Fred wasn't sure if he was about to be hexed, interrogated, or both.

All he knew was that he was trapped.

Lorelei Nightingale had cornered him outside the Quidditch pitch, the damp ground squelching beneath his shoes as he took an involuntary step back. The wooden walls behind him felt solid and unmovable, a stark contrast to the sinking feeling in his stomach. The sky was starting to darken, the evening creeping in slowly, and most of the students at the match had already made their way toward the castle for dinner.

But not Fred.

And definitely not Lorelei.

His instincts screamed at him to find a way out, to joke his way past her, to run, but Lorelei wasn't the kind of person you could talk circles around. She wasn't the type to be easily distracted or won over by charm.

She had already made up her mind. She knew something.

Fred had hoped to avoid this. He'd asked Serena and Padma if they should include Lorelei in their planning, if maybe she would be open to giving him advice.

Serena had snorted at the idea. "Lorelei can keep a secret about as well as a howler."

That had been the end of the discussion. And now, standing here under her piercing gaze, Fred really wished he'd pushed harder.

It had been at least a full minute since she'd planted herself in front of him, and she still hadn't said a word. Lorelei's dark eyes were locked onto his, and for someone so much smaller than him, she had an absolutely terrifying presence.

Fred had been in plenty of fights before. He'd faced angry shopkeepers, irritated professors, his mum — Merlin, his mum — but this? This was something else.

Lorelei wasn't just angry. She was calculating. Sizing him up.

It was making him sweat.

The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating.

Fred thought about saying something but his gut told him to keep his mouth shut. For once in his life, he listened.

Finally, Lorelei spoke.

"What are you planning?"

His pulse spiked.

He plastered on the most casual expression he could muster. "No idea what you're on about."

Lorelei's gaze didn't waver. "Don't waste my time, Weasley."

The urge to deflect, to turn this into a joke, flared up out of habit. He could tell her he was planning to smuggle a dragon into the common room. He could act confused, pretend like she was imagining things.

But he knew better than that. Playing dumb wasn't going to work.

She took a step closer, voice dropping. "I know you've been sneaking around with Serena and Padma."

Fred's stomach did a neat little flip.

He raised both hands, palms out. "Okay, we are not 'sneaking around'."

"Oh? And what are you doing?"

Fred scrambled for something — anything — that wouldn't get him hexed. "I've been helping them study."

A beat. Then Lorelei let out a sharp, humorless laugh.

"You?" she said, her tone dripping with disbelief. "You're trying to tell me you — Fred Weasley — have suddenly become an academic enthusiast?"

"Look, I—"

"You think I'm stupid?" she cut in. "Why would they go to you for schoolwork?"

Fred exhaled through his nose, trying to keep his frustration in check. Because yeah, okay, fair point.

Lorelei shook her head, irritation rolling off her in waves. "I know this is about Cassie."

Fred's throat went dry. That sharp, pointed certainty in her voice sent a jolt through him. He kept his expression neutral, but his heart was pounding.

Lorelei wasn't just guessing. She definitely knew.

And if she knew — if she was confronting him now — then that meant she wasn't just curious.

She really was angry.

She took another step forward, closing the gap between them. "Something's up, and you've been acting weird all year. If you're planning something against her—"

"I like Cassie, okay!"

The words exploded out of him before he could stop them.

The weight of them crashed down around him, ringing in his ears. He could've tried to talk his way out of this, could've spun something clever or at least plausible, but instead, he'd just — said it.

Lorelei stilled.

Fred's chest rose and fell, his breath coming quicker than it should've.

She didn't believe him. It was written all over her face. The way her brow creased, the way her lips pressed into a thin line.

"Don't lie to me."

He bristled. "I'm not—"

"You've never taken anything seriously a day in your life," she snapped. "And now I'm supposed to believe this? That you suddenly have actual feelings for Cassie?"

The frustration boiled over into something hotter, heavier.

Fred inhaled sharply, fingers curling into fists at his sides. "I do."

Lorelei's stare was unyielding.

It felt like she was waiting for him to break, waiting for him to admit this was some elaborate joke or prank.

But Fred didn't break.

Because this wasn't a joke. This wasn't some passing interest or moment of boredom. This was Cassie.

A beat of silence. Then, finally, she tilted her head. "Why?"

