"Hey. Hey."

Euna reaches out across the space between them. It's such a small distance, but such a big gap to cross after all. Inside, her brain is unclenching. She lets out a breath she's secretly been holding since the hospital. Her voice is soft, and her hand stretches across the infinite space between her and Cinders.

She doesn't put that hand on her shoulder. That won't do the job. Pressure sensors would tell Cinders there was a weight there, feed her the exact psi of Euna's fingers as she closed her hand, and suggest possible sensation types that could cause these readouts plus recommended actions for responding to them. But that's not the same as feeling. It's not the same as knowing with your heart what the touch is supposed to mean.

That's why she aims slightly higher, at the base of the neck where real skin and real nerves will tell Cinders what's happening in a way she'll understand without any need for words or training. A hand capable of crushing steel squeezes her lighter than a feather on the scales of the heart.

Euna's smile is warmer and gentler than cream in a cup of cocoa. She understands. She gets it. Maybe more than anybody ever should.

"It's ok," she soothes, "It's ok, all right? Take your time. Take all of the time you need. I promise, no matter what answer you wind up giving, I'll still be here. And I'll still help you, whatever you wind up needing."

POTENTIAL 2

Sara shrieks with laughter, doubling over and making high nasal squeaks and generally being ridiculous, before straightening up and fixing Locker with a dangerous, unhinged look.

“How dare you imitate me, you pathetic wannabe,” she sneers. “I already know what I’m going to do: I’m going to pretend I’m the fusion of Jack the Ripper and Moriarty, and do my best to try and make you stab yourself with my mind. Because I’m from the edge dimension where our outfits have to be black, spiky, and horrifically overwrought. Now I’m going to kill you.”

And she grabs him and pulls him in for an edgy, merciless noogie.

It is 20XX+3. It is the future.

@Sarahphim!

"Hands in the air! Do it now!"

You knew what you were getting into

In a way, you kind of have to respect the training and discipline of Dominus' troopers. Armed with only a handful of discount off-brand Impersonation Rigs they've spent over twenty four hours pretending to be wooden mannequins before revealing themselves all at once. Now they're a dozen hard-bitten soldiers with assault rifles aimed at you, wearing all of your rejected dresses/suits/etc. And frankly? None of them are pulling it off at all.

Dominus has planned this perfectly. You had backups just in case you needed to costume switch mid-ceremony if your first dress got damaged, but now your entire range is in danger at once - there's no way to fight all of these guys and girls without destroying your entire fashion range at once.

Errant!

"Reach for the sky,"

You knew what Sara was getting you into.

DeathGun69 has chosen a good time to make her approach - stepping out in her extremely edgy goth-leather bridesmaid gown, studded with metal, holding her totally badass signature death gun that's, like, got flame decals and stuff on it. Skull facepaint for that additional edge. She's waited until you've finished getting into your bridal dress, assessing - correctly - that you would be much less inclined to get into a firefight that put at risk this extremely expensive brand-new dress.

Besides her, SSJ2Rick and BloodHackerXxX have gagged and bound JuneBird who was helping you get into your dress. They're both wearing similarly edgy bridesmaid dresses, a look that SSJ2Rick is pulling off way better than the other two - he's actually got some vampire style to him, unlike the 'powerful magnet dragged through a hot topic bargain bin' vibe the other two have.

It's not a surprise to see them, though. You kind of knew exactly what was coming after the news report that these losers broke Comstar out of prison.

Brainstorm!

You had no idea what you were getting into.

On the left of you is an eight foot tall glowing lady with extreme drunk-mom energy who has introduced herself as 'Ourania' and has been hitting on you all night. On the right of you is @Tigerphim who is a literal massive bengal tiger who's had at least two attempts at eating you before being caught one handed by Ourania. Right now Ourania is reaching over you, giving you a face full of arms and elbows, as she pats the deeply purring tiger and - did she just ask the tiger if she wanted to come back to her place afterwards!? Ourania!!

These are the worst seats in the house. You need to get out of this.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME??”

Sara puts her hands on her hips and offers the death glare to end all death glares. Smoke curls off of her in languorous helixes (the suit jacket that made the final cut made “smoky grey” very, very literal). The pins pushed through her bun are the splash of color, both of them made of stained glass, in a nod to her superhero aesthetic, while everything else is “dapper duchess of Hell,” from the lace gloves to the sleek black Oxfords. She’s the fallen angel made good, even at her own wedding.

