Lunaris was excited.

  The cardboard box dug into her palms as if it were offended.

  Okay, endurance test, Lunaris muttered, nudging her wheelchair forward with her elbow. Inside the box were all the essentials for a new life: a mug that said “World’s Okayest Duelist,” a tiny potted plant named Sir Leafington, and about seven different brands of optimism, all precariously stacked.

  She’d been here… this morning, depending on how one measured time after a party that ended in both a job offer and medical paperwork.

  And now here she was. Morning. Lobby line. Version 2.0 of herself.

  The building gleamed as if it knew it. All sleek silver lines and glowing veins, like a futuristic fang biting the skyline. The same one she’d seen in the dark hours, glittering above the city like an invitation and a dare.

  The automatic doors opened, and that wave of scent rolled out to greet her again. The place looked different in daylight, somehow busier and even more ridiculous. A jungle of hanging plants drooped from the ceiling as if they were auditioning for a luxury nature documentary, and the floor was so clean it made her nervous to breathe on it.

  There were so many people.

  Dozens of new hires, interns, probably half of Rimebreak Kingdom’s trying to figure out where to get their badges. The queue wound through the lobby like an overachieving snake, everyone clutching boxes and forms.

  Lunaris wheeled herself to the back, balancing her box on her knees, trying not to bump anyone’s heels. Okayokayokay. Calm. This is fine. New quest: “Find Desk, Don’t Panic.” Reward: dental insurance?

  She couldn’t see the front from here; just the shimmer of holo-screens and a receptionist moving with end-game boss precision. With all the posters of Charlie, it felt like a lair indeed. Then movement caught her eye: a familiar figure cutting through the crowd. “Iraklis!” she called, raising a hand and almost tilting Sir Leafington to his doom.

  He turned. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been holding a cocktail. “Luna?” he said, blinking, and then smiled wider. “You actually showed up.”

  She puffed out her cheeks. “Of course I did! I’m very… employed now. Officially.”

  He glanced at the box, then at her wheels. “Need a hand?”

  “Maybe an extra save slot,” she joked, shifting the box back to stability. “HR AI told me to come in the morning, but I think everyone got told to come in the morning.”

  “Yeah,” he said, scanning the crowd. “Half the city got hired after that party.”

  “That tracks,” she sighed. “I think Lola spawned us all.”

  Iraklis chuckled. “Wouldn’t surprise me.” She smiled at that, nervous energy fizzing. The lobby noise blurred around her… voices, laughter, printers booting somewhere above. Iraklis tilted his head toward the elevator. “Come on,” he said.

  “Wait—shouldn’t I, um, check in or something?” Lunaris asked, clutching her box a little tighter. “There’s like a line. A very serious-looking line.”

  He just grinned, already steering her wheels with one hand like it was the most normal thing in the world. “You’re with me.”

  That sentence sent a quick, fizzy panic down her spine. “Are you sure that’s allowed?” She whispered, lowering her voice as if they were about to rob a bank.

  “Allowed?” He waved a dismissive hand, the motion lazy. “I’m head of legal, Luna. The queen herself relies on me.” That… was hard to argue with. She blinked at him, mouth halfway between impressed and terrified. “Besides,” he added as they reached the elevator, “I can bother important people.”

  She wheeled in after him; the doors sliding shut behind with a whispery hum. The box in her lap felt heavier now, as if Sir Leafington sensed they were trespassing in boss territory.

  “So…” she started, stealing a glance up at him as the elevator glided. “How important are we talking?”

  Iraklis’s grin curved like a secret. “Lola.”

  “Oh.” Her voice squeaked a little. “That important.”

  “Yep.”

  The elevator chimed.

  A half-moon space stretched before her, most of its desks empty. Only a handful of people were actually there, technicians murmuring over screens, a couple of analysts sipping coffee, the occasional flash of a holo-report scrolling lazily across a floating panel.

  An enormous wall displayed feeds, but instead of battlefield chaos, it showed random streams of players, one of whom was Katherine. Next to the wall was also a poster of Charlie. This time she was smiling, and the poster said, ‘We see everything’.

  And there, at the far end, on the raised platform overlooking everything, was Lola.

  She was sitting behind a curved desk, haloed by three floating holo-screens, her fingers moving in precise gestures. The screens projected faint blue light across her face, catching on her glasses, turning her expression unreadable.