Fred opened his mouth — then shut it again.

Why?

How the hell was he supposed to explain it? It wasn't logical. It wasn't something he could just sum up neatly in a sentence. His thoughts scrambled, trying to grasp onto something concrete.

He swallowed. And suddenly, before he could stop himself, the words started spilling out.

"Because it's her."

Lorelei's expression didn't change. She just watched him.

Fred ran a hand through his hair, exhaling hard. "Because — because she's the smartest person I've ever met but never makes anyone feel stupid. Because she tucks her hair behind her ear when she's focused and doesn't even realize she's doing it. Because she's funny, but not in a way that's trying to be."

The emotions swelled, pressing against his ribs, threatening to burst out of him.

"Because she's got this way of looking at people — like she really sees them. And — Merlin, I don't know — because even when she's doing nothing, just existing, she's—" he exhaled sharply "—she's just Cassie."

His heart was racing. His breath felt too shallow.

Lorelei just stood there, silent.

Fred realized he'd been rambling, spilling way too much, laying everything bare when he had no idea how she was going to respond.

The weight of it all pressed down on him, a crushing uncertainty curling in his gut.

Then, finally, she spoke.

"One chance."

Fred's breath hitched.

Lorelei's voice was even, but firm. "You get one chance."

Something loosened in his chest, the relief coming so fast and so sharp it nearly knocked the air from his lungs.

"If you mess this up — if you break her heart — I will personally make Voldemort seem like an easy enemy."

Fred nodded so fast he was surprised his head didn't fly off. "Understood."

Lorelei watched him for another long second before finally — finally — easing up. The tension in her shoulders loosened, and a ghost of a smirk tugged at her lips.

"I actually like you, you know," she said, like it was an offhand comment. "You're funny."

Fred blinked. That…was unexpected.

"But," she continued, voice sharp again, "Cassie is like a sister to me. And I don't play around when it comes to my friends."

Fred nodded, swallowing thickly. "I really do like her," he said, and it came out softer than he expected. "I'd never intentionally hurt her."

Lorelei didn't say anything at first.

Then, she jerked her head toward the castle. "Come on," she said. "We should get to dinner."

Fred let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Yeah. Good call."

They walked in silence, but the tension had shifted.

For the first time all evening, Fred thought maybe he hadn't completely screwed this up.

Then, just as they reached the Entrance Hall, Lorelei threw a smirk over her shoulder.

"Oh, and I'm so telling Padma and Serena you dropped the ball on your little secret."

Fred groaned. "Just — don't tell Cassie."

Fred didn't understand how a single conversation could leave him feeling exhausted.

It wasn't like he wasn't used to being questioned. Professors, prefects, his own parents — he'd had his fair share of interrogations. But Lorelei? She had the kind of stare that made you feel like you'd already done something wrong.

Even now, as he stepped into the Great Hall, he could still feel the weight of her stare. Not literally — she'd split off toward the Ravenclaw table — but he could tell she was still watching.

George, already at their usual spot, clocked it immediately. He nudged Lee and tilted his head toward the entrance.

Fred knew that look.

Here we go.

He braced himself, dropping onto the bench beside them.

"What was that?" George asked, not even bothering with a greeting.

"What was what about?"

"You and Lorelei. You stayed behind. It looked like you had a pretty tense conversation."

Lee smirked. "Oh, I know that look." He twirled his spoon idly. "Someone's in trouble."

Fred groaned, rubbing his face. "Yeah, yeah. She cornered me. Wanted to know what I was up to."

George's brows lifted. "And?"

"And it was a bloody interrogation. She acted like I was the least trustworthy person in this entire school."

"Well…you are you."

Angelina, who had just reached for a goblet of pumpkin juice, blinked. "Wait, what's going on?"

Fred shot George a glare. "Oi."

Lee chuckled. "To be fair, mate, it's not that you're untrustworthy, it's just—" He gestured vaguely. "Y'know. Like George said. You're you."

"That's still not an explanation."

George leaned back, as if considering. "Okay, let's put it this way. When people think of Fred Weasley, do they think, ah, yes, a dependable, serious, trustworthy fellow?"

Angelina, brows still drawn in confusion, glanced between them. "What are you lot even talking about—"

"So what, just because I like a good laugh, everyone thinks I'm incapable of sincerity?"

