder and finally walked towards the rest of the cops.

"What was so important back there?" Juarez demanded.

"She wants me to break into her house and get her cats to take them to a shelter."

Juarez considered, her wide eyes flicking around. "Yeah, we have to do that."

"And in doing so, we're supposed to alert them of Muffin's pregnancy," his words trailed off as Ella parted from them, heading to her own shop. Her feet faltered as there came the explosion behind her, and she had to force herself not to look. With difficulty, mostly inspired by the fact that every other police officer had no trouble watching the woman's death, she kept putting one foot in front of the other, until she had reached the shop. Still reluctant, even after the helicopter flew overhead to extinguish the flames, she looked at Chen, and then at Bradford, who stood nearby―watching like it was a gripping movie scene.

"How can you do that?" she asked, and his only acknowledgement of her words was to barely turn his head, without turning his eyes away from the nightmare behind her. "How can you watch her burn? All of you!" she added, motioning to the murder victim's attentive audience.

Only when the sound of water had stopped did he answer her. "Looking away is a sign of disrespect. We observe the tragedy so that it's easier to empathize with the victim's family; it lets them know they aren't alone, that we're all dealing with it."

Now regretting her cowardice, Ella opened the passenger door of the shop.

As usual, Ella was among the last ones to enter the conference room; not aware that it was a sign of regression, she paid no attention to Smitty's long sleeves. She rushed past all the other officers, wondering if the fear of being tripped would ever go away, as Sergeant Grey telegraphed to her a look that clearly read, "Welcome to the party, Tardy." He stood in front of a whiteboard, on which was written The 12 Disciples; beneath that was more religious stuff. Ella was skimming over it when Sergeant Grey continued the discussion to which she had obviously arrived late.

"He said Andrea was supposed to die, which means he's on some sort of mission. Obviously he's religious, so I want somebody to head down to the churches and interview the parishioners. Smitty," he suddenly said, "You think you can handle that?"

Smitty looked chagrined (or maybe just annoyed) as the other officers around him expressed mild amusement.

"If ever we catch him," Chen said, "He can't share a cell with Richard Dormer; last thing we need is for them to conspire."

"Oh my god," Ella blurted. Her eyes were fixed on the whiteboard, and she hardly noticed how all eyes were suddenly on her. "It's too late to worry about that."

"You know who Richard Dormer is?" Nolan asked.

"Yeah, he killed Pam Winfield; some kids recorded the... Not important," she said, waving a dismissive hand. "Anyway, somebody―maybe Andrea's guy―is already copycatting him. Somebody who's probably not even religious."

"Officer Lopez, I was still working my way up to the point of speculation," Sergeant Grey said.

"Sergeant, there were twelve disciples. Allegedly," she added. "So we would be remiss to just assume this guy is working alone! There could be eleven other accomplices running around terrorizing people."

"You think twelve people all have a bomb?" Bradford asked, doubtfully. "Maybe we can just get down to brass tacks again; you're wasting all our time."

She shrugged, nodding. "Yeah. Yeah, I mean... Every bank robber throughout time has always done it alone. Sure, it took a lot of stamina, to be the brute, the safe cracker, the getaway driver, and the Yosemite Sam, always shootin' his dang guns, but gosh, someone had to do it."

"Okay, let's say you're right," Sergeant Grey said. "Find and turn in any evidence of twelve missing bombs, and we'll do this your way."

She nodded as she stood. Though she had been among the last to enter the conference room, she was the very first to leave it.

"We're not really going to humor her, are we?" she heard Bradford ask, and she stopped on the other side of the interior window to give him a dirty look. Carrying on her way, she wandered into the computer room where Lopez Senior was staring intently at her screen; upon approach, she realized she was playing chess. Her words startled Angela, "You, uh, burning the midnight oil?"

"I'm gonna have to tie a bell around your neck."

"Sorry."

"Just another boring day. I never should have left patrol."

"Oh. Well, I need to gather evidence of any number of missing bombs higher than eleven because the twelve disciples are out there terrorizing people, so..." Ella nodded, glad she had at least made Angela's eyes light up. "Uh, Officer Chen is my new acting T.O., but since she kind of stayed behind and you have that look on your face, maybe you can help me instead."

"Sure. I'm open to anything but losing another game. Really thought I was more strategic than this," Angela grumped. "So what can I do to help?"

"Um, not...sure. Maybe I need the phone number for the military?"

"I'm a detective; I have them on speed dial." Angela gave her an empty, off-putting smile. "It has nothing to do with my love life at all."

She leaned forward, picking up her phone and inviting Ella to sit on her desk. After initiating the phone call, Angela continued holding her phone out in front of her, and Ella realized she was going to be on video―making her wish she had spent a little more time on her skincare. She was still smoothing out her uniform when a handsome, uniformed man appeared on the screen.

"Detective Lopez. What an unexpected pleasure," he said, with a certain measure of insincerity.

"General Walcott. I know we didn't end on a high note, but I need a favor."

"As I recall, you're already in my debt, Detective."

