Fuck, I wish Lars had washed my clothes with theirs. It’s too cold to wear my puppy shirt, so I’m back in my hoodie, hoping that the deodorant I coated myself with will cover the stench of yesterday’s dry sweat.

I mean, if I can’t reason with Luther, maybe I can gas him instead?

I stuff my hands into the front pocket, sort of wishing I’d thought to bring my gun. Even if I never plan to shoot it, the weapon is enough to intimidate someone until I can get away. Or at least it is in movies.

I dispel a massive huff of air and remind myself that I’ve got this. I wasn’t worried at all about going to Lethal Poison before Lars and St. Clare got in my head. Maybe this is part of their plan? Make me trust them, twist my thoughts, cut me off from my friends and family … WWJJD?

Judge Judy sure as fuck would not stand for that bullshit.

It’s a trying time, and I need to lean on my friends more than ever. Even if those friends like to pretend we’re not friends, I know them better than that.

If we’re getting down to the bare bones of it all, I could argue that Luther owes me damages for my mental well-being of the last twenty-four hours. When I went to work yesterday morning, I wasn’t at all prepared to be shot at, on the run, and coming my brains out with a man on top of me.

It’s hard not to think of yesterday as a glitch in the matrix, but my lack of underwear right now is proof that it happened.

Today has to go well because I’m not so sure I want to die while I’m going commando. That’s the kind of thing that might become the punchline of a joke. Like when people die on the toilet. I’m much more sophisticated than that, even if the chafing on my inner thighs is trying to tell me differently.

I pause at the side of Lethal Poison and tug down the crotch of my jeans again. All this talk of planning has gotten into my head when what I really need to do is what I do best: wing it. My whole life is run off vibes, and I’ve done okay so far.

I scrub my ratty hair back from my face, pull up my hood, and duck my head as I push my way into the bar. Like always, I get that happy warmth of a home as soon as I step inside. Even on the morning side of noon, there are a few people here, catching up or trading stories on whoever they killed/robbed/kidnapped last night.

Surprisingly, all three of my baddies are here, so I throw them a wave before I head toward the bar.