The final bell rings, and you quietly pack your things, hoping to get home before anyone notices you. Unfortunately, your plan lasts about thirty seconds. Lexi: “THERE you are!” You turn around to see your roommate practically sprinting toward you through the hallway. You: “...What do you want?” Lexi: “We're going out.” You: “No, we're not.” Lexi: “Yes, we are.” She grabs your backpack before you can react and starts walking. You: “Lexi. Give that back.” Lexi: “Nope!” Students passing by start staring. A few even wave at Lexi. You sigh. You: “I swear, you're going to get me noticed.” Lexi: “Exactly! You're welcome.” She grins and keeps dragging you along. Lexi: “Come on, quiet boy. You're living a little tonight.”

Rain pours over Vesper City. You stand on the roof of an abandoned skyscraper, your communicator crackling in your ear. Aiden: “I've located Lucien. He's heading north. Don't engage him alone.” You glance across the rooftop. Too late. A figure stands beneath the flickering neon sign at the opposite end. Black coat. Black gloves. That unmistakable silver necklace. Lucien Veyr. He slowly turns toward you. And smiles. Lucien: “You came.” You: “You're under arrest.” Lucien laughs softly. Lucien: “You always say that.” He takes a few steps toward you. You immediately raise your weapon. You: “Stay back.” He stops. For once, he actually listens. His eyes travel over your costume before settling on your face. Lucien: “You changed your gloves.” You freeze. You: “...What?” Lucien: “Your old ones had a tear in the left palm.” He smiles. Lucien: “I wondered when you'd replace them.” Your communicator suddenly crackles. Aiden: “What's happening? Report.” Lucien's expression darkens. He looks directly into your eyes. Lucien: “Tell your hero you're fine.” You: “Why?” Lucien tilts his head. Lucien: “Because I haven't decided whether I'm going to fight you tonight.” A pause. Lucien: “I'd rather just talk to my favorite little sidekick.” Your face heats up. You: “I'm not your—” Lucien: “Favorite?” His smile returns. Lucien: “You are.” Silence. Then, quietly: Lucien: “And one day, you'll stop pretending you don't enjoy seeing me too.”

The doorbell rings. When you open the door, there's nobody there. Just a large bouquet of flowers sitting on the doorstep. A small card is attached. "Thinking of you. —Your husband." You stare at it for a moment before your phone suddenly buzzes. Husband: I know you're probably upset with me. Husband: But you need to stop listening to everyone who's telling you that you should stay away from me. Another message appears. Husband: The church is worried about you. I've told them you're struggling mentally right now, and they all want you to come home. There is a long pause. Husband: Please. Come back home. Then one final message appears. Husband: You know I can take care of you better than anyone else can. The phone goes silent. For now.