George placed a hand over his heart, mock solemn. "The tragic price of being a comedian."

Fred rolled his eyes. "Brilliant. Love that for us."

Angelina tried again. "Okay, but what—"

"It's just frustrating. Sometimes I wish people actually took me seriously."

"Ah, but that is the burden we bear, dear brother."

Lee nodded. "Cursed with charisma."

Angelina leaned forward. "Hold on—"

Fred scoffed. "Oh, that's what it is?"

Finally, Angelina had enough. With zero hesitation, she slammed her goblet onto the table, sending a splash of pumpkin juice onto George's sleeve.

"Can someone actually explain what's going on before I start hexing people?"

The group froze. Three heads turned toward her.

Angelina exhaled sharply. "Thank you." She turned to Fred. "Now. What's going on? Why are you suddenly worried about people taking you seriously?"

Fred hesitated. "Er—"

Lee, entirely unhelpful, grinned. "It's 'cause he's in love. Her name's Cassie."

Fred groaned, dropping his head into his hands.

"With who?"

The boys subtly gestured toward the Ravenclaw table, where Cassie was sitting. Angelina's gaze followed, her brows furrowing. She studied Cassie for a second, then blinked.

"Wait—her?"

Fred bristled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Angelina held up a hand. "No, I just—" She squinted at Cassie, something clicking. "I went to her birthday party, didn't I?"

George smirked, patting her shoulder. "Yep."

"I didn't even know it was her birthday." She looked vaguely horrified. "Merlin, I feel like a right prat."

"Happens to the best of us."

She waved him off. "Alright, so let me get this straight. You like her, and you're, what? Struggling to tell her?"

Fred shifted. "I just — It's not that simple."

"You literally stood in front of Snape and told him his hair was disgusting, but this is where you draw the line?"

"I don't want to screw this up," Fred admitted, rubbing a hand over his face. "What if I make a mess of things and she hates me forever?"

George snorted. "Bit dramatic, don't you think?"

"Says the bloke who once declared he'd 'never know happiness again' because Angelina canceled one Hogsmeade date."

Angelina rolled her eyes. "Alright, so you're scared. I get it. But it's just a girl, not a Hungarian Horntail. You like her, so just tell her."

Fred groaned. "It's not that simple! I don't want to just blurt it out and freak her out. What if she's never even thought about me like that? What if she thinks I'm just being a joke?"

"Look, I don't know what else to tell you. All I know is you three are absolutely hopeless when it comes to romance."

George slung an arm around her shoulder. "And yet, we are a success story."

Angelina rolled her eyes. "It's a miracle."

She took a sip of pumpkin juice, then set the goblet down, turning back to Fred. "Alright, so — do you have any plans to ask her to Hogsmeade?"

Fred blinked. "What?"

"Hogsmeade. It's literally the perfect excuse to hang out. Doesn't even have to be a date."

Fred exhaled, rubbing a hand over his chin. "I want to, but…" He exchanged a glance with George.

"But?"

George sighed, leaning forward. "We've been trying to track down Ludo Bagman."

Angelina frowned. "The old Quidditch player? Why?"

"Because," Fred said, frustration creeping into his voice, "he still owes us our winnings from the World Cup."

Lee snorted. "Oh, brilliant. Yes, because known gambling addict and shady businessman Ludo Bagman is definitely going to pay up."

Fred shot him a look but didn't argue.

George continued, "We heard he's got a meeting at the Three Broomsticks next Hogsmeade trip. Figured we'd catch him there and make him cough up what he owes us."

Angelina gave them a long, sympathetic look. "You two do realize you're probably never seeing that money, right?"

Fred tensed, his jaw tightening. "We're not giving up on it."

"But—"

"No, Angie," George said, shaking his head. "You don't get it. We've been dreaming about opening our shop since we were kids. We're not just gonna cut our losses and move on."

Angelina sighed. "I get that. I do. But you could earn the money after you graduate. You don't have to do it right this second."

Fred let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. "Right, because we should just sit around, wasting time, and hope that someday — maybe — we can afford it?"

"It's not wasting time, Fred. It's just — being realistic."

"Realistic," Fred repeated flatly. He scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to rein in his frustration.

He hated this — hated the way people acted like this was just some ridiculous little idea they'd cooked up last summer. Like it was something they could just toss aside and come back to whenever it was convenient.