“Do you have any idea how little I need this right now? Put those guns down, you little—“

She stops, smooths down her hair, takes a deep breath. Count to five. Think about Euna’s smile.

“Hey, sorry,” she starts again. “I get the gesture, I didn’t mean to lose my cool. Thanks for showing up, Dommy, I was worried when you didn’t RSVP. It’s a little late for this, though; you really should have done the whole fake kidnapping shtick at my bachelorette’s.”

"Don't worry, Euna! It'll be fiiiiiine, Euna! Nothing's going to go wrong, Euna! Put down the contingencies notebook, Euna! We'll hire the best security team in the entire city, Euna! And besides, who would wanna mess with us? God damn it Sara I am never letting you write the invitations for anything ever again."

This is, by a wide margin, the least practical combat outfit Euna Kim has ever been caught in. The corset is so tight she can only half turn right now. The shoes are... well they're really more slippers actually, real fairy tale chic, but the point is they're like walking on two glass needles. It took a whole day just to figure out how to walk in them without breaking anything. Her sleeves have such long trails they're pooling on the ground even when she lifts her hands up to shoulder height. She's got several pounds of jewelry and chains woven into her hair and several layers of misty veils trailing down on top of them, which are all making it a little difficult to turn her neck very quickly at all. Really limits her vision, even without the smaller veil flipped over her face. Her gloves are such impossibly dainty lace she'd be terrified of reducing them to powder if she punched anything while wearing them. And even setting all of that aside her skirts have such long trains that it'd be like fighting with a several foot long tail that if anybody stepped on for any reason she'd lose... actually, let's not put a number on that.

So yeah. Is she a vision of total loveliness in softest white and shimmering silvers, like the moon shining down onto a glass-black lake? That's god damn right. She's a bride. This is her special day. Is she well equipped for anything more complicated than walking down the aisle and kissing the most beautiful woman ever to walk the earth? Well... she's got her hands raised, doesn't she?

But there is murder in her eyes and stretched across her mouth, and only maybe a twelfth of that is directed at her fiancée. If looks could kill (and in some universes, they can!), Euna's glare would be deadlier than the death gun pointed at her right now. Actually, all things considered, it probably still is. It's just, if the mean look doesn't work? She's pretty helpless right now. She needs a plan. Or time. Or help.

"I'm gonna give you... ten seconds to tell me what the fuck you think it is you're doing here. And then because this is such a special day, I'll give you an extra five to leave without doing it. You can tell Comstar she god damn well knows why she didn't get an invitation."

Brainstorm!You had no idea what you were getting into.

Beg pardon, he knew exactly what he was getting into. His sister's associates include a genie, a pirate, a mutant, and an honest-to-goodness looney toon, and that's only some of the human-shaped ones. He'd crunched the numbers when the invitations went out, and there was a 100% chance of sitting next to weirdness. Not least, because he's Sara's family, and they've given each other shit since birth, so why not at her wedding?

That's why he and Locker have been improving his flexibility.

So as the Queen and the Tiger get busy--and dear sweet merciful heaven he could have gone his entire life without learning how an amazon and a tiger kiss--his rear scoots forwards on the chair until he's able to feed himself horizontally through the gap between seat and the backrest.

And with that, he's off to find and edit the seating chart, because obviously that's what he's supposed to do.

“Do you have any idea how little I need this right now? Put those guns down, you little—“

She stops, smooths down her hair, takes a deep breath. Count to five. Think about Euna’s smile.

“Hey, sorry,” she starts again. “I get the gesture, I didn’t mean to lose my cool. Thanks for showing up, Dommy, I was worried when you didn’t RSVP. It’s a little late for this, though; you really should have done the whole fake kidnapping shtick at my bachelorette’s.”

"This is deadly serious," said some rambo-looking motherfucker who was being vary careful not to flex his way out of the flowing white angel dress that you had on standby just in case a very particular form of inspiration struck at the last minute. Little adorable wings and everything. "You're going to marry Dominus - and as soon as the paperwork is signed we're going to drain your bank account and use your financial empire to fund the restoration of the old world order. Now get out there!"

You're shoved at gunpoint out onto the stage - and into the arms of a surprised looking Comstar. "Who the hell are you people?" she says as the soldiers storm out onto the stage.

