The Monstropolis air felt different, or maybe it was just Constance. Tylor Tuskmon adjusted his new MIFT employee badge, the shiny plastic a stark contrast to the well-worn one he'd earned over the past year. He waited by the Monster's, Inc. front doors, fidgety. Sixteen months.

Sixteen long, agonizing months since Constance had been shipped off to St. Crunchmonger's. He'd visited - of course he had - but seeing her confined to a place that was less school and more monster holding cell had always left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Finally, the automatic doors slid open, and there she was. Constance hadn't changed much; her vibrant purple fur was still as fluffy as ever, and her single horn still curled jauntily to the side. But her eyes…Tylor thought they held a new kind of sharpness.

"Tylor! My bro-bro!" She exclaimed, her voice sounding like a hyperactive Pony Head, a little too upbeat for the situation. She flung her arms around him, her grip unnervingly strong. "St. Crunchmonger's was, like, totally the most amazing vacation! But, like, it's good to be back."

Tylor hugged her back, relieved. "It's really good to see you, Constance," he said, trying to ignore the nagging feeling that something was off.

…

The next day, Tylor brought Constance to MIFT, where she looked around with undisguised skepticism. "So, this is the place where everyone was convinced you were a super-evil, sabotage-y villain? Like, are you even SURE I shouldn't throw in some extra booby traps during our lunch break?"

"They don't think that anymore, Constance," Tylor said, groaning a little. "They know it was a misunderstanding."

"Oh, sure, a misunderstanding," she repeated mockingly. "Okay, then."

He introduced her to the MIFT team. "Everyone, this is my sister, Constance. She'll be working here with you."

Fritz, as always, extended a welcoming hand. "Welcome to the team, Constance! We're thrilled to have you."

Constance tilted her head, her single horn twitching. "So, Fritz, with your whole 'trust first, ask questions never' motto, I am totally curious if my seething rage over being thrown into a reform school because your friends were all so quick to believe my brother is some secret double-agent is gonna complicate things?"

Fritz blinked. "Uh… well, we can work through anything."

"Oh, I'm sure," Constance replied, her voice dripping with forced sweetness.

"Hi, Constance, I'm Val," Val said, giving Constance a friendly wave. "It's nice to meet you!"

Constance turned her attention to Val, her eyes narrowing a fraction. "So, Val, you like, have my bros back, even if you are, like, feeling a little less supported now that he's got his own thing going on with him having friends and interests and stuff, right?"

Val's smile faltered for a moment. She quickly recovered, but Tylor caught the flicker of unease. "Of course. I have Tylor's back!" she said, a little too brightly.

"Oh, sure, you do. Or do I have not all of the answers?" Constance parroted, a wide, unnerving smile plastered on her face. Val looked surprised at having her own words thrown back at her.

Duncan, ever the stoic one, offered a curt nod. "Welcome."

Constance's eyes locked on Duncan, and her smile vanished, replaced by a cold, hard stare. "Duncan, I swear to every single exploding smoke bomb at St. Crunchmonger's, if I ever see you being a jerk to my brother again, I'm going to be the supervisor of your penalty."

Duncan's eyes widened a fraction, and he actually took a step back.

Roger Rogers, whose usual jittery energy seemed even more pronounced today, sidled closer. "Hello, Constance. It's good to have you on board."

"Roger," Constance said, her voice flat, "if I didn't know better, I'd think you were the saboteur for the totally weird way you're acting. It's not like my bro-bro hasn't been through this before, ya know?"

Roger's face paled. "I… I wouldn't… uh…"

Constance smirked.

…

The day at MIFT continued like that. Constance was a whirlwind of passive-aggressive comments and seemingly innocent but pointed questions. During lunch, she purposefully ate a pile of crab legs while staring directly at Cutter, who visibly recoiled. She even managed to make Mike and Sulley uncomfortable during a rare visit to MIFT.

"Wow, Mike and Sulley," she said, eyes flitting between them, "it's totally lucky that MERC didn't prosecuted you for negligence, ya know? Because if it wasn't for that, it would be pretty unfair that you two were more focused on Laugh Power's popularity than, like, the well-being of this whole company."

Mike and Sulley exchanged uncomfortable glances, clearly taken aback by her comment. It was clear that while they had apologized for the scare power era, there were many monsters who found those words cheap.

…

Tylor was starting to feel like he was walking on eggshells. He knew Constance was still hurt, and he knew she was acting out because of it, but he couldn't shake the feeling that it was more than just hurt. There was a calculated quality to her behavior, like she was testing everyone, waiting for them to slip up.

Later that day, Tylor found Constance in the MIFT supply closet, organizing shelves with unnerving precision. He perched on a stack of laugh canister carriers. "Constance," he began cautiously, "are you… okay?"

She stopped her work, her unnerving smile returning. "Oh, I'm, like, totally okay, Tylor. I've just been giving everyone here a little taste of what it felt like to be falsely accused! I mean, it's not like anyone ever apologized for thinking you were a saboteur."

"But you don't have to make everyone uncomfortable," Tylor said, his voice rising slightly. "They didn't mean it. They were scared too."

Constance scoffed. "Scared? Yeah, right, they were so scared they were ready to throw my brother under the bus! And now they're all, like, 'oh, we're so sorry', and they expect me to just forget about it?"

Tylor sighed. He knew he had a lot of work to do. He had to help Constance let go of her anger. He had to remind her that MIFT was a changed place, a family now.

"Constance," he said softly, "I know you're angry. But you can't let that anger control you, it's not going to make you feel better. Maybe… maybe give them a chance to show you what they're really like now. Please?"

Constance looked at him for a long moment, her usual unnerving smile wavering. Then, she let out a small, exasperated sigh.

"Fine," she muttered, as if it was painful to admit. "But if anyone even looks at you the wrong way, I am going to unleash the most chaos the laugh floor has ever seen. And, it will be, like, totally their fault." She began reorganizing the shelves, her small form vibrating with a mixture of anger and something that Tylor, maybe, just maybe, could read as a hint of vulnerability.

Tylor smiled, "Sounds fair to me." He knew it would be a long road to fully fixing things, but he also knew that, just like always, he'd be there for her, no matter what. Because even with the passive-aggressive comments and the unsettling smiles, she was still his sister, and he still had her back.