He and George had been talking about this for years. They weren't just playing at being joke shop owners — they'd been joke shop owners since their first year. The first Canary Creams had been tested by friends in the Gryffindor common room. The Skiving Snackboxes had been brainstormed on scraps of parchment during History of Magic. They'd whispered about their future shop in the dead of night, sketching out plans in the margins of old spellbooks, trying to figure out how much money it would take, how much they'd need to sell.

Fred could still remember the way George had insisted their shop needed to be right in the heart of Diagon Alley — the best place, not some dusty little side street. The way he had promised, We'll do it, no matter what it takes.

And now Angelina was telling him to wait?

Wait, while some other bloke snatched up their dream shop? Wait, while the best years of their life passed them by?

Fred exhaled sharply, fingers curling against his knees, trying to stop the restless energy building in his chest. "You don't get it," he said finally, voice quieter but no less firm. "It's not just about 'finding another shop someday.' It's about this shop. It's about our dream. We've wanted this since we were eleven years old. And if we wait, if we just — sit on our arses and hope things work out — someone else is gonna take it from us."

Angelina hesitated, torn between sympathy and reason.

Lee, who had been uncharacteristically quiet during Fred's outburst, finally leaned back, arms crossed. "Right, well. Guess that means we'll just have to up our sales again, then."

George let out a huff of laughter, some of the tension easing.

"Yeah. Can't let those poor students go without their essential prank supplies."

Fred exhaled, rolling his shoulders, grateful for the way Lee had steered them away from the edge. "Exactly. And besides, what else are we supposed to do? Get proper jobs?"

Angelina snorted, shaking her head. "Merlin forbid."

The conversation with Lee and Angelina had left Fred feeling lighter, the frustration of the past few weeks not quite gone, but at least dulled by laughter and good company. Bagman was still a right prat, but their shop wasn't going under anytime soon.

Life moved on.

For now, though, there were other things to deal with. Classes had picked up, dragging them toward the second Hogsmeade weekend at a pace both too fast and too slow. Fred hadn't had much time to dwell on the money situation — not when he had actual schoolwork to catch up on.

The library was especially quiet for a Friday afternoon, the usual low hum of chatter dulled by the promise of Hogsmeade weekend. Most students had already finished their work for the week, eager to shove their responsibilities aside in favor of butterbeer and Honeydukes.

Fred wasn't so lucky.

He was slouched at a table with George, an ink-smudged roll of parchment in front of him and a Transfiguration textbook he hadn't actually opened yet. He had, however, spent a solid five minutes balancing his quill between his nose and upper lip, which was arguably a more impressive feat than whatever McGonagall wanted from them.

George was faring about the same. He had one elbow propped on the table, absently twirling his wand between his fingers as he stared at his unfinished essay.

Fred sighed dramatically. "D'you reckon McGonagall would accept interpretive dance instead of an essay?"

George didn't even look up. "Not unless you can physically turn into a hedgehog."

"Bet I could."

"Bet you'd get stuck."

Fred snorted, finally grabbing his quill and scribbling out another sentence. At the start of the year, he'd been having a rough go at keeping up, but now, he was doing better. Not spectacular, but better. At the very least, he wasn't at risk of McGonagall personally hunting him down for extra tutoring, which was good enough in his book.

He was just about to start another sentence when George's posture shifted slightly.

"Oi," he said under his breath. "Don't look now."

Fred immediately looked.

"Or do, that's fine."

Cassie had just walked in, bag slung over one shoulder, eyes scanning the library before heading toward a table a few rows away. She didn't notice them as she pulled out a chair and started unpacking her things.

Fred watched her for a moment, a slow smirk creeping onto his face. "She should sit with us."

George hummed in agreement. "Hmm. Gonna need to give her a reason to come over."

"Way ahead of you."

Cassie had just set her quill on the table when Fred gave it the lightest flick. The quill twitched, then lifted, floating gently toward them.

She didn't notice.

Fred barely held in his laughter as the quill hovered closer, finally plucking it from midair and tucking it into his pocket.

George smirked. "Very impressive. Real stealthy."

Cassie was still arranging her things, setting her inkpot beside her open notebook. Fred, barely holding in his laughter, gave another flick of his wand.

The inkpot wobbled, then began to drift upward.