"Please, spare the theatrics. There are lives at stake, maybe more lives than I know," Wow, she made even that sound boring. "You're not just doing me a favor by helping out. You'll be doing a major disservice if you don't. Not just to the victims; their families."

General Walcott looked at her for a moment longer, with eyes the intense blue of an autumn sky; then he gave a curt nod. "Fine. What do you need?"

"I need you to take inventory of your bombs, get back to me."

He disconnected without saying anything more, and Ella moved closer, looking urgently at the field of black.

"Relax, he'll do it," Angela said, in a not-so-reassuring voice. "He just won't be doing it for me."

"Yeah, there doesn't seem to be a whole lot of love there," Ella said, and suddenly felt herself shrink about four feet as she surveyed her hostile smile. "Uh, sorry."

Angela's smile remained hostile and her words chilly, even though she thought the new girl was kind of delightful and a welcome addition to the precinct. "You know where to find me at the end of shift. If I'm not here, anyone can tell you my number." Then, trying to joke and be delightful as well, she added, "Officer Thorsen can, or Chen, or The Incredible Hunk!"

Instead of making her laugh, Angela had to watch the girl's face turn fifty shades of red. She dipped her head down, giving a humiliated nod as she beat a hasty retreat towards the washrooms. Angela groaned, "Oh, damn."

Making it into the restroom, Ella sighed and hesitated for a moment, dreading to face the mirror and see what the General had seen. When she did, she saw a tiny little scientist, way in over her head; a little girl who, in that moment, wanted nothing more than to spar with a brother while waiting for her mother's homemade brazo de gitano to come out of the oven. Second to that, she at least wanted a fresh layer of makeup. Absently, one hand reached up to feel the smooth fabric where the subtle lump of her cross pendant was missing―which indicated that something else was missing. She closed her eyes, feeling the cold, burning sting of her own loneliness.

It felt like everything―her life, the whole world―was racing by, and she was just standing still. Watching these streaks of color that were actually other people, other lives. Whenever she had a moment to herself, a moment to dwell on her own darkness, each passing moment was just a wave of destruction, racing to the shore. Getting bigger, and bigger, and bigger, like a snowball rolling down a slope. Waiting to ambush her with a cataclysmic embrace. At least three times a day since Maze's wedding, she had found it easier to fake a laugh around friends, than it was to breathe when she was alone. And she had no idea what to do with herself. Finding out the truth hadn't provided any answers. If anything, she was left with more questions. Questions she didn't want answered. But she knew it was inevitable. It was going to be forced on her, like...rape.

The tears that stung her eyes had nothing to do with Angela's teasing. Ironic, how the people who had angered her were the only people she could relate to, and speak openly to about it all. She didn't want to see them, but she found herself profoundly needing to. So it was an awfully good thing to know she was just a stupid, insignificant rookie nobody needed or wanted in the first place. Forcing the tears from her eyes, she took a moment to get her bearings before she exited the washroom, and, ignoring Angela's call, she went as swiftly as her "weak" legs would carry her.

Traffic beyond the computer room had picked up a little, and she quite literally bumped into Thorsen.

"Oops. Sorry," he said impulsively, before noticing that she was barely holding herself together. "Uh, you okay?"

"No. Yes. Where's the locker room? Please," she added as an afterthought.

"Uh," he answered gracefully. He turned and looked through the crowd, wondering how well she could follow directions in the chaos. "I'm going there anyway," he lied, "Let me take you."

"Thanks. Please."

He accompanied her to the locker and went to his, making the mistake of looking at her as she was letting her hair down. Long and lovely, it fell down to her stomach in long waves of ebony and mahogany silk, transforming her from a lost rookie to a beautiful creature, a divine woman with tears in her eyes. When she looked at him, he looked quickly at his locker, finally opening it. "Yeah, I forgot..." he muttered, scanning frantically for something he really didn't need. "This," he finished, closing his fist around air. Then he stuck his fist in his pocket, pretending to tuck it away before he shut his locker.

Ella put her uniform into the locker she now shared with Chen, sparing a distasteful glance at a photo of Bradford stuck to the door before she isolated his face in darkness. "Thanks for showing me the way," she gently punched his chest, "Thor."

He grinned and stepped away from his locker. She followed him out of the room and into the hallway, meandering towards the much quieter, emptier lobby.

"Can't help but notice you're ducking out almost four hours ahead of schedule."

"Yeah. I'm dispensable, and my head's not in the game right now."

"This isn't a game."

"No, I didn't mean..." she began, and averted her eyes, finally mumbling another apology.

"Look, you're lucky you're just talking to me right now. But don't call it that with one of the higher-ups."

His words only intensified her hatred of all the cocky men with overinflated egos, kind of like Bradford. After all, if Amenadiel could be humble after getting the world's biggest promotion...

Uncomfortable with her silence, he pressed, "They, uh, wouldn't like it. It's hard enough to find your place around here, and it is their life. Or their death," His eyes went to the skin of the phone she had begun using. "Hey, we both have the smiley faces on our phone."