  Even from across the room, she radiated efficiency.

  Iraklis leaned toward Luna as they rolled forward. “Told you,” he whispered. “Important.”

  Lunaris swallowed, trying to keep her smile steady. “Oh, stars,” she muttered under her breath. “Boss floor. Actual boss floor.”

  Sir Leafington wobbled in agreement.

  Lola looked up as they approached. Her eyes softened immediately, the hint of a smile replacing the sharp focus she’d worn a second earlier. “Lunaris,” she said, and even her voice carried that blend of professionalism and warmth. “I’m glad you came straight to me.”

  Iraklis stopped beside Luna’s chair, giving a mock salute. “Delivery complete,” he said lightly. “She’s all yours, boss.”

  “Thank you, Iraklis.” Lola’s smile turned wry. “Now go before you rewrite rules again.”

  He chuckled, tapping two fingers against his temple. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” Then he gave Lunaris a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Welcome Luna. Try not to faint.”

  She blinked. “No promises.”

  He laughed again and strode off, leaving Luna feeling suddenly tiny in a room built for command. Lola gestured gently toward her desk. “Don’t worry, it’s much less terrifying than it looks.”

  “Lies,” Luna whispered, but she rolled closer anyway.

  Lola chuckled, reaching into a drawer and pulling out a small envelope and a sleek white badge clipped to a ribbon. “Everything’s ready. In the name of the Queen, I welcome you to the family. Your paperwork went through last night, and the medical capsule will be ready this afternoon. You’ll start the rehabilitation cycle right after lunch.”

  Lunaris blinked. Her chest did a weird little flutter. “Wait, so… it’s really happening?”

  “It’s really happening.” Lola’s smile widened. “And I’m glad you came to me first.”

  “I just followed Iraklis,” Luna admitted, then added quickly, “But I was going to find you!”

  “I believe you,” Lola said with a small laugh. Then she opened the envelope and placed a few items on the table: the badge, and three tiny translucent chips that blinked with faint LED lights.

  “First one’s your standard access chip,” Lola explained, placing it delicately in Luna’s palm. “Second opens low-restricted areas… labs, testing halls, cafeteria after hours. The third one…”

  Lola held it up between two fingers. It pulsed faintly blue. “…is for restricted sections. You won’t need it often, but it’s part of your clearance.”

  “Oh, stars,” Luna whispered. “Three keys? I feel like I just unlocked a side quest.”

  Lola smiled, sliding the last chip toward her. “Just remember… every access is logged. And Pearl monitors it.”

  That made Luna straighten a little. “Ah. So no, um, late-night curiosity missions?”

  “Exactly.” Lola’s eyes sparkled with humor. “Unless you want Pearl sending a drone after you and hacking into your social media. I would be sad to read a report in the morning over breakfast.”

  “Noted,” Luna said solemnly. “I like my breakfast nonjudgmental.”

  Lola chuckled again, then leaned back. “Your new office is down on the seventh door. Juliette asked specifically to share with you.”

  Lunaris blinked. “Who’s Juliette?”

  “That,” Lola said, tapping the badge into Luna’s palm with a wink, “is why we use the same names as Rimelion. But she forgot to add hers. Well, she put in the form ‘Lady Of The Eternal Night’, so it will be a surprise.”

  Luna clutched her box a little tighter, heart skittering. A new office. A new life. And, apparently, a mysterious roommate.

  She took a breath, exhaled slowly, and smiled. “Okay,” she whispered to herself. “Quest accepted.”

  The seventh floor was a maze. Sleek hallways, walls that glowed faintly with embedded light strips, doors that all looked just slightly too identical. The badge in her lap pinged every few meters with polite digital beeps, and each one made her feel simultaneously important and lost.

  Okay, east… maybe? Or north-ish? She took another turn, then another, until she spotted it: a simple door marked with a silver 7 and a subtle pearlescent shimmer where the nameplate would eventually go.

  “Found you,” she whispered, half-relieved, half-victorious, and rolled inside.

  The room was larger than she had expected. One tall pillar divided the open space down the middle, and four desks were arranged around it… two on each side, all minimalist and unassuming. Only one desk was missing a chair, clearly meant for her.