But there is murder in her eyes and stretched across her mouth, and only maybe a twelfth of that is directed at her fiancée. If looks could kill (and in some universes, they can!), Euna's glare would be deadlier than the death gun pointed at her right now. Actually, all things considered, it probably still is. It's just, if the mean look doesn't work? She's pretty helpless right now. She needs a plan. Or time. Or help.

"I'm gonna give you... ten seconds to tell me what the fuck you think it is you're doing here. And then because this is such a special day, I'll give you an extra five to leave without doing it. You can tell Comstar she god damn well knows why she didn't get an invitation."

"This is a heist," said DeathGun69. "We are heisting your wedding. You and @Sarahphim are both going to marry Comstar instead of each other. Wah ha ha!"

"Such a brilliant plan!" swooned SSJ2Rick.

"She's so smart!" said BloodHackerXxX

This has the feel of one of those plans with a lot of question marks between here and profit, but such is on brand for Comstar plans.

There's not any time to think about it further, because the music to announce your arrival has started to play. Your unconventional bridesmaids gesture you out into the aisle, glowing and radiant in the midst of falling lily petals, towards a stage where the most beautiful @Sarahphim you've ever seen is waiting for you. Also Comstar, a couple of glowing pink robots, and like fifty armed soldiers are pointing guns at each other and the audience but... in this moment, does it matter?

Beg pardon, he knew exactly what he was getting into. His sister's associates include a genie, a pirate, a mutant, and an honest-to-goodness looney toon, and that's only some of the human-shaped ones. He'd crunched the numbers when the invitations went out, and there was a 100% chance of sitting next to weirdness. Not least, because he's Sara's family, and they've given each other shit since birth, so why not at her wedding?

That's why he and Locker have been improving his flexibility.

So as the Queen and the Tiger get busy--and dear sweet merciful heaven he could have gone his entire life without learning how an amazon and a tiger kiss--his rear scoots forwards on the chair until he's able to feed himself horizontally through the gap between seat and the backrest.

And with that, he's off to find and edit the seating chart, because obviously that's what he's supposed to do.

So. Problem. The seating chart has already been hacked. All of the rows are to be filled with THE GLORIOUS CREATIONS OF DOCTOR SYLVANIUS, who has sent notice that they are arriving slightly late. With a grim sensation you look up at the sky where a dozen interplanetary transport missiles are closing in from high orbit surrounded by blazes of fire. They'll be here in minutes.

"Hey Brainstorm," said Prometheus over the comms. "Can I pleaaaaaaaaase hijack some of those incoming combat robots? I promise I'll use their powers for good. Pleaaaaaaaaase?"

So. Problem. The seating chart has already been hacked. All of the rows are to be filled with THE GLORIOUS CREATIONS OF DOCTOR SYLVANIUS, who has sent notice that they are arriving slightly late. With a grim sensation you look up at the sky where a dozen interplanetary transport missiles are closing in from high orbit surrounded by blazes of fire. They'll be here in minutes.

"Hey Brainstorm," said Prometheus over the comms. "Can I pleaaaaaaaaase hijack some of those incoming combat robots? I promise I'll use their powers for good. Pleaaaaaaaaase?"

With a few keystrokes, Victor changes his seat, and thinks. Mami's been going over this with him. Authoritative, not authoritarian or permissive. Supportive. "That seems like a good idea. Before you do that, can I know what you plan to do with them? Remember the rules?"

"YOU."

Up goes the Comstar, her stupid neon pink heels dangling over the stage. Back and forth goes the Comstar, her stupid coiffed hair bouncing as Sara shakes her like a rag doll by her armpits. Why is she-- why would you try to dress sexy at a wedding, Comstar, bridal gowns are not meant to have exposed midriffs and sweeping necklines!!!

"Stop mind controlling people--" shake shake shake "you absolute asshole--" shake shake shake "I will kick your fucking ass and then marry my beautiful wife--" shake shake shake "now stop controlling Dominus--" shake shake shake "so I can get married!!!"

It's really sweet how Sara just fervently refuses to believe her Dommy would ruin her wedding, isn't it? Good thing that her plans are likely being foiled even now by a brave bunch of do-gooders...