"No, this is your phone. I'm giving you my number." He didn't even feel it when she put it back in his pocket. "I won't be back tonight, but could you have the other Lopez call me?" she asked, impulsively pointing at the name on her shirt as if to clarify.

"Yeah, o-okay. Freaky pickpocketer."

She graced him with the shadow of a smile. "Bye, Thor."

He quickly stepped past her to open the door, watching as she stepped into the light of day. It really highlighted her hair and made the mahogany stand out, and he felt his breath catch at her beauty. He let the door close, wishing she would turn to look at him and he could see what her face looked like when it was struck by the sun. But she didn't, walking determinedly to the bus stop. He quickly took out his phone, found her number, and called it, watching her get out her phone.

She hadn't gotten his number, so she didn't know who was calling, and greeted him with the standard, "Hello?"

"You drove here," he said succinctly, and watched her turn around to see him still standing there.

"Oh. Right. Thank you," she said, and disconnected. She abandoned the bus stop, and hadn't taken ten steps when the bus drove right on by.

Surprisingly, Chloe and Linda didn't object to meeting up again. This time Ella didn't order water, and they watched how the bottle trembled against her greedy mouth.

"So how's work?" Chloe asked.

Realizing Linda wasn't answering, Ella lowered the bottle and pressed her thumb to her bottom lip as she felt some of the booze begin to trickle. "Uh, it's...not good. Somebody was run over the other day, and just earlier somebody else got blown up..." Now she hesitated, feeling a wave of self-hatred wash over her. It had been her theory that there were twelve baddies―twelve, and here she was, drinking her problems away. Not that she could. "And I was supposed to watch her die, out of respect. Not let her...sacrifice go unrecognized. But I didn't know that, until she was gone, all burned away; I get to sleep tonight while everyone else, everyone I have to sustain while they sustain me, has the image burned in their heads." She cringed at the metaphor and impulsively chugged again.

"Having to look? That's not a thing," Chloe said.

"Well, it's a thing at Mid-Wilshire, Chloe!" Ella announced, and the detective raised her hands in an I'll-just-back-off-now kind of gesture. Drawing a shuddering breath, Ella tilted her bottle from side to side, finally clunking it onto the bar. "This would be so much easier if I still thought the whole deal was a-a-a...mystery novel, something we had to wonder about. But now I know it's non-fiction, you know, it's a freakin' autobiography, and it totally sucks. I don't need my faith anymore, because I have facts. I have all the facts, and ironically, now," she shrugged with a nervous laugh, "Now that I know I was right, and the Big Guy is real, I don't have him."

"Well, you could," Linda interjected. "You're not denying his existence, all of a sudden... You're ghosting him. Frankly, I mean―how can you even do that, without ghosting Amenadiel?"

Ella maintained eye contact as long as she could, then averted her eyes when tears began to blur her view. Damn it, more tears? How many times could a person cry in one day?

"He hasn't insulted you, has he?" Linda asked, sounding like she already knew the answer. And, of course, she did.

"No. No, of course not."

"Then why wouldn't you want to see him again?"

"I do. Of course I do. I just..." Ella shook her head, then let it fall back so she was staring at the ceiling. She groaned, loudly. "Don't want to move in with him."

Her phone vibrated, and she answered quickly, also a little loudly. "Hello?!"

It got the attention of the entire pub. Chloe cringed, but chuckled with Linda.

"You were right," Angela said, "Twelve bombs went missing on November 3rd, 2024."

"Great. Uh, I mean... You know what I mean. What's the next step?"

"For you, a lovely little hangover. We'll take your lead."

"Thanks, Lopez Senior," she knew it was a mistake the minute she said it, and her wide eyes went to her amused friends. With slow and jerky movements, she ended the call. "Yeah, that'll get me fired," she muttered.

"Well, you can read an X-Ray. Maybe you could...be a doctor," Linda shrugged.

"Dr. Lopez," she said, tasting the name. Then she made a face, waving her hands. "Ah, no. Never... Never mind. Anyway, enough about me. How's your baby?" she asked Chloe.

"Mmm... Did you know angel babies spit up just as much as human babies?"

"Ew."

"I did know that, actually," Linda laughed.

"Okay," Ella said, with a breathless chuckle. "And...that's enough of that!"

It didn't take long for their inebriated giggles to subside, and they stared in solemnly at the counter, or the shelves ahead. Finally Ella murmured, "I miss Lucifer."

"Me, too," Chloe said wistfully.

"Yeah," Linda mumbled.

"Dan," Ella added.

"And Charlie."

Chloe brandished her bottle, thinking for a moment. "This one's for the boys."

They clinked their glasses together and began to drink―with Linda spitting hers out, Chloe choking, and Ella spilling all over herself when Mazikeen materialized between them and the bar.

"What?" she asked, "No toast to me?"

They gawked at her, and she alternated each shocked face with a smile upon her own.

No longer coughing, Chloe brandished her bottle to include Maze in the toast, but could only breathe hard; in the silence, Linda raised her glass. "Hear, hear!"