  Lunaris wheeled over, balancing her box like sacred cargo. Her desk was bare except for a holo-monitor hovering above the surface and a small drawer containing a brand-new holo-tablet still wrapped in its plastic. The faint scent of unused tech hung in the air.

  “Well, Sir Leafington,” she whispered, lifting the potted plant and setting it in the corner, “we’ve officially moved in.”

  The mug went next—“World’s Okayest Duelist,” proudly angled toward the door like a badge of humour honor. She pulled out a few more treasures: a tiny knitted sock-banner that big sister Lisa gifted her, a sticker of a cartoon rapier giving a thumbs-up, and a small crystal paperweight shaped like a moon. Cute, colorful, slightly foolish.

  Exactly her.

  She was adjusting the mug’s angle when her gaze drifted across the room—

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  —and froze.

  The opposite desk looked like it belonged to someone who thrived on midnight and caffeine fumes.

  The entire surface was matte black, covered in neatly arranged, very pointy stationery. A single holo-monitor glowed with dark-mode code lines, the only splash of color coming from a blood-red LED keyboard that pulsed like a heartbeat.

  A sleek black thermos sat beside it, labeled “Don’t.”

  On the pillar above the desk, a few things were pinned: a photo of a black cat with matching eyeliner, a cracked mirror shard framed like art, and a note written in a tidy handwriting that said, “Touch anything and perish.”

  There was also, inexplicably, a single candle, unlit but clearly expensive, and a set of wireless earbuds draped across a dagger-shaped letter opener.

  Lunaris blinked. “Oh, stars,” she murmured. “My deskmate’s crazy.”

  Sir Leafington rustled a leaf in agreement as a door slid open behind her with a soft hiss.

  “Lunaris?”

  Luna turned, halfway through arranging her sock-banner, and her heart did a funny skip. The woman standing in the doorway was dressed like the personification of ‘don’t mess with me.’ Black jacket, dark eyeliner, hair cascading in glossy midnight waves.

  “NightSwallow,” Luna breathed before she could stop herself.

  For a heartbeat, the woman just stared, clearly surprised, but then her face softened into a smile. A real one, not the smirk Luna remembered. “Lunaris! You made it, finally.”

  “I—yeah!” Luna beamed, then immediately panicked and gestured vaguely at her desk. “And I brought a plant life, see?”

  NightSwallow arched a brow, then followed Luna’s gesture toward the potted greenery. Her lips twitched. “You brought that?”

  “This is Sir Leafington,” Luna said seriously. “He’s very well-traveled.”

  For a moment, the room hung quiet. Then NightSwallow let out a small, helpless laugh… soft and entirely unlike her usual monotone. “Of course you named it.”

  “Of course,” Luna said proudly.

  NightSwallow shook her head, amusement lingering at the corners of her mouth. Then she caught herself, cleared her throat, and turned slightly as if regaining composure.

  “Wait—so you’re Juliette?” Luna asked, curious.

  NightSwallow stiffened like she’d just been struck by a spell. A tiny blush colored her cheeks. “Call me NightSwallow,” she blurted.

  “Okie, NightSwallow!” Luna chirped, instantly agreeing. “What should we do, NightSwallow?”

  NightSwallow paused, halfway between fond and exasperated, then looked toward the far side of the room. “You don’t have your capsule yet, right?”

  “Nope,” Luna admitted, following her gaze.

  “Come on.” NightSwallow walked toward a side door opposite the entrance, her boots clicking lightly against the polished floor. Luna rolled after her, the empty box bumping softly in her lap.

  The room beyond was smaller, colder, lined with three capsules. A fourth space was open, empty cables coiled like waiting vines. Luna stopped, gazing at them. “Yeah… I have a special one,” she murmured, cheeks coloring. “With, um… medical thingies? The problem’s actually in my head, not my body, or something like that.” Her voice dropped, shy and embarrassed. “Repairing body’s easy, they said. My brother was trying to find a cure, but this is the only thing that can work.”

  NightSwallow turned to look at her. “You’ve got a brother?”

  Luna nodded. “Mm-hm.”

  NightSwallow’s grin slipped back. “Is he cute?”

  Luna gasped, scandalized. “Jul—!”

  “Swallow,” she corrected immediately, smirking. Luna puffed her cheeks in protest as NightSwallow smiled innocently, a hand on her hip, her aura suddenly feeling a lot more like sunlight in disguise. “Okay,” she said, stretching her arms overhead before crossing them again with a grin. “Instead of talking about your cute brother, let’s grab something to eat.”