This time, she noticed.

Her hand shot out, catching it before it got far. She frowned, glancing at it like she wasn't quite sure whether she'd imagined it. Her gaze flicked around the room, searching.

Fred and George immediately ducked behind their books.

"All right," George murmured. "She's suspicious."

Fred grinned. "Not enough."

Cassie hesitated for a moment before setting the inkpot back down, keeping a wary eye on it. Then, she exhaled and shook her head, muttering something under her breath before digging through her bag.

Fred twirled his wand between his fingers before nudging her stack of notes, watching as they inched toward the table's edge. Cassie narrowed her eyes, lips pressing into a thin line. A Ravenclaw sitting a few tables away shot her a weird look, as if she was the one moving her own things.

She let out a sharp breath through her nose, turning her attention back to her bag, completely missing the way her notes inched even closer to the edge.

Fred bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

Cassie rifled through her things for another quill, pausing when she didn't see hers on the table. She frowned slightly, then seemed to shake it off, grabbing another from her bag instead.

That was their cue.

Fred and George flicked their wands in tandem, and Cassie's notebooks lifted into the air. The pages folded neatly, sharp creases forming along the edges.

Then, all at once, they launched across the library. The first paper airplane zipped through the air, the others following right behind. Cassie turned back just in time to see her notes soaring away from her.

She froze, mouth slightly open. Fred and George lost it.

Cassie's head snapped around, eyes darting across the room until they landed on the two of them, both barely keeping it together. Fred had his fist pressed against his mouth, and George had all but collapsed onto the table, shaking with silent laughter.

Cassie exhaled through her nose, her expression a mix of frustration and reluctant amusement. She shook her head, hastily shoving the rest of her things into her bag before striding toward them.

Fred had mostly recovered by the time she reached them, though the grin hadn't quite left his face.

Cassie stopped in front of the table, arms crossed. "You do realize I need those, right?"

George smirked. "Yes, well. We figured we could deliver them personally."

Fred twirled her quill between his fingers before holding it out. "By owl, if you'd prefer."

Cassie rolled her eyes and plucked it from his hand. "You two are the worst."

"And yet, here you are."

"I never claimed to have good judgment."

Fred chuckled, nudging one of the paper planes toward her. "Careless, too. Imagine losing all your things in the span of five minutes."

Cassie snorted. "Yeah, yeah. Very funny. You done?"

Cassie sat down across from Fred and George, flicking her wand in one fluid motion. The paper airplanes the twins had crafted from her notes snapped back into their proper forms, smoothing out and stacking themselves neatly in front of her.

George let out a low whistle. "Blimey. No incantation, even? And here I thought we were the overachievers."

Fred smirked. "Tell me, Soapy, how does it feel to be everyone's least favorite person in the Transfiguration classroom?"

Cassie rolled her eyes as she dipped her quill into her inkpot. "I'd say ask McGonagall, but I'm pretty sure she's been waiting for an excuse to expel you two for years. Keep up with that nickname and I'll be right there alongside her."

Fred gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. "You wound me, you know."

"Oh, hush. You'll live."

Fred grinned, drumming his fingers against the table as she flipped open her notes. He liked this — Cassie sliding so easily into their little world, bickering with them like it was second nature.

They spent a while just chatting, their books open but mostly ignored.

"So, who wants to bet you're going to get O.W.L.s in every subject?" Fred asked, watching as Cassie scribbled something in the margins of her parchment.

Cassie snorted. "As if. I'm already planning a celebratory bonfire for my History of Magic notes."

George groaned. "Merlin, that's the only good use for that class."

"Herbology too. If I see another diagram of a Bubotuber, I might just throw myself into one."

Fred laughed. "Bit dramatic."

"Bit true."

George stretched his arms behind his head. "Well, I'm just ready to be done with all of it. Graduation can't come fast enough."

Cassie smirked. "You'll miss us all when you're gone."

"Oh, of course. I'll be completely inconsolable. An utter tragedy."

Fred watched the way Cassie's lips twitched, like she was holding back a laugh. She probably didn't realize how much he actually would miss her when he graduated.

He cleared his throat. "Speaking of leaving, what are your grand plans for Hogsmeade tomorrow?"

"Running errands."

George winced. "That is tragic."

"It's not so bad. You?"