They're playing the song. The one she fought so hard to get played! It's not a traditional processional by any means, though it's not exactly a trendy choice, either. Actually it's... yeah, it's pretty embarrassing but, you know the movie Burn, My Sword right? It's a period piece, all swordfights and brave heroes on both sides and action action action. It's Euna's favorite movie. And there's one, exactly one kiss scene in that movie.

The spotlight clicks down on top of her. Euna glitters like a princess from another universe. She's got the veil draped over her face now, but it's just sheer enough for her smile and her silver painted lips to shine through it, all the way down the aisle and to the stage. They're playing the song that scores that one perfect kiss where romance triumphs over the chaos of the battlefield; a soulful downtempo piano version originally mixed by a fan before it was remastered by the original composer again and put on the soundtrack. To Euna, this is what love sounds like. There couldn't have been any other choice.

Sara is so beautiful. It's, she's... wow. Standing there with that look on her face, seeing her wife for the first time and smiling like she's forgotten there's a stage. That's the most beautiful woman in the world. That is the woman Euna is going to spend the rest of her life with, and there's not a damn thing anybody is going to do to stop that.

She probably has forgotten the stage, honestly. Look at her. Standing there all spellbound with that elemental, vulnerable smile, all the light in her eyes... and Comstar still dangling from the edge of the platform caught up in her fists. That's what love looks like. She's so awestruck that Euna almost misses the little lip licking gesture Sara flashes her way. She blushes, and it's the most beautiful she's ever felt in her entire life.

Nothing else matters right now. They're playing her song, and her flower is falling like snow from the rafters, and the most stunningly perfect woman in history is waiting for her right now. Euna gathers up her skirts just like she's rehearsed a dozen times, and takes that first perfect step toward her big moment. And the next one, and then the next, flowing like mercury down the walkway with her heart pounding happily in her chest. Watch her, everybody. Turn your heads and watch. How does it make you feel?

For just a minute, just one minute... everyone gets off their bullshit.

Comstar shuts the fuck up. Rambangel lowers his gun to wipe away a tear. JuneBird stops mid-way through crawling across the floor in search of something that can cut through silk wrist bindings to just watch and tear up. @Tigerphim lets out an appreciative purr. Bode, invisible in the rafters, lowers his multisniper rifle so he's watching through his own eyes rather than a scope. Prometheus stops thinking about being the biggest robot. Cinders puts down the pipe organ she'd been getting ready to throw. There are no interruptions. There are no loud noises. For a moment everyone is just happy for you.

All of the chaos of your lives is on pause for a moment, in that way that normally only happens when you're alone together - but this time, it's so pure, so powerful, that it doesn't matter that you're not alone. Everybody can see it, and everyone can feel it so intensely that, just for a moment, you've bought the whole world into the serenity that exists between the two of you.

One thing needs to be very clear, okay? Just, like, absolutely crystal. When Sara licked her lips, she wasn’t being lascivious. I know, I’m as surprised as you are! Her whole brand suggests she’s the kind of person who would leer at her very-soon-to-be-wife. But that was, hand on heart, swear to whatever God kicked Sara out of heaven and then let her find her paradise here on earth, because Sara’s mouth suddenly felt very dry. Can you blame her?

Look at her! Dumbass! She thought the smoking jacket would be cool?? And, just, look at her, she’s dealing with Comstar’s bullshit when Euna’s right there? Her knight in shining mail, her paladin, the woman who dared to take her back...

Comstar is gently put down. Sara wanders away, towards the lip of the stage, moving like someone in a dream. She opens her mouth to say something, because she feels like she’s supposed to say something, right? All of the rehearsals have just been ejected from her brain. Invite her up to the stage, or, or say here comes the bride, or something, don’t just stand there!

Instead, Sara starts crying. Her shoulders shake as she tries to contain it, and she doesn’t even spare the cameras zooming in on her tears a glance. And she smiles. She offers her Euna the most earnest, most vulnerable smile of her whole life. There’s a lump in her throat and her eyes sting and she offers the bride her hand to help her up the stairs. She doesn’t care if it’s stupid or not what she’s supposed to do. All she can do is reach out, the way Euna reached out and caught her hand and saved her life.

There was a Comstar and a bunch of armed goons back then, too. The first time she saw that hand reaching for her like this, that is. That first in a chain of horrible mistakes that might have meant the difference between them finding each other like this and drifting apart forever. Euna laughs her dumb snorty dork laugh.