  “I wasn’t talking about him being cute,” Lunaris mumbled, still sulking just enough to make her point, while she threw away the cardboard box under the table, and grabbed her mug as if it were a shield.

  NightSwallow laughed, and before Luna could react, she was already behind her chair, hands gently gripping the handles. “Come on, tiny knight. Lunch break.”

  “I can roll myself,” Luna protested, but the words came out softer than she meant. She glanced up at NightSwallow’s smirk, half teasing, half genuine care, and her resistance fizzled out.

  “Yeah,” she muttered instead, smiling. “Okay.”

  The wheels hummed as NightSwallow pushed her out of the office. It was weirdly nice… being helped not because someone thought she needed it, but because someone simply wanted to.

  “What do they have?” Luna asked as they reached the elevator.

  “There’s apparently a mysterious new baker downstairs,” NightSwallow said, tone mock-serious. “Chocolate cake, allegedly life-changing. Wanted to investigate.”

  “Investigate a cake,” Luna nodded. “A noble mission.”

  “Precisely.”

  The elevator chimed open, and they stepped into the cafeteria a minute later. It was early, so the room was only half full—quiet clusters of employees chatting, the smell of fresh pastries drifting from the counter, sunlight filtering through the big windows and glinting off the polished steel tables.

  “Wanna wait, or should I grab it?” NightSwallow asked, already scanning the menu board.

  Normally, Luna would insist. I can do it. I’m fine. That was her default line, independence flashing bright. But this time, she hesitated, glanced at NightSwallow’s calm face, and just shrugged. “Okay,” she whispered.

  NightSwallow smiled, that small, rare smile that made her look less like a Rimelion assassin and more like an older sister who’d seen too much and learned to be gentle. “Got it.”

  She rolled Luna to a table near the window, parked her carefully, and went off toward the counter.

  Luna leaned her chin in her palm, watching her go.

  The cafeteria walls were sleek white and chrome, lined with company posters. And as everywhere… with Charlie.

  Stylized portraits of her: sometimes regal, sometimes smirking, sometimes in that ridiculous “leader-but-also-a-queen” pose. The slogans underneath shifted depending on the department. “Exploit Efficiency.” “Adapt or Be Adapted.” “Innovation is Sovereignty.”

  Luna exhaled softly.

  When she’d first come here, she thought the villainess act was just a front, a bit of theater masking a soft, exhausted human underneath. But now, seeing her face printed, branded, and framed on every wall…

  Yeah, maybe the act wasn’t an act.

  She watched a pair of interns walk past, chatting under a poster that declared THE EXPLOITER DELIVERS. Neither of them seemed to find it weird.

  Luna frowned, tracing the rim of her “World’s Okayest Duelist” mug with one finger. “If this is the normal,” she murmured, “I’d hate to see the illegal stuff.”

  Lunaris was halfway through counting how many Charlies were staring at her from the posters (seven, possibly eight if the reflection counted) when a warm, accented voice purred right behind her: “Excusez-moi, is this seat taken, mademoiselle?”

  She turned… and blinked hard.

  The woman standing there looked like she’d just stepped off the cover of Corporate Enchantress Monthly. Her black blazer fit like a tailored secret, sleeves rolled to the elbows; the silk blouse beneath it shimmered with faint violet undertones every time she breathed.

  Her pencil skirt left just enough to imagination to cause minor workplace accidents, and the faint scent of spiced vanilla lingered around her like a signature. Her hair, dark with a single streak of auburn, was tied back loosely, and when she smiled, her lipstick curved into trouble.

  “I—uh—no,” Lunaris stammered. “The seat’s free. Totally free. Occupation zero.”

  “Merci.” Phèdre slipped into the chair across from her with the grace that probably required a minor degree in physics. Her accent rolled softly and French, the vowels warm, deliberate. “You are new here, non?”

  “Yeah,” Luna said, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Day one.”

  “Ah.” Phèdre’s eyes lit up, equal parts curiosity and amusement. “Bienvenue. I am Phèdre. Eh… marketing division?”

  “I’m Lunaris,” she said. “Um, systems analysis? Or knight? I don’t know actually? And chocolate cake appreciation society, apparently.”