Fred hesitated for a second. He thought about telling her the truth — that they were still dealing with Bagman's nonsense, that there was a chance their joke shop dreams could all go up in smoke if things didn't turn around soon. But she looked so at ease right now, twirling her quill between her fingers, amused by their antics. He didn't want to ruin that.

Fred glanced at George, who answered for both of them. "Bit of shopping. Got to stock up on supplies for the shop."

Cassie arched a brow. "How's that going?"

"We're drowning in orders."

Fred chuckled. "Turns out, if you put on a legendary fireworks display for New Year's, people will expect you to keep topping yourselves."

"Sounds like a nightmare."

George nodded. "Oh, it is. We love it."

"Maybe we'll run into each other," Fred teased. "You could help us shop."

"Maybe."

The conversation drifted between subjects — Hogsmeade, upcoming exams, the latest Quidditch drama — before eventually circling back to the Triwizard Tournament.

Cassie tapped her fingers against the table. "So…do you think the next task will be as bad as the dragons?"

Fred and George exchanged a look.

Fred grinned. "You do know what tournament you're watching, right?"

"Kind of the whole point, Cass."

"I know, I just — dragons, Fred. That was a bit much."

"You say that like it wasn't brilliant."

Fred was only half-joking. The tournament had been brutal so far, and if the first task had involved actual dragons, he didn't even want to guess what they'd throw at the champions next. Still, he couldn't help but imagine himself in the arena. He'd have loved the chance to prove himself, to pull off some ridiculous stunt and come out grinning on the other side.

George leaned forward. "If they had any sense, they'd have let us enter."

Cassie rolled her eyes. "Right. Because Hogwarts clearly needs the two of you setting things on fire for sport."

Fred gasped, all mock offense. "We'd be excellent champions."

"Menaces," she corrected.

"You'd have cheered for me, though."

Cassie didn't even look up. "In the same way I'd cheer for a circus act."

Fred snorted, but his mind conjured the image before he could stop it — Cassie standing in the crowd, smiling wide and eyes alight with amusement as he narrowly dodged whatever deadly obstacle the tournament threw at him. The thought shouldn't have made him grin, but it did.

Eventually, the conversation faded, the three of them settling into quiet work. Fred found himself oddly content, the quiet scratch of quills and occasional shifting of parchment oddly peaceful. Cassie, just across from him, was skimming her notes, her fingers idly tapping against the table.

It wasn't until Cassie glanced at the time that she suddenly sat up straighter.

"Oh, I have to go," she said, gathering her things. "I promised Flitwick I'd help with something."

Fred, without thinking, grinned. "Bet you're his favorite student."

"No bet. I know I am."

"And what does being Flitwick's favorite get you? Extra credit? Secret spell knowledge?" He smirked. "A kiss on that cute little cheek?"

Cassie blinked, and Fred's brain immediately caught up with what he'd just said.

George made a strangled noise, barely covering it with a cough. "Blimey, mate."

Heat crawled up Fred's neck. "I didn't — I meant, like—" He waved a hand. "Figuratively. Not—"

Cassie, to his horror, just grinned. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Fred didn't think his brain could short-circuit any further. George, on the other hand, just outright cackled.

Cassie slung her bag over her shoulder. "In all reality, he's a family friend. My godfather, actually."

Fred blinked.

George stopped laughing. "Wait. What?"

Cassie adjusted the strap of her bag, completely unbothered.

"You're joking," George said.

"I'm not."

Fred struggled to process that. "Professor Flitwick. Short bloke. Teaches Charms. That Professor Flitwick."

"That would be the one."

"That's mental."

Fred was still stuck on the image of tiny Filius Flitwick holding baby Cassie, cooing at her or something equally unbelievable.

Cassie just smiled. "I'll see you two tomorrow, yeah?"

Fred barely managed a nod.

"Try not to get kicked out while I'm gone."

George grinned. "No promises."

She rolled her eyes but was clearly fighting a smile as she walked away. Fred watched her go, still reeling from that entire conversation. Cassie was full of surprises.

As she rounded the corner and disappeared down the library's corridor, a warmth settled in his chest. Maybe Lorelei wasn't wrong to interrogate him — maybe she saw something he wasn't ready to admit yet.

He really didn't deserve this chance.

But he was going to do everything he could not to mess it up.