Sara you big dummy, you're not supposed to be standing there. We rehearsed this! You're supposed to wait for her by the altar! You're supposed to take her hands when she finishes the trip and reaches out to you, not... not...

She reaches her hand anyway. It feels the same. It feels almost exactly like it did back then, the same kind of desperation, the same kind of yearning, the same kind of wanting to pull her close and keep her safe forever. Only this time, Sara looks so warm. So impossibly beautiful and warm. She's smiling and she's crying and this time she's the one who's reaching out to help and it's all more than a girl can bear. The sniffle catches her off guard. Then the tears start falling down her cheeks, and the only thing in the whole world she can see anymore is that hand. She reaches for it and lets herself be pulled into a new world.

"I love you," she whispers, "I love you so much."

They're so badly off script now. But even so, there's rules that need to be followed, you know? Euna doesn't lift her veil or kiss her perfect bride. Not yet. They have to say the words first, and then they get to kiss! But that doesn't stop her from wrapping her arms around Sara and trapping her smoky grays in the twin rivers of white and silver that are her sleeves. It doesn't stop her from pulling her close, as though even now all she can think to be is her precious heart's shield.

She buries her face in Sara's neck and breathes in every part of her. The smell of her hair, her skin, the little wisp of ozone and the perfume she uses to cover it, and her tears. Euna laughs, and she cries, and she stains that perfect neck with the happiest tears of her life. This is where the moment lead them. This is how they'll wait the next turn on the stage. Euna pins Sara's arms against her, and guides them gently down around her waist.

"Hey Brainstorm," said Prometheus over the comms. "Can I pleaaaaaaaaase hijack some of those incoming combat robots? I promise I'll use their powers for good. Pleaaaaaaaaase?"

Brainstorm nods, and then remembers. "I'm glad you asked for my input. Remember the rules we came up with? If people are about to be harmed, you should take steps to stop it. So yes, please, if you could stop the robots, that would be best. But hurry up, or you'll miss your aunts' wedding."

Speaking of...

Honestly, he should have been more preoccupied by the robot army, or Dominus's getup, or--holy shit, that's Comstar when did she get out--but frankly? All he can see is the duo on stage and...

Well, there was a part of him that worried he'd feel jealous. But in this moment, with two angels on stage, all he can feel is a burning happiness rising up in his chest and pushing its way out his eyes. They're beautiful, and the way they mesh together...

It's been a long road. And maybe he'll get to this point himself someday. But right now, all he can do is grin like a maniac and bask in the moment.

And the moment passes.

Comstar!

This is it! This is your moment. All of this belongs to you. You have worked hard and now it's time for success, babes, and above everything: views.

"And now at last you see that there is nothing you possess that I cannot take away!" Comstar announces in her most television voice. "Behold, my ultimate heist! I shall steal the married hands of these two maidens, transforming my greatest rivals into my domestic servants! And such shall be the fate of all who dare to defy me - tune in to Bridal Suite, my upcoming new reality television show where I add new brides to my harem and you can watch them compete with each other for my affections! WAH HA HA HA HA!"

DeathGun69 pulls down one of the curtains to reveal Comstar's masterpiece device - an enormous, stationary energy cannon aimed directly at the audience. "And to ensure compliance, behold - The Honeymoonizer! If you defy me I will fire my doomsday weapon, sending audience members in randomly determined couples to random destinations across the multiverse! Camera drones will be sent with all such couples and highlights from their adventures will also be available on my channel - the best subscription on the internet! Either way I win! So what do you say, lovebirds? Will you make me the happiest supervillain to conquer the earth?"

Somewhere in the distance there is the sound of a motorcycle getting closer.

Euna allows herself a single deep breath. One long inhale, held in her belly, and then a deeeeep, controlled exhale. She's still smiling. Her arms are still wrapped around Sara. But the transformation that comes over her is terrifying.

"...Sweetheart, would you please help me with this belt? Yes, the... no, up a little. Just a-- there we go! Thank you so much."

Pay attention class, because this is important. Almost every bride who walks the aisle does so in a dress that's so much for show it's barely capable of even that much. But there's a whole reception to make it through after the "I do"s! Dancing and mingling and drinking! How can she possibly make it through all of that in something so... constrictive and, and poofy?