  That earned her a laugh. “Très bien. Ambitious for a first day.” She leaned forward slightly, eyes glancing down at the mug in Luna’s hands. “World’s Okayest Duelist,” she read aloud, lips curving. “How modest.”

  “It’s—uh—it’s a joke,” Luna said quickly. “I used to fence, kinda. In Rimelion. And… never mind.”

  Phèdre’s smile softened, eyes flicking with interest. “That explains the sparkle.”

  “The what?”

  “Sparkle,” Phèdre repeated, tapping the air near Luna’s chest. “Right here. You have that look… like you still hear boss music when the printer jams.”

  Luna couldn’t help laughing. “That’s… not inaccurate.”

  “Bon.” Phèdre tilted her head, studying her a moment longer, then nodded toward the mug again. “But coffee from that? Non, non. You deserve something better. Something that wakes your soul, not just your neurons.”

  Luna blinked. “Like… tea?”

  Phèdre’s grin sharpened. “Like temptation in liquid form.”

  “That sounds… dangerous?”

  “Only if you say yes,” Phèdre said, already standing. She leaned down just slightly, voice dipping. “Do you say yes, ma belle duelist?”

  “I—uh—sure?”

  “Enchantée.”

  And with that, she glided toward the counter, heels whispering across the polished floor, leaving Lunaris alone with her heart doing speedruns.

  NightSwallow arrived thirty seconds later, balancing two plates of cake and an expression that said what did you do now?

  Luna just stared at her mug. “I think I just agreed to drink sin,” she whispered.

  NightSwallow sighed. “Ah. So you met Phèdre.” She then sat down across from her, placing a plate in front of Luna. “Phèdre’s not dangerous,” she said calmly, slicing her own portion of cake. “And Fty says she’s actually a competent healer.”

  Luna blinked. “Healer? Really? She looks like she heals people by ruining their lives first.”

  “Probably does,” NightSwallow said dryly.

  Luna picked up her fork, eyed the chocolate cake suspiciously, and took a small bite.

  The world stopped.

  Her eyes widened. The frosting was velvet, the sponge rich, the flavor blooming like a spell going off in slow motion. It wasn’t just good… it was amazing.

  “Oh, stars,” Luna mumbled through a mouthful. “This is… this is transcendence. This is—” she took another bite—“I’m ascending.”

  NightSwallow took a bite too, and even she couldn’t keep a poker face. Her expression flickered from neutral to slightly alarmed to quietly euphoric. “Okay,” she admitted, “that’s illegal.”

  They ate in silence for a moment, sharing that sacred expression reserved for discovering food worth worship.

  That was when Lucas showed up.

  “Hi girls,” he said cheerfully, dropping into the seat beside them without asking, all hacker swagger and sleep-deprived charm. “Have you seen Ian?”

  NightSwallow didn’t even look up, just gave a single slow nod; the universal emo gesture of no, but I could find him if I wanted to.

  Luna swallowed her bite and smiled. “Hi, Lucas! Um, Rob was talking with him last night, and he said he’d pick me up after lunch.”

  “Cool, cool,” Lucas nodded, drumming his fingers on the table. “By the way, have you seen any shady people around?” His grin turned conspiratorial.

  Luna blinked and glanced at NightSwallow, which rolled her eyes. “I’m not shady.”

  “But you like shadows,” Luna said with a giggle.

  NightSwallow grunted something in fereign language that probably translated to I tolerate you.

  Lucas leaned in, lowering his voice. “Yeah, well, Charlie’s, uh—under-the-table side—has something going down today. Can’t say what, but it’s spicy. I need to run before someone finds my access logs.”

  He stood clearly proud of himself. NightSwallow took another bite, unfazed. “She’s a villainess?”

  “Is this like the fortress?” Luna asked, tilting her head. “You also said she’s super evil, and everyone was like, scared of her.”

  Lucas froze mid-step. His face went from confident to crimson in a second. “I—uh—well, not scared, per se—just, you know, deeply respectful—”

  “Mm-hm,” NightSwallow said around her cake.

  Before he could dig himself deeper, a familiar voice, smooth as espresso and twice as dangerous, drifted over his shoulder.

  “Oh, Lucas,” Phèdre purred.

  He jumped as if someone had just installed new reflexes in him.