The belt comes off, and several layers of her dress drop delicately to the floor. A single swoopy skirt opens up at around mid-thigh, perfect for twirling and stealing the spotlight forever on the dance floor. She reaches up and with skillwire precision plucks the lace gloves off of each hand. Then she bends down for a moment and slides out of her gorgeous slippers. Artificial toes which shouldn't mind being squeezed into tiny shoes stretch and curl in the fresh air anyway. She flicks her wrists a couple of times and her sleeves wrap around her arms. She ties them in place with a dreamy look on her face.

She hesitates for a moment, but finally she reaches up and slides her veils off of her head. She cracks her neck and bounces once, twice. This is Euna Kim's wedding dress: battle mode. And the smile still plastered on her face does nothing to hide the look of absolute murderous intent in her eyes.

"This is a very special day," she says in an unusually high voice, colder than the void of space, "I have been working on it for eight months! So I am going to give you... mmmm, one last chance! To go and find some seats! But if I open my eyes! And my wife and I aren't the only ones on this stage? I'm going, teehee! To break all of your legs~"

[Before We Get Started: 11. Holding 3]

“THAT’S MY WIFE, EVERYBODY!”

Ignore the fact that the whole point of this ceremony is that they’re not married yet. Ignore that Comstar is obviously posing and trying to make it sound like she’s still being talked about. Ignore the motorcycle and the thugs in suits and gowns.

Just focus on the adoration and joy in Sara’s voice. And how it’s one of those sentences that changes with the inflection. She could have gone with “that’s my wife” or, more on brand, “that’s my wife.” But no, she went for “that’s my wife.” Wife. Wow. They’re going to be wives. Has that sunken in yet? Maybe not. From the look of worshipful awe on Sara’s face, she’s finding new facets of delight even now at the altar.

“She means that, by the way. She’s going to make a point of breaking people’s legs. She’s switching off the limiters that stop her from snapping them like twigs when she steps on them right now.”

She stops, pecks her battle bride on the cheek, and then adds in a stage whisper that provokes nervous laughter from the audience: “Can you see about breaking Comstar’s jaw, too? We still owe her another asskicking over that incident...”

He's not jealous, but hot damn.

He saunters forward and, with careful precision, takes his seat. "I'd do what she says," he drawls. "You're third-rate henchmen with fourth-rate tools, working for a B-list wannabe. Don't you already have enough negative subscribers, Commy? Want to go further in debt to livestream antics of people with zero chemistry?"

He pauses, as if in thought.

"Then again, I suppose that's what you do whenever you're on camera, so..."

You already knew how Comstar was going to react, Errant. The first time you met her she let you punch her in the face because she was in love with the visuals of the shot. This is a person with absolutely no survival instinct. Some part of her brain has noted the extremely specific threat, reported it and cc'd the secretary, but it's been automatically sorted into the same mailbox as the Building Services weekly reminders and all staff updates.

"Then a demonstration of my seriousness is in order!" Comstar said. "Fire the device!"

The energy cannon howls to life, crackling cosmic pink, laser rays directed towards the audience. Comstar's minions are standing by between you and the lady herself. There's no way she can possibly lose.

*

Victor!

You've just gotten back into your seat when you are dragged out of it by a chain thrown around your neck by a lady on a motorcycle wearing aviator sunglasses and a slashed open leather biker jacket. Dominus has a new look and it's as muscular and deadly as a snake. She pulls you close as she parks her bike at the stairs leading up to the altar, giving you a full taste of her hypnotic perfume. Your emotions, already compromised by the day, begin to spiral and swim. "Hey, Brainstorm," she said, voice crack adding a fascinating edge of cuteness to all of the danger signs. "You want to help me, don't you?"

She pulls you close as she parks her bike at the stairs leading up to the altar, giving you a full taste of her hypnotic perfume. Your emotions, already compromised by the day, begin to spiral and swim. "Hey, Brainstorm," she said, voice crack adding a fascinating edge of cuteness to all of the danger signs. "You want to help me, don't you?"

"Of course," he says.

Or, tries to say. Between the whiplash and the perfume and chain around his neck, what actually comes out is a strangled whine and a half-swallowed stream of hacks, coughs, and dry heaves, followed by folding against her.

"Kumquat," he mumbles, still leaning against her. "Bananas, Clockface, Yellow, whatever word you guys use. What are you and Angelika arguing about today?"