  She was behind him, a cup in each hand, eyes glinting with amusement. She set Luna’s drink down—some shimmering crimson espresso creation that looked like it was plotting something—and let one finger trail casually along Lucas’s shoulder as she passed.

  “Back so soon?” she teased. “I thought you’d be hiding in your little server room by now.”

  Lucas straightened his jacket as if it might shield him. “I—uh—was just leaving.”

  “Leaving me?” Phèdre tilted her head, voice feigning a pout. “Quelle tragédie.”

  Her hand lingered just a moment too long, tracing a lazy circle against the fabric of his sleeve before withdrawing. “And here I thought we were due for another diagnostic session.”

  Lucas’s ears went red. “That was—not—that was system maintenance! I just helped you with the system, Pearl has cams there!”

  “Mm, of course she was watching.” She smiled, predatory and kind at once. “You always look so tense when I’m running my… scripts.”

  NightSwallow leaned toward Luna. “He’s doomed.”

  Luna nodded solemnly. “Yeah. Critical failure on charm resistance.”

  Phèdre circled him slowly, like a cat inspecting her favorite toy. “You really should relax, mon hacker. Stress lines do terrible things to handsome faces.”

  “I—I’m fine!” Lucas stammered, nearly tripping over the chair leg. “I have to—uh—debug something.”

  Phèdre’s grin widened. “Then let me know if you need… hands-on assistance.”

  He escaped before she could add another line, nearly colliding with the door.

  Phèdre watched him go, then sat down gracefully, resting her chin in her hand again. “Adorable,” she murmured.

  NightSwallow shook her head. “You broke him again.”

  Phèdre gave a satisfied sigh. “He needed patching.”

  Luna giggled into her mug. “You’re scary.”

  “Non,” Phèdre said, smiling. “Just efficient.”

  The drink was red. Not bright red, like someone had liquefied ambition and added glitter for taste. Luna hesitated, then took a sip.

  Her entire nervous system applauded.

  “Oh stars,” she gasped, eyes wide. “What is this?”

  “Trade secret,” Phèdre said, smiling behind her cup. “A little coffee, a little stimulant from a monk, and a dash of something that makes you want to redecorate your life.”

  “It tastes like… confidence.”

  “Exactement.”

  By the time Luna finished it, and the last glorious bite of chocolate cake, she could practically hear her own pulse. Her fingers drummed on the table, her hands twitched, her brain felt like it was downloading new skill trees.

  NightSwallow was halfway through another forkful when she finally noticed. “You okay there, sparkle?”

  “Perfect!” Luna chirped, slightly too loud. “Totally fine! I can feel my atoms!”

  Phèdre chuckled, setting her cup down. “Ah, l’effet secondaire. You may wish to, how you say—walk it off.”

  NightSwallow arched a brow. “She doesn’t walk, Phèdre.”

  “Then race,” Phèdre said smoothly, leaning forward with a grin. “Race her back to your office.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she added, “Unless, of course, Lunaris can’t do it alone.”

  That did it.

  Luna’s spine straightened like she’d just been challenged to a duel. “I can do it alone!”

  “Luna—” NightSwallow started, but it was too late.

  Luna pushed off the table, wheels spinning with the clean hum of over-caffeinated destiny.

  “Bye!” she called, shooting past a row of tables.

  The cafeteria became a blur of startled employees and near-miss collisions. She weaved between chairs like a slalom racer, dodged a tray, apologized mid-turn (“Sorry! Very sorry! Excuse me, speed buff active!”), and zipped through the automatic doors with the momentum of a small, determined comet.

  By the time she hit the hallway, her laughter echoed off the glass walls. She flew down the corridor, cape of imaginary wind fluttering behind her, the world narrowing to lines of light and the glorious hum of motion.

  When the elevator doors opened again, she coasted out triumphantly, breathless and beaming. “Beat you!” she declared to no one in particular.

  Thirty seconds later, NightSwallow appeared, unhurried, cake fork still in hand.

  She stared at Luna, who was grinning like she’d just conquered gravity.

  “…Luna?”

  “Yes?”

  “No more caffeine.”

  Luna laughed, eyes bright. “Okay! Just maybe half.”

  “None.”

  “Quarter?”

  “Luna.”

  “…Fine.” She pouted, but the grin came back anyway. “But I won.”

  NightSwallow sighed, half-smiling as she brushed a crumb from her sleeve. “You always do, somehow.”